I can't think straight
(Or crooked or sideways).
I'm too ******* tired to invent some new distraction
(You're no good at party tricks)
And too scared to figure out what the hell I want.
The water's filling up your lungs—
A kiss could make it all better,
But I'm too busy blowing bubbles
And skipping rocks across the surface.
Despite it all, you stand and wait
When I fall behind on our afternoon walk
And offer me your arm when the trail gets steep.
You're oxygen, but I'm reaching for novacane,
Trying so hard to be indifferent to the spark in your eyes and the part of your lips,
Though I know **** well it's no use.
I am a moth to a flame—
When it burns too bright, It consumes me.
So I'll turn away before it starts,
Blind myself to every truth except the one I live inside:
If I can't love you, I can't love anybody.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:43 AM UTC
I started smoking cigarettes again
Something about having another thing burning between my fingers
Besides your hands
Makes me dismiss the feeling that lingers
when I think of you
Since I can’t have your taste in my mouth
Menthol will have to do
I am addicted
Isn't this sounding familar?
You **** me inside starting with my lungs
Like the small nicotine sticks do with every inhale
I would much rather your slender fingers in my hand
But for $10 a pack they last around a lot longer than you do
No matter how much you rot me from the inside out
A piece of me will always be yours
Always
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:41 AM UTC
Busy tones fill the ears
Just to hear answering machines
Messages left unanswered
Until the time is wrong
Left wondering why they're gone
Young one, turn to a pen
Tops off to them all
Pants fall just the same
Maybe this is what they meant
When they said love is an action
We don't know why
But the hole isn't filling
How many times can this be written
How much is there to say
I wear this cross on my sleeve
To remind me
That I'm not alone and I
Can stay strong
Their screaming voices saved this one
Giving an outlet for the pain
But it became too easy to live there
Haunting themselves with the sounds
Of unpleasant settling
And unwanted misery
How many times can this be written
How much is there to say
I wear this cross on my sleeve
To remind me
That I'm not alone and I
Can stay strong
I need a new muse
The past is daunting
Haunting every part of me
Killing any chance
Of a future
I may blow my fuse
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:30 AM UTC
What happened to us was something like
what happens to flowers when the vase shatters,
Or what happens to misplaced keys;
Someone was careless,
Didn't pay attention,
And now we're left with empty spaces.
What happened to us was something like
What happens to the moon as the Earth spirals on its axis,
Or what happens to the trees as it starts to snow;
We were inevitable, natural,
But cyclical,
Never able to withstand the darkness,
Or keep together through the cold.
When you left, you took my pride with you,
Swore it was all my fault
Until I believed you.
I let you think that you meant nothing,
But you were the moon and I was the tide,
Without you, I'd cease to be.
In some other life, you'd be an artist, and I'd be your muse.
Long after we'd gone, they'd hang your paintings at The Met and say, 'Look how much he loved her.'
I'd still be a poet, of course, only this time
My poems would be taught in classrooms—Picked to the bone by children who'd scribble verses on their arms,
Wishing for a love just like ours.
Maybe tomorrow I'll feel better, but right now
Everything hurts and I wish you were here.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
I remember the you
That you used to be
Do you remember who
I was when I was me?
I forgot the truth
Of when you were true
I forget even more
Like when I was too
Do you remember?
That one late night?
You said you loved me
And it felt so right.
I believed you
Thought it couldn't be better
Then just you and me
In love and lust together
But you lied
I still don't know why
Then I cried
And you said goodbye
That was really me
The me that was with you
Now I'm damaged
I'm not sure what to do
That wasn't the real you
Not the man I knew
He wouldn't have left me broken
He was honest and true
What happened to you?
The truth?
You probably don't even know
You've always been confused
You don't even realize
What happened to you....
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:22 AM UTC
***I've bled the blood of a thousand lies
Tasted the feast of her demise***
*I've seen her stripping away from time
Like a dying artists rhyme*
***If it wasn't for the echo of vitality
She would taste an oh bitter reality***
*Oh she, oh she, blessed without judgment
Criticized without budget*
***At last she stalks the shadows no more
It wasn't long ago crept the woman from ground floor***
*All goes without saying ones demeanor
Is a wild poem hiding a message where the grass is greener.*
-Joseph B Schneider
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
I was asked
*why don't you
write something
positive?*
postive,
positive?
maybe it's like
school,
it's hard to weave
interests into subjects
coincident not
of delight
a page is an unworn
white t-shirt
that i seem to stain
unrecognizable
when my pen
wipes it's fingers
and theres nothing
more to clean my
hands with
so i guess
why i don't write
positives a majority
of the time
is because when it rains
the ground doesn't
just decide to stay dry.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 9:18 PM UTC
The time of my life
It's the only thing I own
That is out of my control
The swing from the pendulum of life
Tells me how my events go by
Tick
I'm born
Tock
I die
But what is this for?
A God with a plan
Or rather nothing more
Than that of a universe
set forth to go on forever more
Yes, the time I have is a gift to me
For it is mine alone to keep
And my time is always free
This gift I have of Time
It help's me find the truth
I use it almost nonstop
So it led me to you
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
Pretty little people
With pretty little plans
And pretty little laughs
Behind pretty little hands
Ugly old *****
Laughing at what they said
Smiling so happily
Wishing them all dead
Pretty little people
With pretty little secrets
They confide in the ugly old *****
So sure that she'll keep it
Ugly old *****
Hateful and jealous
She wants let it go
But she's too lonely to tell it
Pretty little people
With their ******* pretty smiles
Pretty little people
Laughing all the while
Pretty little people
With endless self-esteem
Pretty little people
With pretty little dreams
Ugly old *****
Trying to be real
Ugly old *****
Don't know what to feel
Ugly old *****
Snapping at the seams
Ugly old *****
And yes, that ***** is me
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 9:12 PM UTC
You said I was pretty -- in a not so average kind of way.
You said I shined-- but not as bright as the sun.
You said a lot of things I can't quite get out of my head.
You meant a lot of things... I can't quite pin which one meant the most.
But you are like coffee- bitter and somewhat sweet when I add a little sugar.
You are you... And I'm still learning to accept this.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC