Driving with my eyes closed
Life on autopilot
Miles and miles ahead
Put it in park or keep driving instead?
Darkness pours into my head
Night sky clouds in
When will it give?
Still miles and miles to go
Until the end of the road
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 1:12 PM UTC
Words swirling in mind
Smoke whirling in the air
Sitting alone I stare
Wishing I could disappear
Never able to find the time
Simply writing without a rhyme
Ill give you the world but only can afford a dime
Desperately trying to unwind
Words swirling in my mind
Without you, at best I'll be "fine"
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 11:21 PM UTC
Maybe we are all just heart broken kids, writing about heart breaking things, in hopes of being less heart broken.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
And I guess one could say this is the pinnacle of all that is us. My feelings could never be put to rest.When the acrimony of departure has come at last, I will stay here for all of my life. You will see the world and you will love many others. Deep in my clandestine mind, I won't love again when you leave me behind. I simply will not ; even if you say I must.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC
Now, if you've ever seen a Butterfly up close and from a distance, you will find the sights to be very different.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
stit
stit
stit
A typewriter punching a poem of what things could have been. Endings are all that matter.
flip
flip
flip
The story around real quick.
rip
rip
rip
The pages that contain things I will miss.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 9:56 PM UTC
Everyone makes love out to be a perplexing, complicated, and almost unobtainable
thing. Maybe it is. I sometimes find myself thinking this to be so. Yet I also find it to be so simple. You don't have to do much for me to know i love you. The warmth of your hand in mine is fact enough. I hope this feeling comes to you as simply as it does to me. No matter how many abstract poems are written about this love, this love I feel for you, I know it's simple. It comes as easy as breathing.
One thing, one day won't be this simple. The most complicated of days will be the day I suffer the sight of you leaving.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
Where yonder grasses twine,
A pleasant bed, my maid, that children call a grave,
In the cold moonshine.
Is that the wind? No, no;
Only two devils, that blow
Through the murderer's ribs to and fro,
In the ghosts' moonshine.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
A long time ago, in a land not far but near, there was a land where the night was always dark and the sky covered it like a black cloth, for the moon never rose there, and not a single star twinkled in the darkness.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 10:37 AM UTC
"Everyone, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night's sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape, hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever. The best thing to do in these circumstances is to wake somebody else up, so that they can feel this way, too."
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC