TheOwlHoldsTheClockWhisper

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Abandoned houseI keep trying to piece together / a functioning poem but nothing / is fitting the way I need it to /
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This is not a poemThere is a demon inside my ear / Whispering lies / I don't want to hear / Trying to help you underst
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The moon is a lightbulb breakingthe moon is as longing / as I am to be the brightest / in an ocean of darkness / speckled with billi
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Sandi believe that people / are like those sand paintings / that take years to finish / every shape / an
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872
Quicksandmy mind is nothing but quick sand / a thought gripping me / pulling me down / until I am consumed /
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ExasperationI am not a fucking painting / that hangs in your room / Waiting to be admired by you
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699
Ambivalencemaybe in a parallel universe / it could be called love / to rip out each other's throats / and still
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Cigarette Hogyou asked me why I smoke / as frequent as I do / but what do you do / to satisfy / a longing / that
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CaliginousMy voice / sure was flawed / Too much of nothing / can lubricate just enough / of something to claim
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674
One more timewhen / our hair / came together / like a curtain / the shakes / overtook us / in withdrawal / from o
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636
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