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Lucas Grant Aug 20
95% ocean 5% land
How is it something so unlikely found its way to my hand
Fingertips aged by waiting
Mind in a trance
The gun that aimed to **** landed in my hands
To aim, to shoot, to ****, to cry
The trigger trembles desperately
The question lies waiting,
To **** or to die
To hand it in and be considered a fraud,
To another pair of hands who would just stand and take aim,
Or place it back in the water to find another pair of waiting fingertips,
The blood was spilt but not on my hands,
95% ocean 5% land
Lucas Grant Aug 21
A lack of self reflection caused a tumult of upset
A lack of self determination cause a wave of missed opportunities
And it was the lack of understanding that meant we weren't meant to be
Its hard really to self confess an ending which has not yet happened but when you know deep down it's propably meant to end
Not out of hate or a concern that became an all consuming factor over time, but
A lack self diagnosis that meant I struggled to spot the problem
An abundance of youth which meant we were meant to learn not love.
Lucas Grant Oct 28
Each and every profanity I faced since 11 cemented my plan to be free and play off the beaten track until I was found
Sirens and all
Chasing me the attention of the red spotlight planted on my chest something i hung onto
through glitter and gold still managing to shoot right through the heart
The death of my love a well renowned act critically reviewed by those most willing to pay to see it
Stalls of meaningless crossovers the only interaction I ever had without being prosecuted by the tint of rose they heard in my tone
An all revealing factor I attempted to hide for so long in a glass safe
Impenetrable only was the top scarred by fingerprints grasping desperately for arteries going straight to the placebo of metal ventricles
Enough to keep them busy so that I can escape
However I search for validation a sedative for my art to prevent and outburst of madness so long overdue by the confinement of society and what they should let me do their eyes transfixed on the individuality of my act rather then the truth
So beautiful yet tragic, the blood still gushing through arteries about to burst in the desperation for love and the search for self worth
Lucas Grant Oct 28
Concrete Jungle Exposed my nature
Such beauty can only play one role
In a culture so fragile my fait had already been sold
To men with money and the materialistic beating heart I found myself so fond
Large houses fast cars so old and me so young
But possibility only limited to what I was willing to do
And so I would never do a documentary for there's something so dangerous about my truth
Sentences foreboding the whereabouts of those financial emperor's with secrets kept tightly diamonds in a fist
bleeding superiority into my bed drained of financial safety through my fatal transactions
Objectified by the bankers so my malevolence is unforseen
So silent in how I claw fortune, through the rabbit hole of love
Desperate and rich they see me as a one night freak until I steal their possessions and they lose possession of me
Easy obtain but so hard to keep hold
The only boy in business
Who kept the house, the keys and stayed bought,
never sold
Lucas Grant Aug 25
Don't forget me
Forget them and what they said
Forget about those days and those thing we did
Forget the reason that we're now Nostalgia but bittersweet in history
Loving but living separately
Forgetting the worst but remembering the greats
It's just bittersweet Nostalgia
Something we can't forget
Lucas Grant Aug 20
Find me lying outside your room,
Wearing only Black Couture,
Rose by Rose your dragon tattoo,
**** for me and I'll be yours

Thunders lighting up your walls
Sat reminding of all i had before
You sit and sing about my Black Couture

Staring down at your car
Infidelity tattooed on your arm
So tell me what did you expect the consequences to be
What more did you expect me to endure
Not a man of silk or an ethical being but at least I was yours
All of me and more

I shot
And buried you in Black Couture
Based on the senseless betrayal that comes with love I delve into the haunting that follows an affair and wonder what could have been.
Lucas Grant Aug 25
The 9 lives of love
Seemingly start with you
Falling for the one who got to be the first I choose
But these confessions of a convict always have me feeling blue
I suppose it wouldn't hurt hurt much if what I had to say wasn't so true
Snippet of an anthology I'm working on called Confessions of a Convict
Lucas Grant Aug 30
Disembodied, broken like fragments of reality colliding with fear even so far it felt like he was hear haunting me and teasing reminding me of my actions
Instant and unchanging
Harsh and unforgiving
Never having met me but still having all of me
Saved to the cruelty of social contempt
My youth is what he kept..
      Following my struggle he  
                                           Laughed?
                 As
                        I
                             Wept
Lucas Grant Aug 26
It's not easy to say but I'm asking for help
I'm confessing that I'm bruised and that I'm trying to build myself back up with superficial nonsense an insubstantial material to make me whole again
I miss who I was when I was 11 and i protect that innocent boy who over 5 years I lost and am now wondering why?
Left to fix myself up out of false apologies and unrequited hope
Lucas Grant Aug 20
Long live Hermes victim of one fatal lie
When i see myself in him they deemed him as a prize
Not something that he'd  won but someone he felt he deserved
But can a slave be a lover when he's only forced to serve

Pretty always the aim but presumed as the ultimate goal,
Or maybe you're only defined as naive
Hermes just and island too fragile for your seas
A boy made a man buy a misconception of love
His silence so deafening since you talk his ability to talk

His freedom and independence tarnished by insults
Discredited and owned by the future emperor of Rome
Truly he was the slave but I thought he would've been more

When two lives intertwined then you talk his and crushed it in the jaws of your power
They aim for the head but the brain the use is so lower
Dedicated to the poor guy in those about to die which freaked me out and I felt a connection between the character
Lucas Grant Aug 20
Hopeless City please remember me when I end up forgetting myself,
Hopeless City please guide me when I take a wrong turn in hope of finding something new,
Hopeless City please don't leave me like so many others have before you
Hopeless City, crowded buildings, empty streets but night life booming,
Master of fait, future keeper, love maker, love stalker all consuming
Hopeless City please remember when I end up forgetting myself,
Hopeless City please don't lose interest and turn your attention somewhere else,
Because I'm not much but I'm something,
Im swimming when your sinking,
Nights alone, *** drugs and drinking,
Hopeless City please we're both falling but at least we're not alone,
Hopeless City please don't forget me for your my only home
Lucas Grant Oct 28
Such was blue sea under black sky
Crescent in today's time
14 to 1 was the black rose I gifted
But that poison was mislead and never intended
The pain struck an arterie but my bullets always come back around
Maybe that's why I suffer for so much longer or at least that's what I'm told
Now I'm starved of oxygen such was my deprivation of friends
I couldn't escape so instead I made an exit through the whole in your heart and took out those by your side
This sadness is Unrequited for I made a villain out of me
It's a shame to say that I did break so now I cry silently because I lack the luxury to be free such like the one you write
The inescapable fait I now understand so well you a writer foreshadowing my failure and ultimate demise
I was a poet who chose battles so my death was no surprise
I fell out with a friend and at the start of the year they had written a poem which when scrolling through my camera roll I found and edited as though a response. I guess in a way though it's not complete but just wanted to share x
Lucas Grant Aug 20
Concentrated anger finds me between the symmetrical collision of clocks,
Two matte black hands reaching for my neck as the hull of my ship crumbled under the weight of a restless consciounce , drowning in secluded tears by empty knowledge docks
Silenced by superiors to a point that my forced vow of tranquility deprived me of my sight
Still asking for your thought process and what gave you the right
Listing my flaws and making them public
Constant thoughts you had in happier times no longer remained unpublished
Spilling secrets at private parties knife to my neck a notoriety still tarnished if you aim for the head
Only burning my reputation to avoid a longer sentence, openly confessing unrequited sympathy
For the witness
The accused
The guilty
You called me all but the prosecutor
A title stolen so untimely by hands of crimsen, deep eyes of green and and a mind so emotionally refined you seemed unperturbed by the ****
How?
Pushed off the bridge of sighs,
Reasons in the plenty
Imagined a 1000 times,
Granted one final look at my tarnished memory
Signed off with a kiss and two crosses by its side the culpable apparently on nobodies mind but the name liberte the only one on mine
The sense of betrayal when turned on by a once friend but they antagonise you so know one suspects the real villain
Lucas Grant Aug 26
Teach me that title of melancholia
The feeling of Sadness and consumption of grief
Permeating happiness and purifying madness that bitter taste of melancholia harsh but true
Might delete later not sure just a spur of the moment
Lucas Grant Aug 22
Midnight conversations just don't seem to be enough
To be talking to someone but not so much so to call it love
Too scared to ask, too nervous to let it go
Not knowing how you feel creates the cracks between my nose
Gone was the sense to sniff out danger
So now I'm surprised when you go
But it's the way you talk so smoothly
Leaving me and my morals in your haze
Its just I don't know if Midnight conversations are enough to make me stay.
Lucas Grant Aug 20
Am I really the coward when I never even knew what I was fighting for ?
Lucas Grant Aug 21
Roma is where I met you,
You said you were a fighter born from the waters of Venice,
But I knew better hiding in that sweet ladies apartment on 11th Street,
Hiding from love.
        Then there's hiding from you
On our second date you told me you were an actor,
Glittering under the fatal light of Hollywood,
Your talent mistaken for imitation of your greatest tragedy,
That fatal kiss in the streets of Roma
Where you told me you were a singer known for unusual lyrics,
But i didn't mind listening to your symphonies
For they imitated sirens and so I should've seen it sooner
For on our final date you told me you were a builder known for building great relationships
And so that's why I sit writing in this sweet ladies apartment on 11th Street because it surprised me so much when you broke ours.
In Roma where I met you, where you said you were a fighter,
Yet your actions were treason because betrayal is normal in Roma,
The place I left you with all the right intentions and
                         All
                             The
                                   Wrong
                                              Reasons
It's interesting really when I say I enjoyed writing this poem when it felt a mixture of autobiographical while entirely not a true self confession of my life truths however I find it comforting and safe to turn my struggles into stories that lightly reflect how I've felt through personal experiences.
Lucas Grant Aug 20
I'm wary of my fatality and it feels more than a flaw,
You complete me and im scared
Nervous at the prospect of your darkness
Wary of your light
                 But is this happiness?
This feeling of adrenaline whenever I see your name
Even in my dreams
And my darkest fantasies
You are my only constant
And it's this fragility that's scares me
Only because its true

I should be happy by myself but I'm only happy when I'm with you.
The nervous feeling when wondering whether your happiness should rely on another half
Lucas Grant Aug 25
Catch me on the surfside
White shorts tan lines
Sipping bacardi watching guys
Surfing between splitting oceans with clear minds
Sun stirring lights blurring
Body working and still smirking
Cause its late summer and I'm gonna be sat here till midnight
Glasses down, legs out
Living life all mine so
Catch me on the surfside
Lucas Grant Aug 20
Made of milk and bathed in honey,
Eyes like gold,
Nails fine like money,
Teeth like sugar and a smile like dimes,
The Man Of Lace was everything
Everything but mine
Attracted to someone sweet isn't always a good thing
Lucas Grant Aug 30
Did you ever hear the man so blind he couldn't tell the boy who loved him,
Saw him so clearly with blue eyes in parallel with him
So sweet but unseeing
So cold while still not meaning
To hurt the boy calling himself Mr Diamandis out of delusion not happiness
But tragedy was what had begun
So sweet to the eyes and so sour to the taste
The Man played so careful it seemed careless his love was seen as misplaced
But maybe delusion was all as alleged kept from the court out of fear from sharp edges
Too far to reach too unlikely to be his
The town called it crazy
I called him Tommy Diamandis
Lucas Grant Oct 28
To he honest I'm pretty ******* tired of being on my own
Im not really
But still my lack of love makes me angry
Yet I'm Y
               oU
                    N
                        g
That's what everyone else says anyway
Still I'm crazy and no longer problematic
Happy but never enough to prevent sadness
Out to most but still hiding from the majority
Avoiding the conflict I once used to untimely cause and angry at my protagonistic temperament
Raising it's head once in a foreign land
But it didn't last long because previous pain is still there
The oppositions have since dropped from the ceiling to an unknown cause but my webs are still in position camping out in the corner
a silk prospector expressing only malevolent intent
Never really meaning and now that im controlling the pain it's hard to admit, but there's part of me that still reigns in the areas of that room
Skulking through the tears usually my own labelled jester for those on that egotistical throne
So maybe my confidence flickering and unnerving, split between the characters I get to play between the seasons is one of the significant catalysts and thousands of reasons that I'm now on my own
everyone an opposition on my radar
the choice,
to be a villain for the people of my past or be trampled over by those in my present, an insight into my future.
That's if I make it because my obvious disdain is a recognizable trait like my unbearing love and attraction for Unrequited beauty and my I'll advised impulse to avoid the problem
                     make a list of all my excuses
           And Run to the next person most likely to become my biggest predator when I unfurl infront my secrets and ambitions secret Acts of betrayal while on independent side missions
    Diagnosed as ****** and unmedicated
              Mad when alone
    Discontent with my social standing
  And just wanting someone special to.                         bring home
Would like to release a short collection of poetry like an artist would release an EP to give people a taste of their music but I'm scared of what people say as I love writing but sometimes I feel that I'm searching for validation and I know i shouldn't but I just want to let people hear my words and enjoy/relate to my poetry
Lucas Grant Aug 20
You my Colusseum,
The fortress to my deepest emotions my endless truths and timeless thoughts of you,
The view that waits for me at the top of your garden overlooking the city of preserved golden idols and melancholic gods of War
You my Ares, blessed in the golden sun
Between the cobbled streets of history and music, knowledge and expectation,
For you my muse destined to leave like fait has foretold
Leaving for home while leaving me in Italy,
The land of great poets who fought for their love yet watched them leave,
Just like you my colosseum,
My american dream
Upset when falling in love in a foreign country but its fleeting as they must leave

— The End —