Lonely city
why do u shun me?
Im as lonely as you.
Lonely people
why do you shun me?
Im as lonely as you.
Alone as well and so
very blue.
A different shade maybe,
but not so new.
I ALSO dont know just what to do.
I wonder if you all see
the hate as plainly as I do.
It filters through,
attempting to pervade
all that we try to do.
Lonely city I hear you sobbing.
You sound just like I do.
Lonesome city I can FEEL you
shivering.
Your as cold as I am, I shiver
WITH you.
The sounds that you make, my
mistress concrete.
Are the same sounds that I make.
As I tread your paths with
blistered and
aching
feet.
Sad sobbing suburbs I sob with you.
Im as cracked and scarred as you
are and my mind is too.
Sidewalks that I have walked for years.
Fret not, for someone hears.
I too cry dusty and unkempt tears.
I too have been walked on all over for so many years.
And patched over haphazardly with no care
at all for the fragile workings of my inner gears.
The very sound of you is always ringing in my inner ears.
Sounds like sorrow tinged with happy.
Im
lonely lost me,
lost in inner me,
abandoned in this lonely city
where none will
ever find
me.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 11:33 PM UTC
**** life, I feel like death. I feel like dyin. Tired of sighin. Fed up with continuously fruitlessly tryin. Really high and im flyin. Cant stay up forever. Still though, ill never stop smokin, no never. Im too real to stay or be sober, thats how it feels. Burn my own flesh sometimes, just to feel. Into shadow shards I peel. On blistered and ****** knees I kneel. For this life is too heavy.
Words are wind and we are dirt. With disaster I flirt. ********* mother nature just to watch her squirt. Boiling tsunamis and enormous hurricanes. Breathing lava veins, losses but no gains. Im starving stains, water as it floods and drains. Im pain as it pours and maims.
Winter words and summer birds all call to me wonderfully. Woeful discontented rage never vented. Running in dry rivulets out of my gaping eye sockets. No skeletons in my closet, but there ARE dripping molding bones stuffed into my pockets. Lined with self loathing. My very favorite style of clothing.
Ill ramble and roll right on. Rollin and ramblin. Bettin and gamblin all of my hope away. If I were you I would bet against me. Trees and tears raised me. Look, see? Ive got bark for skin and my confidence is thin. I would write more. But I would not know how, when, or where to even begin.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 11:12 PM UTC