I’m not a graceful mover but I have my words with me,
I’m no john Keats, but I can still write to you sweetie,
I saw the way you walked up to me, questioned with your eyes?
The way I watch the world. You asked me, and I was surprised.
I can’t say I’ve been here too long, but I was wrong for going through,
I should of stopped when I was 16 the world was much simpler and new.
*** was great, condoms were cheap, and I didn’t need to dance.
I had the world under my pen, and a girl with it to romance.
I’d push the ink and like that I had a life to show.
With love that would guide me, with a place to go,
Now I have three sets of stairs to my make way to my room.
One for each year of memories that I have lost.
One day ill move on to the fourth floor to catch the moon.
And I hope you’ll be there to question me,
You seem to be the last bit of reality
In this world of emotional debt,
I’m no great writer,
but I have you, to move the words in me.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
I’m not a graceful mover but I have my words with me,
I’m no john Keats, but I can still write to you sweetie,
I saw the way you walked up to me, questioned with your eyes?
The way I watch the world. You asked me, and I was surprised.
I can’t say I’ve been here too long, but I was wrong for going through,
I should of stopped when I was 16 the world was much simpler and new.
*** was great, condoms were cheap, and I didn’t need to dance.
I had the world under my pen, and a girl with it to romance.
I’d push the ink and like that I had a life to show.
With love that would guide me, with a place to go,
Now I have three sets of stairs to my make way to my room.
One for each year of memories that I have lost.
One day ill move on to the fourth floor to catch the moon.
And I hope you’ll be there to question me,
You seem to be the last bit of reality
In this world of emotional debt,
I’m no great writer,
but I have you, to move the words in me.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
I have a guitar,
There’s a missing string.
It snapped in
my fingers, And in the silence
I looked up
hearing someone sing,
She had a pretty face
but did not notice me.
I shaped her voice into
my fingers
to be felt by their ring.
Her sound missed the notes
that came from her pretty face,
together we could leave
to play off our missing chords,
and for the silence
she had a pretty face.
I strummed into her
I swear I tried
to play her into life,
I was a chord shy
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
I came, I lied, I learned to do both and better
Poked at people’s smiles and made some myself.
This was college, I woke, I drank, I explored
Stared at girls, got caught, stared at myself and got fatter,
Smoked, laughed, and refused to throw up.
Walked to class, but I did not go through the door
Turned around happy, dizzy and hung over
Outside, Gazed at the sun and forgot I was one.
Ignored my phone, fathers calls and mother
Spoke up my lies, tied lead to my feet.
Met a beautiful demon girl and did some lines.
Woke up again to *** naked letters, I went to the beat
Listened to music, made some of my own
Wrote poems that rhymed too much, sent them to her
Drove my car on weekends running away with miles
Visited her, the demon, it made me smile some more
More *** she gave me pills, and we cuddled
Alive, long and strong. She gave me love letters
She broke my heart cheated and ran for cover in France.
I lost my mind my grades, no love for my body
My hands, I still had some rubbers and No one left.
I used them once that summer
More coke, **** pills, I hung out with friends
Thoughts of suicide all the lead the lies
Thought run away, die, run away, die
Luckily I had friends.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 5:53 PM UTC