If he’d a-just floored it,
drove-a straight line
right through the end-of-the-World
that would’ve been fine
with me.
A fine way to die
with sex-sticky thighs
and an orgasm-glow warmin’ my skin.
He drove on- steady and slow.
He drove on and I,
and I, and I played- steady and slow.
Act your age.
So I did- I did, I
paint-ed his lips with the salt-sweet of our deed
and I whispered.
I whispered You’ll go again.
Kerbed a wheel, swore, but
I felt him grow hard and
I felt him frown through the dark-
Girl, I’m takin’ you home.
I felt him frown through the dark-
Girl, I’m takin’ you home.
Saw home in the distance and
I didn’t wan-t-go.
Saw home in the distance and
I didn’t wan-t-go.
I felt him frown through the dark-
Girl, I’m takin’ you home.
If he’d a-just floored it-
drove-a straight line
right through the end-of-the-World
that would’ve been fine
with me.
A fine way to die-
I wanted to die.
Wanted to die-
and wanted to never go home.
Feb 15
Feb 15, 2026 at 2:47 PM UTC
We were attached
by the same red string.
Except ours is wrapped around
our necks and each
time it gets harder and harder
to breathe; love wants
us together, but yet fate says
we simply cannot be.
Sandoval
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 6:29 PM UTC
The sun is beautiful
If you hear the
The whisper of the wind
With it.
Such are memories
That remind me
Of the heartache.
An old clock
Brings me no peace
As it clicks like the years
As they pass by.
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 8:54 PM UTC
Death is ill timed, never expected
and awkward for those left behind.
Funerals are Death's surreal plays.
Tears won't always come on cue.
It's bad luck to talk about death.
We speak kind of the dead. We don't
talk of their human frailties.
We deny our own sins and theirs.
We forgive the world for our sins.
If we never lived in your creation
with temptations forbidden we'd
never suffer birth and death.
Jun 27, 2020
Jun 27, 2020 at 12:43 PM UTC
Oh you fickle being, you.
Always one to never shy away
From opportunities of affection
To spread your wings and take flight.
But sadly,
You soared too high every time
Always too close to the sun
And spiralling down you go
Into the bottomless pit below.
Jun 25, 2020
Jun 25, 2020 at 1:10 PM UTC
I know of a neighbor next door,
She’s stuck up in the winters,
With a cabin in her igloo,
That crunches cracks, that,
When she peepn’ through,
The world stops to look,
Her silence falls like the bullets,
I checked her timeline,
And her closet's in pink,
Like her hair, like her skin,
she loves what she's got, but,
in fear of what the world will see,
When I near to say hello,
She clenches on her fist,
galloping her soronity, like the,
secret word engraved in her palm,
when my kids ‘re in her lawn, she,
smiles, then shutters in precision, so,
harsh, that the igloo thaws to his freeing,
a man, whose not set eyes on his born little,
he only but presumes a beauty, one so quiet,
like the crutches he's clutching, on his left,
on his right, interlocked palms,
Further end, the palm that unfolds,
'atrapado en el amor'
The cabin door bolts.
Jun 25, 2020
Jun 25, 2020 at 11:29 AM UTC
Look up there, really look!
The line of your sight and the path that it took.
Try to understand the truth of life’s vocation.
While you grasp the depths of its bitter isolation.
There is nothing up there, nothing watching.
Just a barren universe, casually mocking.
Existence, is a catalog of aligned integration.
Just a system of knowledge and past information.
Your ability to experience in all of its brilliance.
Is merely the outcome of your required existence.
Jun 20, 2020
Jun 20, 2020 at 7:20 AM UTC