blue eyes
bright smile
playful happy twirl
glossy lips
painted nails
"daddy's little girl"
cute ribbons
hair in tails
pinky polka dots
******* toys
and ****** pumps"
someone's got the hots
I'm the daddy
she's baby girl
this evening, that's the game
tomorrow
nurse and doctor
it's *** without the shame
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 2:30 PM UTC
Past ***** streets, and greasy alleys,
toward secret places unknown,
mumbling, grumbling, rambling, ambling,
a disheveled crone shuffles alone.
Silver mane blown wild in wind,
her face and hands all smudged,
in tattered clothes beyond their use,
past broken windows she's trudged.
Imperfect cart of broken dreams,
all of her obsessions,
pushed ahead on squeaky wheels,
through neighborhood depressions.
Upon a broken park bench,
where children used to play,
and having nowhere else to go,
she sits there most the day.
Silently observing,
the daily passers-by,
she feeds the birds some bread crumbs,
and sometimes starts to cry.
There she sits, throughout the day,
until the sun has set.
She packs up all her precious things,
but leaves behind regret.
People never look at her,
or only seem to stare.
Where she sleeps, no one knows,
and no one seems to care.
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 1:41 PM UTC
Suddenly awake in bed,
surrounded by the night.
Ragged breath and heartbeats drum,
fighting back the fright.
Peering through the inky black,
seeing, hearing nothing.
Then a scurry, flurry sound,
surely that was something.
A brilliant flash of lightning,
and peels of thunder sound.
Grotesque shapes and images,
suddenly abound.
With a thump and tearing sound,
something's on the bed.
Two burning eyes and pointed ears,
upon the creature's head.
Relief, at last, when realized
the sound of motor's purr,
and feeling that soft caress
could only be cat's fur.
Laughing at the silliness,
of getting carried away.
You hardly even notice
the murderous lunatic standing next to your bed with a big, ****** axe raised up above his head.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
Yesterday, you spoke of love,
sweet, soothing, and perfect.
Your words to me were sugar,
sweetest things there ever were.
But today I find it wasn't me,
whose heart you really love.
You spoke the words and made the sounds,
but feelings were never true.
Words once sweet, taste salty now,
or are those just my tears?
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 12:38 AM UTC
The skies seem grayer.
and the nights are colder.
Memories of sweet kisses,
are like ash upon my lips.
No warmth remains,
just bitter reminders,
of a fire that once burned.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
Span the hour of dark intent,
the raven's flight slips through the night.
Phantom shadows dance by campfire light,
and gossimer moonlight shines.
Unseen footsteps heard in the dark,
some black nightmare approaches.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC