A man presses down the keys through the night, continuously as he always has
No plan of action, just a man who is sad about mishaps with a mind full of regrets, squandered moments, and plenty of wasted opportunities
Took a skill he possessed, instead of igniting it like the flame he swore he always had
It drifted off, floating along as a washed away piece of wood amongst the ocean
His fingers crash hard against the keyboard, with no music to be heard
Just heart felt words which rarely carry over to the reader
Just so happens that’s what he has been lacking
No one to read those dark words struck into the paper
He has accepted his fate, just a man and his typewriter
A dreamer, to compose deep, emotional, and moving work
Sunken in too deep for his own **** emotions
He sits still, yet restless, feeling helpless
Feeling unworthy, a daze strikes in the form of ever-so-swift hands
Pounding heavier than the storm within his head
Steam rolling off the letters as bliss was sure to follow
His fingers ferociously slammed the hammers against the paper roll
As hours went by without any ordeal, he had wrote from his heart with dire truth
Finally, a piece he could be proud of, but as the open window gave in to the breeze
A realization came through; this was still not the one and so he again accepted defeat
As he was just a sad man, with a dead beat skill, and a beat down typewriter
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 1:49 PM UTC
With the shattered glass upon the floor
I no longer can deny
No longer bottled up inside
Spilt out across the room
For all at the party to see
And laugh
As if it were caused by a stumble,
A drunken moment
But the reality of it all
Is my heart just struck a beat
As my heart and mind have been at war for sometime
I can no longer keep downing all this wine
Trying to act as if everything is just fine
I will no longer lie
I shall take this as a sign
I've been far too empty
That is all this drinking has shown me
And still yet I try
To find you resting inside
Underneath the sea of my misery
But you wont be, you wont be
No you have moved on, are living your own life
With your own parties which I imagine don't consist of you playing the fool
Your drinks remain amongst laughter not directed towards you
While my drink seeps into the living room carpet
Staining the moment
I'm not worth it and I'm not getting anywhere with this
I realized its all a lost cause
Getting you back won't consist of
Me losing myself in the night
It wont consist of me becoming your knight
No shimmering armor, no epic tale of conquer
No me and you left in the remaining pages of this tale
NO, NO, NO.
My wine is spilt and by wine I mean
My chances with the princess
My wine is spilt and by wine I mean
My chance with the princess
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC
Toes press into the sand
Wind causes bumps to form on the skin
A loose button-up flutters
Waves wash away the footsteps
An evening spent along the water
Just listening to all the sounds
Try not to let the mind grow loud
Thoughtless as the sun goes down
A rock pier lie ahead
One never seen and never been
Soon feet rest off the end
Attempts to jump right on in
A man found the morning after
On the cusp of his last breathes
Mutters that he never meant
To resent his own thoughts
No one knows who he is
No one claims to have been a witness
No one there to talk some sense
Not a **** soul had cared
This man was left to walk the plank
Solitary on a island full of people
Death row with no trace of hope
No wonder he wandered to his death
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 3:18 PM UTC
You are standing
on your head
but think you are
resting on the bottom
of the world.
Perspective my friend
you must understand
is key to insight
not a rabbit-hole
to perpetually fall into.
Flip your view
up-down and sideways
then find balance
on your own two feet again
quit standing on your head.
Unless you have been
buried alive cement will not
be atop of you
stand up tall
with the endless sky above.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 7:19 PM UTC
We all think we get it,
we don't.
We all think we can see it,
not noticing our own blindness.
You would think it is imperative,
it is.
Yet,
we all think life is only from our perspective.
How,
how do we all go on like this?
I,
refuse.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 7:33 PM UTC
I have not seen her. Nor have I felt.
Wondered to myself,
Has she drifted of into the morning mists
Or perhaps, wondering the bustling streets of New York
She could be off away at sea, pondering upon the stars
Or climbing mountains of northern Italy,
A continuing goal to discover herself amongst this world
I followed from a distance too far, now I have lost her
But I cannot come to believe, she is wanting to be found
So now, shall I still try
Or shall I let her merely exist in my mind
A perpetual daydream, sifting through my head
I want to follow her, want to see the world from her view,
But her poetry has been running short, she no longer pursues to write
Her whispers have tickled my ear, like the wind,
Telling me she rather see the beauty of the world than feel its sorrows
Now I can no longer sense either, no not without her
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 12:51 PM UTC
A void. With no visible end.
No edge. Boundaries not tangible.
Just as you were. A professional at leaving holes.
A crater of a footstep. No positive impressions.
Lessons. Yes.
Stories to unfold. Many untold.
For the scars they would behold.
The tears. No control.
This is why I to this day try.
To bury what was. To leave it behind.
Let it be a shadow. No disguise.
I will not let it catch me by surprise.
I wait. For the call one night.
For the hole to sink further.
I will miss you my brother.
No amends. Just emptiness.
No forgiveness. No open space left.
No wrongs to right. Nor a new page to start.
No end in sight. Perpetual pain.
Whole lot of open space. Endless.
But a pressure neither of us can fix.
Heavy weight. Blame fate.
Blame our past. All but ourselves.
No chance. Too late.
No light. We will not open our eyes.
Refuse. Too much dirt to fill back in.
Too much time. What an excuse.
I wait for the call.
You pretend it was all, nothing.
We bore swords in our words.
Bullets in our actions.
One day we shall rest on mattresses closed.
In a place we cannot escape.
Forced to repent. Accept our mistakes.
Our souls to take. A will. No fight.
Brothers by blood. Enemies by treason.
With no secure reason.
A lesion. A missing piece.
A unfillable space.
Brotherless. Still.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
I have desired to own my own typewriter for so long
Thought I would never amount to be a true writer; without one
Told myself again and again;
I need to have an antique indication that I am one
I need an vessel other than a dusty ole notebook and pen
If I did not invest in the proper tool I believed;
I would never become a true writer
My fingers needed to feel the pressure of each letter being wrote
Almost as if the **** machine would write off symphonies for me
As if there would be magic within the ink specific only to a typewriter
I have never been so wrong;
I won't ever be a true writer; regardless of what tool I use
So **** it; here I am punching away at my keyboard
Regardless
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 2:26 PM UTC
I remember the day you asked if we had always been this way.
If the love, or at least what we thought love to be, has ever been.
I looked into your eyes and I really considered telling you the truth.
Wouldn't that be a first?
I looked into wanting eyes and I could feel your skin trembling.
I told you that we had always tried to make each other feel numb, a little bit dead inside, just enough to keep us going.
I told you we were both so terrified of feeling more, that we are still so desperate for touch, that we never would have been able to touch each other properly.
I told you that a part of me abhorred you and that a part of you had always felt the same for me.
But the truth is my sweet, I love you in every version of you and me. In every way we thought and still think love to be.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 11:38 PM UTC
I hope you are there. I hope you are reading this.
I hope you see my words. For it is you I miss.
The nights have been cold. The days been long.
The bed has been lonely. And god have I been too.
I know you feel this way. I know you are missing me.
Not to be conceded. Let's say. This has been a shared feeling.
Not quite disappointment. Not quite regret.
Like a missing piece. Of an unexpected puzzle not yet built.
Almost thou. Nearing to. Completed no. Not quite yet.
You have what I need. I offer you the same.
It has not been easy. I can admit that babe.
But here we go. Final stretch. Of this god **** heart-wrench of a race.
Distance. Endurance. A test?
Regardless. We are almost finished. But not quite yet.
All for what? Shall there be a prize?
All I want. Are your eyes.
Your touch. That lust. We share.
A moment still. You in my arms.
A drug. No overdose. Smoke. No choke.
Be my ecstasy. Get me to see my dreams. Come alive.
I will be your nicotine. Give that body a buzz. Bliss. No disguise.
I ask the heavens please. Give her strength.
To give herself to me. The moment that we meet. Again.
I know. We are close. But not quite yet.
Shhhh. Loneliness may be felt. But no, it is not permanent.
Let us find that missing piece. Let us complete this puzzle.
Let us dance. Reconnect. Make love. Sweat.
Let us show them a real race. See who finishes first.
We won't need a night. We won't need much.
I am ready to go. I guarantee you are too. But not quite yet.
I need you. So god I hope you see this.
I know we spoke. Said we miss.
We miss where we were. Together. All night. All day.
Miss our hands meeting skin. Miss the way we fit.
Like a perfect puzzle set. With you on top.
Oh don't you stop. Got my dreams coming true.
God babe. I can feel you. So close. So soon. But not quite yet.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 11:22 PM UTC