Animals
Left like animals
Behave like animals
The contrast between us was to great
for any astrological pattern.
The room was empty when you entered
only because you left it empty when you left.
I was nothing, felt nothing, thought of no one but myself.
I am no longer this person.
Oct 2, 2022
Oct 2, 2022 at 10:38 PM UTC
The duality of man
allows for a forceful angry mentality
While also acting virtuous.
The strongest man understands when to be violent
The weak man is impulsive and irrational
The wise man understands life is imperfect
The foolish man forces it be so
The virtuous man is overjoyed to give more than receive
The greedy man looks only to take
The duality of man, allows for a
Virtuous, gracious action with a pent-up
Rage beneath.
The duality of man echoes repetitive ancestral behaviors
The need to sacrifice in the name of a higher power
Oct 2, 2022
Oct 2, 2022 at 10:37 PM UTC
She was the vehicle that ultimately was her end.
The beginning of solemnity and sorrow.
Within him, a raging bull grunted in frustration,
as the crossroads were flashing red.
Leaving consciousness dazed,
the clowns pranced around
as the bull charged ahead.
Clowns flew, and suddenly the bull and clowns were one and the same.
It was clear, both share a death wish
With the bull left to bite the bullet.
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 5:57 PM UTC
Do I still write as well as I used to?
Is my writing as lackluster as my relationship,
Or is it eccentric beyond tradition.
Does it contain the same effervescence as those before?
Am I in a time warp, wasting away my days?
Instead of bettering myself,
Self-recognition was my blind side.
When I wrote emotionally
The words spoke of improvement,
Yet what has developed is rather disappointing.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 9:31 PM UTC
The cross around my neck is a testament,
To remember how I have changed,
To remember the person I once was,
To become what is to be.
Not God, not religion, about myself,
To prove to myself that I must mature through the decisions I make.
To remind myself I am not as selfish as I was.
To become the person I was afraid to be.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 12:17 PM UTC
I can't see the finish line of my growing sickness,
For you cannot leave like the rest never did.
Born into the solidarity of such an honest soul,
I left, as soon as they arrived.
As we did in our sleep, while no one watches.
A ghost within a haunted house,
Never remembered, Never forgotten.
Love is no cure, only a patch.
I imagined you leaving but how could I?
When you never arrived.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC
Blood Red is the color of its eyes,
when it consumes the host
controlling the actions against humanity.
Allowing the host to crave the insensitivity.
Leaving the one’s you love to bare the consequences.
Blood Red is the color of triumph.
Against every will of man
to wave the solemn flag of defeat.
As it’s essence lures the heart,
deserting the mind of any righteousness.
Blood Red is a cry for help,
as it’s victims have run dry,
against the impulse it desires.
Blood Red peaks into the soul,
fleeing the mind
as it flows through the body;
overwhelming the host on the eternal drug of following the heart,
and being a mascot for temptation.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 9:20 AM UTC
Write with intelligence,
Ignorance will speak.
A blissful gift to social acceptance,
And a standard to hierarchy.
Write with intelligence for it is the true testament to one’s self.
Speak with ignorance for it exemplifies the perfect facade.
Write with intelligence for ignorance only reads.
Speak with ignorance for it allows the mind to flee.
Ignorance is not bliss rather a lack of efficiency within the mind.
With the fabric of intelligence dangling at the balance.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 9:18 AM UTC
The truth is gregarious and sharp with the world being peeled away by its insensitivity.
With doctors planting gourmet pills to feed the emotional,
Although glut is an impossibility to herculean farce.
For the blasphemy has overgrown into the natural industry
Whose characteristics bespoke religion.
Praying to an idol with hedonism reaching for the hand of Theocentric disposition.
For we were taught," Resent the lies, Accept the truth"
Becoming, "Resent the truth, accept the lies for they are not as avarice.”
Destroying such intelligence to comprehend damnation.
Silky like the kiss of death.
Soft and understanding of such emotions.
Protecting such against the false truth of the universe's intentions.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 9:23 AM UTC
He lived by the smoke and faded into it.
For as it filled his lungs the wall within him grew weaker.
As the ignorant thoughts of a stress-reliever,
became a morbid death discharging the heart of its hobby to pump.
Pump...Pump...Pump...
He forced these tobacco filled killers farther and farther into his mouth.
To shove down the worries of four kids and a barely surviving laundromat.
Putting his lungs in the washer to polish his good intentions,
and dry them off with two packs a day.
Sequestering the addiction from the one’s who loved him the most.
For it was his duty to remain a role model,
and put himself on the front-lines of the tar massacre occurring in the darkness.
And suppress the killings from the kids of the future,
for his past is a piece of unknown history tucked away safely within the Marlboro Reds.
For his heart was of gold yet his actions didn’t let him live too old.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 2:35 PM UTC