12 Pm. .
She is at rest
The heat off her body is intoxicating
I run my hands up and down her side
Gripping her breast
Soaring under cover and prying open her legs
Sliding and kissing whats mine
Taking my time
Fastening my fingers in the warmness of her body
Knowing its divine somewhere a shrine
pouring myself inside her
She lurches at the first stroke
Moaning and Falling for more
My name gestures from her lips
Under her breathe so I give her what she wants
Pulling her aboard as I climb into her
Taking her gravity and replacing it with my energy
Stimulating to find the missing parts
Cherishing her more than a broken home
Casing the sheets with our sweat and tone
Exposing her as a diamond under the lenses
Ending her tune
Releasing my lust
Finishing her spite
Ending the night
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
I was seeking a reaction that never came
Often because you left me bleeding at the veins
Your only excuse left a stain
Resented you deeply but i was the one to blame
Somehow i always showered you in gold
You pointed me the fool as you stepped on my toes
I never said anything just followed your flow
I was only a guest in your playful show
A puppet to distraction as i mentored your madness
Closing my mind in disaster
I called up the plug I gave him my order
Pulled over told him it's for my disorder
An addiction to darkness
Creeping toxin slowly taking away my sickness
Puff and inhale let her bliss consume you
I roll up a new one better yet I made two
Double the antidote to cure the traffic escaping our hearts
To bad i never wrote what was at stake going this far
I chased your for miles overlooking the signs
Ignoring the newspaper to read between the lines.
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 2:35 AM UTC
Seems like the blindfolds
Get thinner and darker
The far away I fall from my star
The less sanity plays a part
Believing this is all so real
But writing from beginning to end is
becoming the death of myself
originality in an old painting
heat burning behind my lenses
my frames wonder what all this means
cure the heart and destroy the throne
its all going downhill
take me home
screaming
yelling
i dont want any
more
writing so fast my words
are all a blur
titled i wondered where you found this man
"in a pile of broken bones " vaguely she replied
I will haunt your heart day to day
till i find a way to forget that you stayed
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 2:20 AM UTC
The liquor invades my system
I try to comprehend love from lust
But all I fallback into is you
My soul mate but your soul less
Invading my mind like miners seeking gold
I'm not using you correctly
Because your in my veins
I'm losing control crashing home
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 2:14 AM UTC
It was heavy like a punch to the face
Like being drained of everything was enough
I found myself losing my strength
Drawing out my weakness
I'm not sure how something with such gravity
Cut me this deep
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 2:11 AM UTC
I was seeking your energy
But lacking our chemistry
You had made it clear
I had nothing to fear
twisting and turning along broken dreams
Wondering how i was to mend our scars
with my broken dreams and endless scars
I tried gluing the pieces in all Nashville's bars
Sin in a cup tha
Anger stumbling my approach
Anger builds up after a lifetime of silence
This is nothing new you just ignored the sirens
Tilted the boiling cup over but i was to trust you werent out to end me
Said my secrets were so safe
That they were locked in a safe
Given the time i wanted you to unlock me
But you left in a whisper so was I to blame for hiding away
I packed up your memories that was left in my mind
Acknowledging the fact you were never mine
But dont tell me you offered me shelter
When my coat is soaked with all your woes absent in a painful toll
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 2:06 AM UTC
How can you play victim with a handful of cards
The ones you dealt left me in awe
You burnt into my core that I was the one
Gazed into my heart and I sold you my soul
But now im the one drowning in the stone
Pouring from the wounds you left at your depature
But im the chosen one
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 7:30 PM UTC
There is little success in writing, none of any wealth, not without selling
your soul.
It seems that these days our book store shelves are slaves to **** literature,
and our computers are ruled by the pop-up one time self help blog Kings & Queens.
They all seemed to believe that their writing is filled from the truth buried within the heart and soul, and tireless nights slaving over the blank page, but few really torture their souls to bleed onto the page. Few watch as the bottles empty beside the array of snubbed out cigarette ends, all for the perfect tale, all for the best story. But it is never good enough, because to be tortured, you are never to be satisfied. There is no fame with writing, there is no success,
that only comes in death.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 8:16 AM UTC
Realizing I gave the world
Enough time to make a decision
Should I be shadowed by the outcome
That has yet be
Tyrants of wealth and power
Hold the keys
For nothing is as free as it claims
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 8:09 AM UTC
I'm afraid of the man
That comes knocking at my door half past dawn
With a whisper in his arm
Looking for my soul to take with him to the Chapel
For another raffle
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC