This feeling,
A million tonnes pinning down my chest,
A heavy heart sagging lower
and lower and for what?
You owe me Nothing yet my clairvoyance crafts unconscionable debts,
like a parasite, it eats me alive from inside to out.
Blue
car left parked and a lie l o o s e l y laid
but the knot was not as strong ro save me from such crushing weight.
Heavier and HEAVIER as lights start to spark,
with waves crashing harder and HARDER against the busting barrier,
I lose
and all hell breaks loose,
and I crawl back unto the dark...
Jan 25, 2021
Jan 25, 2021 at 11:04 PM UTC
Dearest daughter.
Seed planted at twelve,
spiralling, sprawling.
Fourteen's springtime; sprouting,
while toiled and soiled,
till twenty's plenty.
The precious peers arrive,
cans in one, fertiliser in the other.
You plead, you beg,
nothing but stilted silence
escapes.
Expansion you cannot take.
Not for this inner tree of black,
where nothing but anguish falls.
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 9:33 AM UTC
Wistfully Melancholic, Brown Overtones.
It's that ****** day again -
never stopping or skipping a second,
nor letting stillness be.
Is it future or is it past?
Never mind,
you'll never heed this
warning.
That painting on the wall,
a time long lost - desolate,
and left to longing,
with the romantic bliss that was,
and is nevermore
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 7:44 PM UTC
A fresh rising sun, grass glazed in dew
thhe sweet sweet sound of the robins tune,
Sounds of the storm begin to brew
humming along to thhe robins tune;
inside the palace,
-the guilt,
-the shame,
it grumbles and growls
but you're not the same.
Slaughtering deafening silence
in you,
continue to follow the robins tune.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
Crimson tears crash
from the eyes of the Gods,
faithfully flowing through
the cobble-stoned path,
I walk
in the direction of the fire.
The heavens burning,
bright
and providing light,
dimming down this dwindling road.
Screams,
shrieks of terror, shouts of faith
as the herd of sheep
fruitlessly phone.
Desperate for their burning bush
to reveal
Itself. Yet I Grin,
lips spread thin
cheek to cheek,
ear to ear,
such absurdity leads
to either laughter or fear.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC
The blasting intensity of the echoing bell,
formation finally falls into place
as the sheep align - a simplicity
fondly remembered now
The pen,
momentous and modern yet cold
and uncaring, a jail cell
for generations to come.
Guards persona's personable and kind,
like Christ they claim to know best,
Began with the fables of Biff, Chip and Kipper,
then break to fill your chest
This stop's swiftly stolen,
forced straight back to the program;
a servitude designed to force labour
till death.
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 7:30 PM UTC
Skin sizzling, sun;
bright blinding
blasting through blinds -
I am the dog chasing the ball;
bliss yet determined mind.
A perilous journey in this heat,
crossing this solitude street
portrayal of the world and its foes
and demonic villainous woes.
The buzz of death overheard
carriages slowly shuffle ahead
as the sweat scent overcomes your mind
your day begins with leaving on time.
Smoke lingers,
the precious angels lay as a rock
in the room next door.
Raucous laughter ,
daft banter and a moment
that makes you think:
"one more".
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 5:47 PM UTC
Blank stares and faultless frowns
bright white light
smashes through the night
as the blanket on
the ground turns murky brown.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 6:33 AM UTC
Trapped inside this box of your brain
Just one way out ; crystal's key
Crush purest, whitest rock.
won't feel so foul
though careful now!
you'll waste your go
theres only bout a gram you know
translucent Blue cases and razor blades,
an assortment of bank cards and notes far and wide,
torn up notebook scrap dyed red - a meaningful sign
from the brutal nosebleeds marking the straws
The purest indication
of our devout dedication;
my love,
complete devotion to such godless acts
Hear cheers of charlie
speaking salacious acts
Sniff some magic snow for silence
the hankering soon be back
One in the kitchen starting his war,
One in the spre room - dead on the floor,
Two in the bed lost to their head,
And myself on the hunt
for half ins for more
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 10:32 PM UTC
How I miss
the pot-holed path
that one that never ends.
The one that blocked us
as we walked, secured
by great green fence.
The tumultuous crash of the Clyde;
our halter
as people roar past us
in manic motors.
A wicked wait brimming with tribal tension;
an unheard prayer for divine intervention,
the distractions we made to stay like this,
the noise we made to refute our lips,
a fear of another chance to miss,
such horrors hold from cupids kiss.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC