B E Cults

Nov 2018

not a substitute for sleep

I've only ever been physically attractive to most people that I meet,
But when my words have your mind more active,
You give me validation that can't be beat.

Intimate thoughts explored -
Avenues you have yet to travel.
My words seep deeper, pouring you overboard -
The restraints of your mind begin to unravel.

I know that I was meant to inspire -
That much has been quite evident.
Pen to paper: an act in which I will never tire -
My voice, heaven-sent.

I've got a lot that I want to say -
Way too much in my mind to write down.
Distractions and insecurities kept us away,
But understanding and similarities found common ground.

How it feels to not be completely alone -
A comfort I never thought I'd find.
Meanwhile the whole world around us stuck in a phone
As we dive deeper and adventure the mind.

B E Cults Nov 2018

Do you use eye shadow so everyone will know when you're crying?

reading what you write
sometimes gives me the
feeling of watching a
low budget **** film,
with a royalty-free excuse
to let a wah-wah pedal
accompany the wet
absence of passion.

      (a wildfire in a glass box
        or Kali candystriping in the
          cancer ward.)

you cannot expect
spines to tingle when
you refuse to acknowledge
the deepening abyss in the
facets of self you wear
like hospital gowns.

sometimes i see the naked
singularity hidden behind
your "this is me" event-horizon
and i bathe in it's impossibility;
i could drown in it's defiance, smiling,
if only you could learn to...

B E Cults Nov 2018

Spoons

we know the world from
what we see on the back
of a tarnished silver spoon.

you could make an art out
of the polish, seeking the perfect
patina, judging the skill
of others; that grotesque collective gaucherie.

I say drop it in the dirt
and walk off into that
whirlwind of unsullied
strangeness swirling
behind the perspectives
we value so much.

do what you want.
it is in your hands.
literally.

#levels

B E Cults Nov 2018

uuummm

alacrity has always eluded
me; always the dumbstruck
drunk stumbling through
the realization that his revelry
is past it's shelf life
and immediately forgetting
what it felt like.

displaced perpetual.

still, i write love songs to
the hum of an empty fridge
for no-one in particular;
call it a romance or
call it pathetic.

i couldn't care if i wanted to.

even the sun becomes a myth
to anyone who stares
at it long enough.

so i'm ok with it.
all of it.

at least, that is what i tell myself
over and over until even
the love songs stop
spilling.

#sad #happy #depressed #free #anxiety #romance #love #hate

B E Cults Nov 2018

Untitled

your smiles taste funny.

the taste lingers and makes
me think of the way **** smells
in a pipe
or how seeing a dead animal on the road
for more than one day makes you
look at the established order as a stranger.

it probably has everything to do with perspective...