It's midnight
and I can't stop
thinking
about
it.
Toss left
turn right
flip the pillow
just one more
time.
It's One in the morning,
throw your leg across a pillow
and leave it hanging
for a slight breeze
cough once
and a small
sneeze.
And I still can't find
sleep.
It's now Two
and I can't help but try
to run simulations in my head
on how not to
die.
It's a game
it's all it is
I think I found it
a way to...
nevermind.
It's Fifteen past Three
I wake with a jolt
something about bugs
or something just as distressing
but once again
its my sleep that I'm
missing.
Four in the morning
I've but an hour left for any chance of decent rest
I toss here
and turn there
**** it all
it's already
Five.
Some how I find it
a bit of reprieve from my torture
but I wake to my alarm
it's Half past Six
time for work.
And I'm still
missing her.
What have I done...
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 9:02 AM UTC
Another love letter
with poem and verse
every single syllable
was surely not rehearsed!
So get on with it now,
the rolling of the eyes
the quirky little smirk
the exhausted scoff
or that fond small sigh.
She is beautiful.
Waking up next to her and smelling her body next to mine
knowing that I had her then
sends me to a frenzy again.
The way she let me hold her tight
even though I just make her sweat some more
and all the times she could read me like a book
the quality time that I couldn't ignore.
The playful jabs and jives
that made her giggle, laugh and smile
the powerful feeling
that would make me run the mile.
The way she made me feel
powerless to her affection
the way she lead me every which way
into any which direction.
The patch of gray hair
that she hides in plain sight
but when I brush back her hair
it brings me such delight.
My speckled grays
just salted about this old head
gives me the idea
that we could grow old together instead.
But here we are now
the farthest apart we've ever been.
All because I wasn't strong enough
to fight away temptation
to fight away our sin.
I gave in.
We were both broken people
in need of comfort and attention
but we both avoided the real problem
and we gave it too little a mention.
We both had trust issues
and we just made it worst
and now that our time has ended
my bubble has just burst.
I couldn't give to her
what I didn't rightfully own
it's hard to give your heart to someone
when all you have is stone.
I built up walls for her own protection
and this is the cost
when I tear them down on my own election.
Now I spend every waking moment
knowing what I've done was wrong
to walk back down this lonely path
to whisper this horrid song.
I still think of her often
and fondly as I do
this is my therapy
this is why I am telling you.
She was
my beautiful distraction
she couldn't complete me in anyway
but I would be a liar to not mention any attraction.
The nights I laid there
knowing it would end
and that I just couldn't stay
I just wish
I truly wish
It hadn't happened, and ended this way.
Now she's gone
just like everyone else I ever cared for in life
my beautiful distraction
I'm so sorry, I've failed you
and I continue to live in strife.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 5:43 PM UTC
I ******* up...again
I always ***** up.
I can never do anything the way i want to
I am so angry at myself.
I hate these thoughts
I want to love myself
But i can't help but hate myself
These demons are always haunting my mind
I try to have good thoughts; positive thoughts
But like the pessimist i am, i think about the bad
Like a trick candle
when i think i have snuffed the demons out,
When i am starting to love myself again
They come back whispering unwanted thoughts
And then i spiral
And i think about all the faces that pity me
I am being too hard on myself, I know
And yet despite this
I still feel the lonely ache
As i wonder why success is always in front of me
But out of reach
Like a forbidden fruit I can never have.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 3:34 PM UTC
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.
When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.
If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.
But most people don’t see it.
Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.
The poet lives in two different worlds.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
"Don't judge a book by it's cover..."
Well why ever not?
When today we search for appearance and appeal
the imagery must be
ideal.
I have a problem
with trusting people
it's as simple as it gets.
I tell them all a fanciful story
and I have them all in sets.
Every person
a mask
and a story sold to boot.
I find it better to leave an imprint in the sand
than let a seed take any sort of root.
Does it keep me safe?
Does it help me at all?
No and no and you'd be right
it will only be my downfall.
****** analyze it as you will
have at it
have your fill
but until you can crack my case
and spit it all back to my face
I'll introduce you to my shadow
the only thing about me you can chase.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 10:33 AM UTC
Physical pain is fleeting,
but shame is eternal
especially
for one such as me
who's struggles are kept
internal.
What whips and lashes
spikes and prods
could do to skin
could never hurt so much
as the whispers said
from within.
Reminders of our past
are the heaviest chains of all
the most bittersweet echo
the only one we answer to
when ever it may call.
Shame is the gateway
to a path of self destruction,
for no matter how many walls you try to build
they will do little to offer protection.
Live with it you must
but not forever, dear
we made our mistake
oh look who's come to join
it's our old friend
fear.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 10:19 AM UTC
The hardest part
of a Nomad's heart
is the intoxicating lust after
adventure.
Nothing that money could ever buy
nothing that no other love could ever satisfy
than for someone with a Nomad's heart to see the sky
and want for
more.
The Nomad travels light, only carries what they need
And everywhere they go
they plant a little seed.
A small dream that one day
they will plant their roots
and have something magnificent grow up in while they yet live
but to a Nomad's heart
a seed for where they've been
is all that they can
give.
So travel on Nomad
may your feet and heart never tire
may your days be long, and your nights be cool
and may you always chase that everlonging
desire.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 2:50 AM UTC
A fool of a tool is only good for one thing
and that's to be used.
Meant to be a helper to everyone
but everyone just helps themselves.
So useful for the moment
until the moment has gone away
when everyone has left
the tool, still, must stay.
He knows his worth
isn't in weights of gold
his only hope
is to still be useful
even when he's old.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 2:26 AM UTC
What the songs of Solomon meant
when he sang the songs he made for his lovers and wives
a touch so unique, a touch that changed lives.
What it feels to be loved
but still feel so empty inside
like giving your keys to someone else
and you're just there for the ride.
What it feels like to be needed
but if only for a moment longer
to have that moment of ectasy
but couldn't feel any
wronger.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 2:22 AM UTC
In perspective
forget yours or mine
forget the times where we were scared
but it all turned out fine
I could not imagine for a day
living with monsters.
Have you heard the news
the low whispers through out the night
of how a family of children were rescued
from parents that caused such fright?
I could barely contain my anger
my rage and frustration over it all
how can we still have the dignity
to still have the humanity to call them parents at all?
What happened to us?
What happened to being observant to the pain
where we stood up to monsters at night when the children cried
now we're more than willing to simply let them
die.
What happened to us?
There were signs, surely!
Why did no one say a thing
why did no one say ANYTHING?!
"But you weren't there
none of you understands"
You're right I wasn't
but an answer still, my question demands!
These children despite their age
have been forgotten
to the point of their adulthood
this boggles my mind
it could not be any less understood.
I work with children
I've helped raise a few
I was one myself
as I'm sure you were too.
How could no one suspect
that anything was ever wrong
how could we have let this
go one for so long.
I'm not sorry for my anger
my frustrations at all this
I'm just sorry
for the childhood those children
all these years
have missed.
Living with monsters.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 12:52 AM UTC