Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
what is this familiar feeling?

sunlight shines through the sheets
my eyelids too thin to keep shielded,
or dreaming. fast like a Cadillac, ready
to attack the first cup of coffee, the "last"
spliff bowl, confused conversations, heavy
fingers typing carefully, backspace backspace
backspace backspace, erase slowly, think
harder less, heartlessly charmless, bad
luck, wouldn't have guessed this
past-track record would keep
repeating, over and over,
until all sound is lost
except for the tck
tck tck of each
letter, as I
create.
a never ending summer
left a foul taste in my mouth
a stench on my clothes
and far too many take backs,
ten-dollar scratchers, and lessons on
how to properly **** yourself.

maybe the word
                            no
could have dropped out of my mouth
instead of my lips closing down
left to drown in my broken shell.
I felt so pale, no gold inside, just a joke
just a plague.
there's no mistake
I'm gonna bake
this summer come
but won't be numb,
will no longer crumble at the sight
no longer hide away my eyes, maybe
find myself at night with a friend
I hold too tight. I stay up late,
can't help but write.

all my thoughts, they're here for the taking.
staircase downward falling
against walls, she crawls,
feels like something forgotten,
keeps on running, unburies thoughts,
she hides no more, she's here for the taking.
sometimes poetry's repeating all the beating
we try to hide, but it's also gathering the feelings
that we often take for granted,
mistake that our lovers are ourselves
that their shame and crime is intertwined
with the person you have come to find
when you look in the mirror
or the eyes of another,
when you speak to your mother
or to a friend whose lost some other
part of themselves they see in you
so they talk and act on through
try not to hurt or shame, it's a humble game
experience doesn't always have to be defeating
when we can't help ourselves from greeting
all the travelers from their homelands,
looking for deeper meaning.

words can be whatever you make them
it's an expression of thought, communication
is one of the most incredible attributes to being human.
a voice is a projection of your breathing mixed with feeling.
next time I'll try to say more of what matters
and less of what I don't care is best.
this life is a lesson, there's no way to fail,
it's not a test.
keep it real, folks
I cannot resist
when a movement
for a kiss
granted me a soft touch
from his sweet lips.
when I am an inch
from his finger tips
stretching out
and intertwined
together better
than hip to hip
(baby making *******).
my mind couldn't create
anything greater than this,
he's something to miss,
no gaze better than his.
the truest of true
the black in the blue
who could have knew
that this could be true
open wings, let us through
jumped with fear but we flew
think and believe because you can do
anything you want to

— The End —