Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Roman Jun 2018
Drifting behind me

She'd come to trample my mind

Her whim overwhelmed
A haiku seems appropriate.
Roman Jun 2018
The sun leans on the roof of Wanted workers
The money they make is built on the money in graves
Protest signs in dumpsters
Astrology signs in caves
The strings; they are pulling
The strong; they are ashamed
The weak; they are to blame
Baby doll has no name

I've been here once before and I'll never be again
I've said that once before. This time I'll hold my breath
It's certainly her body. Is it then her soul?
Is the fault that of the master? He must be in control
I'll tell her it's alright, but the truth is I don't know
Baby doll is not alone
Baby doll does not know

The sun bends past the roof
The money has been made
Protesters have been mistakes
New parking's being paved
Baby dolls don't have a face
They are personified
Baby dolls can not feel pain
The master forces hand
Baby doll's not in the plan
Roman Jun 2018
Time has been still for far too long

It's time to stand still and prove time wrong

I haven't moved in 2 years, now I hope I'm strong

If I'm not, I do not belong

I feel the time I've spent is rock, I can't know what to do

But when I spend my next few years I hope I live them through

I hope to do the thing I never had the heart to do

I hope to push through you and blue and prove the life I knew

I want the life of admiration, the one with excitement

Not the boring illegitimate shroud of gloom and tint

The one that fills your mouth with ****. In the end, you learn to spit

The now and then of every day where you've no clue what you're to get
Making hard calls.
Roman Jun 2018
Four white walls, one straight noise
Artificial girls always pick on the boys
Four worlds out, one world in
Four is more if one is gone and none begins to spin
You are me and I am you
And I'm with us that orbit you
Stare and glare don't weep and moan
To no surprise you've wet your eyes and now deserve a throne
I will walk away alone
I would put my hands together, knee to ground to knee
But with so many Gods, and so many streets, how can one God bleed?
I believe in me
Imaginary crickets - they sit on swings and kick their legs
They watch and wait for me to wake and chirp throughout my day
I stand tall - a thousand craters in my hands
For what they've done is dark and bland - attempt to understand
I am only a man
Sarcastic spies hold eyes that lie and lips that follow suit
Tongues will roll but karma's bold - enough to come back through
I see your cuts and scabs construed but souls, they do not bruise
It's very cold when past is present and future is bad news
I wish I had some food
I am hungrier than you
A very lonely time in my life. Written roughly 10 years ago.
Roman Jun 2018
I unconventionally condescend to a bitter result daily

I wake and conspire a conclusion for faith

Placed at attention are my facts; I have few

Till Quaint Malaise fades, there's nothing called new

Though outcomes occur, a fortune seems scarce

I'll hope it's oblique and my scruples are lies

To condole for oneself is to wish conscientious disdain
Roman Jun 2018
Ignoring most the heart-held hate
I kiss her face and love the taste
Beholding hands that **** and won't
Love is just a subtle loan
Inside the skies lies endless cries
Music comes and music dies
Infants grow just like mistakes
Reverse the age and compensate
Futuristic toolsheds that **** the men and take their bread
Pouring blood and tears and sweat, do we complain when we get fed?
Ask acrylic paint to see
A beautiful picture with beautiful trees
With beautiful water on beautiful seas
On a beautiful day with a beautiful breeze
Now ask that same paint to bleed
For the endless death and haunting screams
For broken hearts and shattered dreams
For all false notions between the seams
This is the world of reality

— The End —