You used to date someone who expresses her love for you in
secret love letters,
in far-away stares,
and in closed doors.
You used to settle
for kisses behind curtains,
attachments on empty hallways,
and memories being hidden.
Until you met me
in broad daylight,
in sunny days,
and blue skies.
Until I made you realize that
you are not meant
to be locked
You are meant to be free—
I don't want to breathe
but I still do
just to spite myself.
Making each morning
the remainder of questions
and the child
I know nothing about.
i look at you and think to myself, “how could someone be so hesitant to love You?”
the sun had already sunk so low by the time your body hit the couch.
your eyes closed and head tilted back, as the seconds pass by.
i can tell your breathing became less automatic after you let the alcohol burn your throat.
i can tell that it seemed to taste much more different to you.
this time, your tastebuds dancing to every sip you take.
from that bottle of blue raspberry flavored wine.
and maybe it’s because cupid missed your heart and hit you in the throat.
so hard that even your hangover hurt almost as bad as your heart rupturing.
i see the lamp next to you shining like the city of Vegas, especially during your loneliest times.
and i think about how you’re so fragile and devastated after she left you.
you sit there all night as your body is trying not to give out.
you collapse over and over again after each sip,
yet you still close your eyes as if the world around you isn’t falling apart.
i hope that one day you find someone who isn’t the missing pages
but the entire story
just as you are.
Tripping on Lynch
and sipping a fix mysteriously
digitized while any friction
imprints onto my drifting mind.
I used to wonder if the missing time
disappeared into the wicked "Why"
until it proved that concern was
the hidden eye that's twitches
behind the lid of the night sky.
it's indifferent to the light that splits
these dimensions lack what we wished they did.
That's a sick sadness to witness.
Tragic like the traffic lights reflected in the windshields of wrecked cars.
gas leaking onto the cracked concrete.
Stars silent as the space between them.
I abandon those even better than I used too.
So pursue what you want.
Because as you can see I don't hesitate.
I chase narrative threads like a pretty face in a crowd.
Being dead to things that chain you to the proverbial radiator is good.
Listen to my words.
Listen to my cry,
Of a broken child.
But don't forget,
That I can listen too.
I see your lonely words,
And I'm here
So many poems are cries for help disguised as art. I know what it's like. Don't give up. <3
Wrap myself up in Saturday
Tighten the day around me
Relaxation should be fashion
With a stage of people lounging
Letting the week fall away
Wouldn’t that be luxury
A runway show
Of casual mornings, easygoing evenings
Affordability in the convenience
Drink down fancy coffee and hot chocolate
As Saturday becomes a world renowned designer
Of my relaxation
Point the barrel at me.
Let me see my future
unfold right before my eyes
as you pull the trigger.
You killed me.
scars of wars
Steel Vaulted Gas Chambers
Arnold Red Brick Ovens
marching us into the wind
living by myself
gives me time to confess,
no more fooling around
once a training ground,
is now a fortress.