Tired legs drag me through your green city.
A city greener now, with the rain.
Crushed as you are, you challenge me not.
Your scent reaches my nostrils; a beacon of health.
Forgive me for my harvest;
Tearing you asunder.
Thought for myself.
Thought for love.
Thought for the collective.
I wish to cure sickness;
unto death.
I remember you, but alas,
they will forget your fate.
Aug 24, 2019
Aug 24, 2019 at 7:07 AM UTC
Words expeditious, forward, plain.
Intently I contemplate words unheard by even you, the speaker. You, the playwright. You, your only concern.
My lips move, as if a part of your play.
My thoughts, seemingly adjacent to yours capture fleeting moments of your attention, elusive as it is.
You, so focused. You, so certain.
I feel loneliest here, with my thoughts, the unseen appendage;
Thoughts, as a phantom limb.
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 6:02 AM UTC
Conversation raw;
Just pocket the latex.
Disease reaches veins,
Longing to touch reigns untouchable.
Wretched as you feel to me, I can't escape you.
Reel me back, by sheer power of will.
Step into shoes like they fit;
My love,
They never will.
My thoughts, forever stilled still resonate.
My thoughts walking along side yours, as if a game of chess; stalemate.
What a wonder.
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 5:37 AM UTC
The buzz, a cacophony;
unwanted recipients press me like a cup of juice.
The swarm.
They swarm to simple sugars,
As if butterflies. A word could mean
the world in this chaos.
A word so desired, even I can't be sarcastic.
Our thoughts; effervescent, as if a cup of juice, forgotten;
More adjacent than I'm comfortable admitting.
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 5:20 AM UTC
Your fear speaks volumes. Voice-box cauldron, thoughts become vapor; boiling through gritted teeth.
Every face appears as a demon. You see through the veil of grief. Nobody ever told you life would be scary… full of haunt, regret… sorrowed memories; a fear of the future so cruel, so without compassion… riddled in marijuana keef.
Life, as if a dream. Waking life, cruelty bleeds through the tip of a pen; black ink.
Try as I might, I can’t recall you, life. Life, as a dream.
Woe is you, waking life. So true, so memorable.
I am not a victim. I can see through it. So temporal. So incredible. The life I live is a blessing making me constantly feel curious about what awaits me next; in my own masurbatory mind… consumed with regret in every text.
I regret you not, my thought. I regret not you, who created me. You, who cradled me always. You, who never told a lie. Thought, if only for a moment. Thought, my creator.
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 5:12 AM UTC