I can’t get the red off the corner of my pillow
Don’t ask me about the source, I could not **** it
Or unplug it
Or erase it
I could close my eyes
Allow my eyelids to roll down my eyeballs
Like curtains over windows
But it would do no good
The red is imprinted in my mind
That red, scintillating light
Will still be there
When I open my eyes.
What is there left to do but swallow
a few blue, oval gems
And if all else fails,
I know where the red ones are
To whisk me into a quick
Deep slumber
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
When the smokes sets in
with the taste of gin
And my eyes whirl
and my head twirls
I am gone, gone,
the sky I look upon
alone and dark
The song of the lark
Rolls within my ears
Turns seconds into years
The sky finally clears
I wipe away my tears
And fight away the fears
Think of happy souvenirs
That white, billowy, ghost -like smoke
Dips me like a cake to soak,
soak in the fresh air of night
And everything which seemed trite
Now sparkles like sumptuous jewels
My mind no longer follows the rules
Set by society, because I’m faded
So all the complaints, pain and hatred
Are tossed in the wind, unrelated
To all the happiness most have wasted
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 4:14 PM UTC
There was a child went forth every day;
And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became;
And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.
He look’d upon the photograph of a scary-skinny model from Vogue Magazine that his mother had framed.
The child began to revere it, but the more he grew, the more weight he gained,
Until the day where he looked in the mirror, and became ashamed,
So he starved himself until he was completely drained;
Drained of energy and love, and the will to live.
The child became an adolescent in high school, and was isolated from society
For years no one loved him, and he befriended depression and anxiety
He could no longer live with reality,
And felt that he couldn't be healed through sobriety.
So he threw himself into harder drugs and consumed them silently.
A living skeleton, and abuser of drugs, he was known for his notoriety.
One day he met a girl, who saw through him and made his friendship a priority
She wasn’t so much different from him, and she loved him entirely.
The boy who was once a child became a man, and finally had love in his life,
But all around his home was painful strife;
The hatred was so real that he thought maybe he’d have more luck in the afterlife.
The woman who had ruined his life when his father remarried: the wife.
Now that he was eighteen, she kicked him out of the house, threatening him with a knife.
Living on the streets or on people’s couches, he often had nowhere to go
His homeless state made him see the world differently, although,
It wasn’t all bad. He learned about strange people and places and their flow.
Where he went he picked up culture and good things to know;
He learned the most from artists and authors, like Henry David Thoreau
The child had mostly known pain, sorrow, hunger and hate,
But going through the years in misery, or taking his own young life was no longer his fate.
Despite his despair, he had found his soul mate.
With the places and people he discovered, he felt rich, even though he could fit all his possessions in one small crate.
These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will always go forth every day.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
They walk in line with their heads down;
I see my mother in a black gown
My father beside her, a tear in his eye,
And I watch from above the heavy sky
The procession is slow
They pass by the coffin with woe
A sort of lethargy,
An unutterable melancholy
Had descended upon me
When Ana heard my plea
But I was no longer alone
Once she sat me upon her throne
With every failing breath I grew stronger
And restricted much longer
The pain which I had held inside
The love which I felt denied
As bones protruded from skin
A confidence grew within
But lower was never enough
And hiding from the world was tough
The numbers went down
Still imperfection made me frown
And bit by bit, my flesh decayed
The light began to fade
No matter what I paid
No matter what I weighed
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC
She flees West to find the earth of kings;
With the sweet music she forgets her fears and flies.
She takes the road, her feet, her wings.
Roaming the forests, the breeze and nature sings
Of no more society and no more lies.
She flees West to find the earth of kings.
Left far, too far behind to remember is all that stings,
And here, rumbles, clashes, and light erupt from the skies.
She takes the road, her feet, her wings.
The mud, mountains, green, and all these things,
She finds, make up the place where no one dies.
She flees West to find the earth of kings.
The rapture and roar of the rolling river rings
Enough to exhaust the bells of love in her eyes.
She takes the road, her feet, her wings.
And when the time comes, as it often brings
Deep sleep or some warm demise, she will rise.
She flees West to find the earth of kings
She takes the road, her feet, her wings
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 8:02 PM UTC
There is a certain addiction to my lonely, melancholy days.
A tranquility in walking beneath the light of the moon’s every phase.
Not that its light betrays my sorrow;
The darkness envelops me, yesterday, today and tomorrow.
But the sliver of silver, the pierce of the crescent,
The glittering half and the blazing whole, incandescent
Lights my heart on fire, sets my soul alive.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
There is a certain addiction to my lonely, melancholy days.
A tranquility in walking beneath the light of the moon’s every phase.
Not that its light betrays my sorrow;
The darkness envelops me, yesterday, today and tomorrow.
But the sliver of silver, the pierce of the crescent,
The glittering half and the blazing whole, incandescent
Lights my heart on fire, sets my soul alive.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
I can see her there, Sophie
she’s sitting on a bench waiting for that bus
Her knees are curled and she’s on the phone
waiting, waiting for me to join her
I can see her there, Sophie
she is dressed in black
Her hair a fiery blue with layers and layers of shame
Her shoulders covered with fur
Sophie’s here alright, everywhere around
She sits across the table, eating the air
I look down at my plate, she’s gotten so full
My cauldron is full of jewels
She won’t leave me alone
Sophie cares too much to leave
No one else can see her, she’s sitting in that chair
No I’m not alone, Sophie smothers me
But Sophie gives me a name;
Ana or Mia or Ed
Maybe I don’t mind her suffocating presence
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 12:22 AM UTC