They dance like the little ***** they are.
One man's pain is another man's pleasure.
Gratification is met when my **** meets your tight grip,
but has this gone too far or should I hold it in?
It lingers, it holds, it chokes my very chest.
There is no beat, but the pounding still persists.
Gravitate, levitate, initiate desire.
I have no such fire,
but the blue flame guides my heat.
They go hand in hand.
*** and pain, invigorating yet nullifying.
This numb soul holds onto too many shadows,
and this ecstasy can only be held for so long...

My boss is humming a song,
While I pick at my check mix.
I eat the almonds with the m&m;'s,
And the raisins with the peanuts.

My break is almost over and I stand up
And walk out of the door.
I adjust my clothes, and start with my
Right foot out of the door.
I continue walking.

Earlier today I noticed that my post-it was moved from the window wall to the shelf wall.

I'll let that go without saying anyhting even though it bothers me so much.

Let it go.
Break the routine.
Forget patterns.

everything i've ever felt will all mean nothing as i lie in my bed, and let it all bleed out. the dark red stains on my grey bedsheets are left to remind those of whom i loved,
that their love wasn't enough,
to save me from myself.

Would you
knife fight the Devil
Naked
In a category Five Hurricane for it?

Call me a skeptic,
but, something tells me
that you wouldn't.

It's a slightly faded memory clouded by shimmering hope, but I can still remember the motions.

The most prominent sound was the creaking, whether of bones or of the bed springs. I would toss and turn all night, always emotionless and restless.
There was always a soft hissing when it was quiet, but when there was sound it was of soft guitars strumming. A voice that's cracked but clear resounds and reminds of all the turmoil.

The view itself was different. It wasn't what I had expected, nothing too dull or dreary. Instead all the colors were brighter, sharper. Except a certain halo that surrounded my proximity that seemed like a color vacuum.

The smell was dominated by the familiar scent of stale cigarettes, never fresh cigarette smoke. Sometimes it was the lingering aroma of a week old perfume still nestled into the fabric of my pillow. It's as if it was still there to help me remember that time never stopped.

These are the distinctive memories, it's how I am reminded of a time when I felt lonely.

Black geese on the waves today
crashed, then flew away
blackness was the water
that called my name, late
and never again the same
deep dark well, a cave
I went looking in, the deeper
I go, ever an echo
that calls my name
naked, stripped of shame
my heart revealed
never again
the same

Your brows furrow as you play,
trying to cage what’s written on the page:
a melody you could hold between your fingers
if only they would stop stumbling and do as they’re told,
which they do, because as the minutes tick on,
I hear the notes slowly become a song.