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Dec 2019 · 183
On Loop
PJ Dec 2019
Cup filled to the brim
with pungent liquid. Amber,
purple, clear: does it
matter? The clock is
ticking. The cup is not
the vessel which
                                breaks—

Crazy. Crazy, right? Maybe.
Beat the corpses, wait
for a pulse to remind you: Mother,
you’re not going crazy. You’re not.

The child only remembers
the muffled shouts.  
She doesn’t understand,
but knows to
keep silent—
head down, knees up, clutching
the stuffed Piglet. Bedsheet covers,
rising and falling. Breathe in
and out. Doors slamming.
In and out.

Someone must’ve pressed
Repeat. Must’ve thought
those saliva-choked screams
were cathartic. O Mother,
multi-platinum artist, more
than a million plays. Hit repeat.
Hit. Repeat.

Emails in crevices, muses
in hidden texts. Father asks
that you seek for inspiration
elsewhere. Fame asks
to keep that reservoir
of pain. Dig your nails
into skin. It is yours.

The young woman is  reminded
of the muffled shouts.
She does understand,
but knows to
keep silent—
head down, knees up, clutching
her stomach. Bedsheet covers,
rising and falling. Breathe in
and out. Doors slamming.
In and out.

Cup filled to the brim
with pungent liquid. Amber,
purple, clear: does it
matter? The clock is
ticking. The cup is not
the vessel which
                                 breaks—
a poem about a never-ending, alcohol and betrayal induced cycle
Apr 2017 · 1.6k
achilles and patroclus
PJ Apr 2017
who would have thought
that his smile
and soulful eyes
could bring Achilles
the mightiest of heroes
to his knees

certainly not Patroclus himself
for the sun does not know
that it shines so beautifully
it just does
dang.........I just re-read The Song of Achilles. It's safe to say that it's by far, my favorite book. My heart aches and I find myself crying every time.
Jan 2017 · 341
jazz
PJ Jan 2017
multicolored lights flashing
slowly, slowly, slowly
smoke from cigarettes wafting
slowly, slowly, slowly

you take in the smells and sights
of the small room that you're in
it's a crap hole, you cannot lie
perhaps that is why you're drawn to it

how can such lovely sounds
come from such a humble place
a place that makes you stink of
smoke and alcohol, sadness and joy  

I see their dark silhouettes against
the spotlights of the dim room
I see their fingers dancing across strings and keys
I see a single man keeping a heartbeat alive

he hits the drums and plays like
he's going to make the room fall apart
with a cacophony of loud crashes and
a choir of subtle tapping, all together

they play like they want the world to know
of the mess they hold within themselves
the mess that wants to create art for all
those who are willing to listen can hear it

not a single beat can ever be repeated the same way
not a single moment can ever be duplicated again
this is no song, this is no empty stream of notes and tones
this is a conversation between artists and dreamers

these are their hopes and wishes
these are their darkest secrets
things they will only ever share once
this is beauty and chaos as a whole

this is jazz
A poem of my experiences going to a certain jazz bar. Man, I love jazz.
Nov 2016 · 546
gone
PJ Nov 2016
life is fleeting
one moment, you see her eyes
they are fighting to stay bright
and then she's whisked away

the pain consumes her body
she can no longer move
her eyes become dull and tired
but she has been trying
she tried until the very end

beautiful child
you were too wonderful
to remain in this world
that is why the heavens took you
that is what i want to believe

beautiful baby
you are a child of the stars
for you are radiant and ethereal
you will be missed
you will be remembered

this earth has been blessed by your presence
you made my life a happier one
the ground mourns without your weight on it
the sky cries without your happy grin
this world has become a more desolate place

we love you dearly, and i keep a part of you with me
and now that your pain has ended, sweet child
we hope you have finally found peace
my dog died today. i wrote this to alleviate the pain.
Jul 2016 · 683
colors
PJ Jul 2016
we are made of colors
absorbed by light
scattered all around

we become the loveliest illusions
breathtaking, yet non-existent
May 2016 · 1.1k
Replace
PJ May 2016
I could replace you anytime
Grab someone else and call them “mine”
But I can never forget you
It’s the hardest thing to do

Replacing is easier than forgetting
I can replace an old pen with a new one
But I will never forget the poems I’ve written with it

I can replace you with someone new
I can meet hundreds of new people within these 365 days
But I will never forget the stories I’ve woven with you

So don’t tell me to find someone new
I don’t want anything new
I don’t want to replace or forget
I only want you
Another 5:30 am poem
May 2016 · 957
Warmth
PJ May 2016
So I entrust my tired and aching bones to you, dear friend
In hopes that you will give them solace beyond anything the sun's warmth can offer

— The End —