from my roots that shared the same womb
are we still aiming with passions still true
is toxic what our earth became
with mans aims, melting of heaven and shadow
for the same ground
of the American Dream
concrete, transforming
until existing and living is gone
and her sunset being and the snow leopard
can’t exist and live
pushed to extinction
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 4:46 AM UTC
staying for red wisps and blue gazes
it was a passing torch to a love unwanted
few words heard from milky trips
the rest undetected as the black hole takes it all hostage
she’ll focus on the mirage, so it laughs
and I fall behind with green knives and bullet so closest
no more I want to say
no more I feel I can say
reeking of bleach and fallen stars
dusting my tomb of a laden fantasy
I’ve made it to hell without even dying
I’ve made my life here without even trying
all this happened as I began falling
from her voice there’ll come a pastel dream
or so I think, or so it seems, it’s only from what I have seen
if there’s nothing in this world of burnt out trees
how easy would it be to create something
like a blank canvas for a dreamer
but who still shakes at caressing the ink
and at a single mistake
at a glimpse of reality
will burn it all again
all again
peradventure the worst if flames are the same
in both our heads
melting in the winter
it’ll comfort or hurt
step away or get closer
careful with my words
who knows what’ll wither or what’ll grow
fateful with my words
who knows what’ll wither or what’ll grow
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 3:41 PM UTC
...
bloodshot moon, from a suns constant view
seeps anger into ocean blue
red cracks upon a pupils white dome
a rivalry with the bonds at Birth
now severed and inflamed
good riddance I could say, but waking from delirium
with a touch of stuffed air
suffocating again, it was nothing but a fantasy
so it would say, with a condescending grin
how much will I take
before I become waste, and return to form
hair, skin, bones, shadows, grave, dust
nothing
don’t give it too much thought
it’s what it wants
tones within a shadowed contempt
speaks without lungs and burns the rest
so much for the seeds that were meant to bloom
for in their visions of lusting power looms
claiming rubied seas from the saps of hanging fruits
had oceans swell at midnight
torn the fabric between eyes as to close the blinds
yet the screams echo in clicks and gazes
become waste, never forget
waiting for the boom or never ending heat
it’s all they’ve been waiting to see
hear waste, see waste, stay waste, be waste
birth waste, **** waste, grow waste, shrink waste
hate waste, pray waste
it’s all waste in this taste
it’s all waste in this taste
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 7:03 AM UTC
sullen angels were never meant to stay
laying on wet bathroom floors
painted crimson from a toxic wine
for it to be my own I will claim
sorry for those I’ve pushed away
as my body and mind praised decay
I still pray at churches she had been
kneeling in concrete of disfigured ruins
only in the autumn
because it is nothing but hazel
the only times that I would return
and let my sorrows out then
when winter comes approaching
it’s the frostbitten tongue that can never pray
is glass shattered on the floor her diamonds sparkling like stars in visions of an overturned car
trying to forget everything that I sought
when it came to this one sided love
following a path where I dive into my fears
the last thing I’ll ever see
as the ocean takes my final breath
and an endless abyss awaits
or golden doors
or fiery flames
forgiving these scars that paint December trees
it was the only thing I could ever do
but looking in the mirror afters years
my face looks in disgust
the roots of insomnia digging into my eyes
wondering if I could ever become better
I’ve had sudden thoughts
of a shadow hanging on a Tuesday morning
and shadows kneeling to become one indistinguishable shape
from the opened blinds, invading me one last time
ive had notes that have become part of the void
as to hide so none should ever find, but hoping that someone would
it’s these thoughts that try to drag
me to deaths ropes that terrify me the most
as to provide comfort when I’m blinded by a made-up dark future
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC