Inside I rattle like there's lose change in my rib cage
And as a tin man I wonder round waiting to rust.
So she stole some shiny parts
and pried me piece from piece.
She placed my head on her shelf
with a mirror to my side so I'd look at myself
and sang me sweet little lies
'til I opened my eyes.
With each night she spoke to me
she'd tease me with a lit cigarette
so I'd beg her to breath
Smokey life back into me.
Now armed with everything
from hands til torso
I feared the day she'd let me go...
But she'd build me up no more.
On our last day she left
with my feet on the floor
at the end of wide open door
and a note in the hall so I would find her.
A shelf now seemed a cliff
but I fell for her
Scrapping along I picked myself up
And pulled myself together.
With a wobbly walk
I reached her note
"I'm so proud of you..." She wrote
"But now I'm the one who needs building".
On a pile I found my former self
pried it open and saw some change
and used it to buy the paint
that still shields me from the rain.
Wondering round again
a life time later
I'd see a familiar silhouette
I wasn't able to forget.
And brought her head inside...
Jul 3, 2023
Jul 3, 2023 at 6:41 PM UTC
Another age-old tale
of love too frail
to save two lives torn
by love's self-destructive scorn.
If love were
a worn leather chest plate
doubt would be a
piercing sword
to seal a lover's fate.
Trust, a slippery step
on a steep climb
that if her feet would falter
she would never again be mine.
Has this calloused heart
become too cruel?
but what of
once deceived
and twice a fool.
So I have learned
that Love is not blind.
For the faint flame
of love in one's eye
slowly starts to die
Never again can i stare lovingly
For all I have is uncertainty
She starts to tear when I am near
For my stare forever holds
The weight of
"what if?"
Dec 28, 2020
Dec 28, 2020 at 1:49 AM UTC
Chaos free for barely a day
when a wide eyed sadistic smile
finally came out to play.
Her touch lingers
just a little too long
I'm another sorry soul
caught by her siren song.
She holds me in her hands
with her soft skin
and sweet smell
that makes me weak.
So I played her game
but she don't play fair
so she left me alone
cold and without a care.
She's been a wild child
since sixteen;
now she lives for fast cars
and *** under the stars.
Broke so many hearts
because somebody
broke hers first.
That's why
Hearts that break others,
Really are the worst.
She's not for me
or anyone else
since she won't settle down
She can live alone
in her red painted town.
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 6:02 PM UTC
To be cold is to be alive;
to be alive is to hunt for heat.
Our fire may be a fickle friend,
but here it is warm,
so here I am for now;
screaming at silent starts,
as I start to thaw.
Writhing within my eyes
is a flame's reflection.
Now fierce is my stare,
as I gaze down the abyss
of what is yet to be.
So, for now
I do not fear the cold;
it's chill excites my eager bones,
As I savour a new fires embrace.
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 1:02 AM UTC
How do broad shoulders
bare the weight of what
we carry to the grave,
and how do we gauge
the weight of
what never was?
They say we simply
need to share
to speak,
but I know not one man
that can shine a torch
on his own demon,
let alone name It.
So They start to circle
as bones no longer
Creak but Crack
and broad shoulders start
learn the pain of growing older
and like demons
make for
fine friends.
If
the eyes are the window
through which we can look
into the soul,
Then let words serve
as a souls outstretched arms
and when we look in let us see
that in yours are a shield,
and mine a sword,
Then let you block and bash
as I swing and slash
that not one more man may fall
and broad shoulders need bare
nothing at all.
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 5:48 PM UTC
Let's seeds of sadness fall
for only what I water
will grow.
Let tired flowers wilt
before cold winds
blow petals of old away.
May the ground
take its beauty back
and wait for warmer days
when I will water
smiling seeds under summer skies.
And only after Their spring
would I be content
leaving dry lands,
And on that day
let me give back
what wilted petals paid
to me.
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 1:00 PM UTC
Isn't it ironic that
Silence screams so loud
we drown out the sound
and pray the voices pipe down
" they don't sound like me anymore
they won't go away and each day
a demented voice pulls me under
and now I wonder...
which way is up?"
Isn't it ironic how
playing cards can cut
like a razor blade
and red dice rolling
become an evil eye that winks.
Does that cloth
on a tricky table
feel as soft
as the lining on a nearby coffin?
Isn't it ironic
when love's soft touch
devolves into lust
and broken hearts
disintegrate into rust,
when a silent embrace
becomes an empty bed
but that void only deepens
when we cheapen
our body and soul
to feel whole
for a mere moment.
Isn't it ironic
we want a world
so far from reality
we blur the one we have
as we snort, smoke and swallow
our problems away
only for them to return
on a much darker day.
A hundred vices
**** a thousand men
and in solidarity we stand.
Let one brave soul say
I have been bitten by these...
and more
so many more!
Let me lean on you brother
Let me comfort you sister
Let us stumble forward together!
Jul 12, 2020
Jul 12, 2020 at 1:41 PM UTC
Music Makes Madness
So Much More bearable
Like strangers make lies
So much more wearble
My masks the sober student
Yours is the faithful girlfriend
Right :°[] ?
Stereotypical, I know!
Let's put on a show!
I can be the ****** killer
You can be my arms dealer
I chop and you sell
Later Gator see you in hell
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 5:30 PM UTC
Starring through the glass
waist deep in quick sand
and turned topsy turby
Forced to swim through the chaos
as my sanity sifts out under me
with one last breath I dive
Sounds and Sights
that once assaulted my senses
Shift to terrifying silence
And thousands of tiny cuts
in this sea of shrapnel
leave me in a new agony
Down I go Deeper still
Burning lungs Begin to plea
That I Simply Swallow
Teary eyed
Goodbye
I start to say
When...
Suddenly I fall through
the floor
and plummet down
Sand now ankle high
the air crystal clear
with a brand new view once more
Here I will live
in momentary relief
waiting to turn upside down...
Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 6:39 PM UTC
Every late night filled with bliss
is etched in red
like lipstick from a stolen kiss
on the white of this bed.
Every single grey smudge shows
a world of lows written in pencil
but still I see those highs
clearly in my murky memory.
Every scar slowly branded into
burnt skin that eventually healed
are tally marks for the demons I slew
and hint at battles that will not yield.
Every
Memory made
World written
Battle beaten
Stained, Smudged and Scarred
A blank and Boring canvas
May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 5:20 PM UTC