An empty chair
In the center of a dark room
Filled with tormented souls
Thinking of the damned
The empty chair
There to remind them
Of all their loss
All of their grief
An empty chair
That used to be occupied
In a bright room
Filled with lively souls
Thinking of futures
An empty chair that once held hope.
Dust flits gently on its arm; slowly & lazily.
As if not to cut, tear the patiently sewed seams.
Cotton against yellowing white thread.
The sanctuary for reminiscing about mesmerising scenes
The throne for Kings and Queens without crowns to be seen
I'm overwhelm by ecstasy as I bask in this endless elation of delectation.
TAH-dah!! First ever ever collaboration with a brilliant writer, Jamie King.
I am so eeek. happy, at how two different writing styles can meld together! :')
Thanks Jamie, again!
I am a bird chair
Bird chairs may have not caught on yet
but I promise you
they soon shall
I work well with a bird lamp
Wave at Window and Book Me
of bird chairs and lamps
Chapter Four is all bird flags
You know how hot suburban jungle gets
Stringing lights around moon
is not so difficult
When wind is at your back
much easier in a bird chair
And with a bird lamp
Shoe painting is mentioned
in the glossary
just in reference to
sadness your bird chair
might be experiencing
If you wish to re-floor carpet bag
bird chairs are perfect
Big things are happening in bird chairs
Look out for bird jet next
This is dedicated to the chair in the room.
No, not the elephant. He is too obvious. He is merely an inconvenience people ignore as they go about their lives. I mean the chair in the room, rather all the chairs in our lives.
Chairs are silent, to us they only seem to have the purpose to support and comfort us. this is to those who go about their lives asking for little and drawing no attention to themselves. Yet they are always there to give us a break. To help us get our work done, to help our tired legs and minds.
This is to those who are selfless in their relationships. For they give no expectation of returned favor.
This is to the chairs in our lives.
I sit upon an impossible throne,
The world's most comfortable chair.
It's all I'll ever wish to own
Though I forget it's even there.
My chair is ergonomical,
Conforming right to me.
Whatever I find desirable
It suits every want and need.
I feed it everything I have
But it never is enough,
Everyday my fingers bleed
Stuffing it with fluff.
I only see in front of me,
My chair it does not turn.
And as far as I can see
My chair is the whole world.
My chair is all I'll ever know
I seldom choose to leave it.
It scarcely ever lets me go
It's all I can believe in.
I don't know what I'd do without it,
Perhaps get up and get a life.
But instead I'll sit and stagnate,
Dying in my own delight.
I've left behind what was once in line,
Countless demeaning remarks,
All forgotten, except "I'm done trying."
Words won't leave you dying,
It's whats behind them that sting like poison darts.
Every morning on my way to see her, and everyone I knew,
I passed two chairs, translucent, that you could barely see through.
Looking back on it now, after all this time
I can compare the curiosity, compassion,
the peak, and downfall, line by line.
Those chairs endured the most beautiful of days,
to the days where I felt as if I were in a maze,
One day a chair ripped, from the foundation.
I threw away the second one along with it,
One chair was wrong for every situation.
Hours become minutes, when you embark
on each second with no intent on finding out
where you'll end up, without a doubt.
I wonder when I'll get lost,
because I'm starting to regret the price I had to pay,
by refusing to stay, would be the ultimate cost.