Writer, Student, Musician, Artist, Actor, Dancer... Just me. An old souled child with a love of words...
I hope mine, will inspire you to find your own and share them with us all. Thank you.
Can you taste them?
Those slow melting morsels of sugar,
just lingering on the corners of your mouth...
You let them drip from your spoon,
let them roll off your tongue
and dress your intentions.
As they try and undress me...
the presentation, the flavor, the texture...
Like Bartlett pears:
"Granules of sugary sand, made to melt and fill every taste bud."
The warmth of your phrasing,
reassuring with their momentary high
and their lingering desire for more...
Heavy with mood,
rich with aphrodisiacs'
and smooth like that cocky-ass grin...
These words are like ants,
attracted to the smell of decadence...
Sweet rotting decadence...
Watch them decay,
as the truth beneath...
Reveals the lack of sustenance.
Live on these words?
On these hollow, sugar-coated statements,
and be satisfied?
I need more than that.
You left me nauseous,
and filled with this stain...
Keep rolling those lines,
make them smooth and inviting,
make them enticing,
make them all yours....
will I indulge you.
I need a tall drink of water,
the wind wiping through my hair,
and this pavement,
To guide my sullied feet,
as I "beat on against the current..."
of my self-indulgent past.
Is it possible to be so unhappy, you don't even realize it?
Like a fish in water...
When the dreams you once held are mere frivolous specks,
on a wave of logic and realism.
It becomes all you know.
All you are.
You're just an island.
I will drown in this.
I know why I don't write anymore,
everything I write is dull and out of pain.
Nothing new, nothing amazing, nothing even worth while.
I apologize if you're reading this new piece of shit;
wasting your time if you want to be inspired here.
I used to have a strength,
that picked me up every time I fell,
but I don't have the will to even try anymore.
It's never worth it anyways.
Maybe it will be easier now.
Easier and Numb.
Why should I bother, when it never amounts to what I aim for?
I've lost the want,
to be better than I am.
Now I'm just rambling;
just looking for a reason to actually hit delete on my account,
and I truly have plenty.
It's sad frankly,
in my writing this,
I'm asking someone to give me a reason to belong,
which is pathetic to me.
I'm not a beggar,
but no longer a fighter.
What does that leave me with?
is the hardest to except.
that I can fall if I want to,
and I don't expect anyone to help me up.
I'll watch you walk away from me,
I won't judge you for it;
I expect it.
With that one look as you pass,
I see the truth in your eyes.
So go ahead and say it.
Go on, tell me this is shit.
Tell me I can't do it.
Tell me I'm pathetic.
Tell me I just want attention.
Tell me I'm wasting my time.
Tell me everything you want,
because I already know.
I already agree with you.
I finally agree with you.
Congratulations my dear.
My fingertips are numb.
The fear of my words swallowing me.
Just as Eve devours the apple...
Is nothing but a feeling in the form of words.
Just a way to make you understand.
Make you see...
But you were not the one who lost.
Light swims within these shadows,
reminding me of my uncertainty.
I lay here, drowning in my thoughts...
I did not understand.
That a game,
could be so dangerous.
The war rages on around you, around everyone.
Yet, none of you see it.
Why would you?
Your eyes do not know me, though they wish on...
You know my face.
You know my words.
You know my game.
But, what else do you know?
You do not know about Autumns leaves,
piling up around me.
You do not know about Winters grasp,
holding me to the ground.
You do not know about Springs puddles,
how I drowned in them... Begging for air...
You do not know about Summers fear,
how it held me in my tracks....
Daring me to touch its face.
I wanted to know what it was like...
To be wanted for more,
than what I have learned I am worth.
The water, will never wash that from me.
This you cannot realise.
I do not blame you.
I have lost it all.
The trembling lips of a broken woman.
You could have had it all.
My heart of ash...
Now watch it crumble in your hands,
and float through these numb fingertips...
I'm losing it.
Anger, Ease, Relief, Gulit, Pain, Numbness;
It's just a cycle.
It's just me.
It always has been.
She's just a stereotype.
Daddy didn't love her,
or Mommy apparently...
Lost, without showing it.
Great actress, especially with those closest to her.
Yet, she found a way out...
And she almost took it to far.
Couple years later:
Naive to men,
they took advantage of her innocence,
her childhood complex to trust.
Made her believe herself again;
how people truly were beautiful underneath.
and again. and again. and again.
. . .
She sees her reflection,
and tries to see beyond it once more.
To see that woman that once trusted,
once believed in blind faith,
was once clumsy with uncertainty,
instead of clumsy from drink...
She is just confused;
of breaking down.
from hurting him.
for letting this continue.
Exhausted from her own punishment.
Why did I write this, you ask?
I don't know;
maybe I wanted to organize my thoughts.
Maybe I wanted someone to actually listen.
Maybe I just wanted help.
I don't know.
Thank you though,
to the deranged odes,
of a sad, and silly soul.
. . .
Waking to the warmth of the sun,
streaming in through my curtains;
I lay here,
without a thought,
without a qulam,
without a regret.
Just naked, with that light warming me.
All I notice are my discarded clothes
and how they represent my life anymore.
Hectic, trivial, asque...
. . .
Nothing wakes me,
yet I can't remember sleep.
It seems I'm stuck;
trapped in limbo,
between who I once was,
and what I've become.
Which isn't much...
. . .
So I'll linger;
across these keys,
over his skin,
with these ghosts...
That have never heard of rest.
They're just here,
keeping me company,
with my numb emotion,
and my Whiskey...
At least it always keeps me warm.
The sink clogged, with the hair I'm pulling out.
The deranged dripping of the pipes on the veneer...
To see what people will do to feel like they have some sense of control...
The window sill,
covered in dust, paint chips, mold,
The carcasses of dead flies...
There is an exquisite beauty to lonliness.
It's something relatable.
A way of being that is attainable, but unwanted.
It's just like this day,
unwanted by all.
Some may though; want it.
Perhaps they are simply afflicted,
In need of a shoulder for their worries
and a day to hold them.
I don't think they would rip their hair out to do so.
Not like me.
I'll just watch now,
as the blood drips down the sink,
on the day they all needed,
when the pipes burst and dripped the mudded water
onto the the fresh veneer...
Unforgiving secrets; truth within lies?
A strangers words haunt this daydream.
A flood of unease; the forgotten storm.
Accusations: creatures of snow.
What should I think?
When the truth is such a fickle thing...
Though these nightmares hold me under,
Your light is waking me up…
And I can’t hide underneath the covers anymore.
Hypnotic: To lay here in your arms…
There is a stillness here.
A kind of concrete understanding; a comfort.
To see you, seeing me…
The light dances above my head,
Flecks of gold mixed with flowers;
Can you taste the nectar?
The chill of a fall wind passes by
and clears my mind of the summer.
This is for you.
And one day, you'll understand.
Just your smile and me; a mirage of comfort.
Optimism only takes me so far but,
When I’m alone in this room; a bottle, jazz and these heavy memories…
These days are flat and monotonous; my personal never-ending winter.
I will never want you back but your smile once held me.
In the end, that truth is what lingers.
There is stiffness in my chest as these words write themselves;
As my breathe creates the all too familiar fog on the glass of my windowpane.
These words come from a new place; they pour from me like honey.
Smoothed, pure, untouched; uncomplicated, unrehearsed, untainted.
The sensation; like a hollowness; not being filled but, being felt with acceptance.
My fingertips sway across these keys, in time to the beating of this broken heart.
This soul carries on to the predictible;
The changes in the weather,
The five cups of coffee,
The mind-numbing analysis,
The everyday mundane actions.
Sleeping at dawn,
living at dusk and tea and cakes when I’m feeling blue.
It’s just a routine.
A facade of monotny to keep my heart at bay.
My mind numb to the sting of remembrance...
So, what now?
I guess I’ll just drink another cup and wish that I knew how this will all pan out.
I guess we will see... Won't we?
Lost and bewildered, I sat on her knee; “Come here child, let me preach.”
“Breathe into your life and unto God, you will pray.”
Wide-eyed and despondent, I held the death letter; I made the circle, drew the stain.
“Queen Laveau, take from me this sadness, shelter from me this pain.”
A grin danced on her lips with the stain intact; white on black.
“Saint Expedite, unsanctify this child, show him our ways.”
The last words uttered to me, by The Mother Marie.
This corpse wanders the earth, now alone; with an aching in its bones.
One day I suppose she will come for me, and with that final breathe, I will say,
“Voodoo woman, Come sing to me your lullaby so that I may pray.”
Showing nothing but strength as I walk through this desert alone.
The sand will sting and the wind will blow; my eyes will water and my skin will burn.
Alas, I will continue forward, for life is still worth moving for.
For you were not my life; that you cannot take from me.
So, don’t you cry for me; not that you will; not that you could.
Just live, as I know you will;
Don’t remember, as I know you won’t.
This isn’t for you either; this is just for me.
I just needed to walk on and watch the sand turn to glass beneath my feet.
Watch it crack and shatter; and place it in a mosaic on my mantel.
For you are now nothing,
But a beautiful memory in this desert of broken dreams.
Fire under my skin: Clarity.
Solace forms in response.
Knowledge is something I never saught,
So keep my bones for yourself.
Now I am warm; filled with air.
White Balloons tied to the wrist of a child.
Let them float away now,
For the moon tonight is calling your name
And only the innocent can answer.
There is an a c h i n g in my bones.
A raw power.
A thirst for desire… A n e e d.
This night in all its innocence…
is nothing but a distraction to me.
A way to elude the demons.
To resist the temptation.
To fight my urge.
Let me forget myself. Lose myself.
It is terrifying to think…
Yet, I will.
Damn your demons.
Haunt your ghosts.
Burn your ashes.
Wipe away the tears.
Break down the walls.
Let everything go.
Fall off the edge.
Lose your mind;
And discover how good life can feel.
Find your life like a bird does.
Discover the light you seek.
Reach out for it and breathe,
Breathe into your fear and leap
and pray to God you can fly.
Feel the rhythm and wake the dawn.
Show us that you care.
Needles fall to the sound of silence,
To your bed of questioning air.
Your wake unreached.
Drown me in desire,
But resist temptation.
Feel the drummers beat and
Motion to the sound.
Unfold me into light.
Blur my weaving qualms.
Rest your worried head,
And let me know you.
A taste of hope...
Answer my soul.
Witheld motives and
Penetrate my heart and
The rhythm moves us,
And you will know desire.
The answer to your hunger.
And I shall bend,
Within your demons
And your saddened eyes…
Then blur this illusion.
End of sight.