filled up with enmity coiling up inside
The chest billows up
Thy want to heave it out
Then destined to tranquility
The claws scratch the flesh
Death gnaws on the remnants of longevity
Unless visions have a chest
To burst out into effervescence
Spontaneous sigh is kicked out of your breath
The clavicles sharpen, the eyes ogle ahead
The nothingness dilates
The flicker has no entrance for itself to adumbrate
For utopia has its own gore
To marvel over inside,
The plasters of bliss
Have guffawed over the gullible dusk
The gloom has left with a whisper
A muttering not to be heard
The relief has sewed on flesh
With the clouds coming out of thy outburst
The relief rebirths the serenity
Has been meandered, halted
For thou shed leaves
Making agony to clouds of no return
the idiosyncratic anectodes
Stains of externalized innundation
For the literal existance of hope.
Taking a trip down memory lane
of the tragic time in which
a single carnation
rested upon your grave stone.
You used to call them bleeding snowflakes,
when your mouth still breathed in their sugar-sweet air,
when laughter tumbled out of your lips
as often as teardrops leaked from my eyes.
On the edge of those abandoned train tracks
where you roared out your anger and I screamed my desires
you begged to me that if you left this world before I did
that I should set a single bleeding snowflake on your gravestone.
I rolled my eyes and told you to shut up
so we continued our shouts until our throats were raw with emotion.
I thought you were okay again.
Yet not even a week later
Back to the tracks you went without me.
leaving everything of yours out bare
for the whole world to marvel at.
Wow, look at that kid!
What an idiot, so selfish!
Wonder what type of parents he had...
Your blown open heart as the main attraction in your zoo of suicide.
Now I know we weren't close emotionally
While in bodies we had each other memorized
We were just two kids messing up at life
But I still sort of miss you sometimes
Hence why today
I took a long trip down memory lane.
I've spent years of barely living. I've spent summers full of fear. When I had the chance to tell you that I loved you I knew I should have brought you here, to this over pass I used to sing at though I hadn't been in years, but instead I let you leave with out a goodbye. I watched you disappear.
I used to watch you in the moonlight out of the corner of my eye. I would listen to you breathing as you looked up at the sky. And I know you were counting stars and trying to figure why I could be so painfully reserved as the silence passed us by.
I started having dreams about having finally got it right. I gave you all the letters I wrote you every single night. I told you the things that really matter and I said it all outright. But instead I'd say it with a stammer and follow with a sigh.
You would say I never listen but I don't think you think that's true. The timbre of your voice is soothing; I could spend each night listening to you. I had to give up on the things I wanted and what I wanted most desperately was the chance to follow through with the scenarios in my dreams, but I fear there's nothing left that I can do.
McDonald's not the place
That miserable place,
The place I work at,
Don't get me wrong,
It puts bread on the table,
This drama that people throw at you,
It's really just poppycock,
The job is too easy,
Just press a button,
like the easy button
Wish I had a mute button
So I can silence the clicking of these buttons..
-Paul R Hensley |||
On the nights when I couldn’t speak
I screamed the loudest
For my silence is never passive
I felt as if I were to implode
The inside out
Into intense particles
Scattered via combustion
For my words were in my touch
They haunted my stares
And you tasted them as they seeped into my tongue
You looked at me with your nothing filled eyes
And I knew I had said something
Even if I only sighed
The only view I have ever truly loved is disappearing in front of my eyes.
It steals away my friends.
And it forces me to see the things that are my fault.
I find myself crying on the darkest of nights about how it's precious leaves have ceased to make me happy.
It's not the same as 3 years ago, and it's taken away every person I longed to have known.
I cry on it's broken benches at 20 past 11, when stars are raining down on trees and my mum isn't here to take me inside.
But I am stupid to think I was ever needed.
I pathetically wish I was 6 again, when I didn't stream tears over the absence of stems.
I remembered being happy before,
when my thoughts were just the roses hanging from your door.