Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Alex McDaniel Feb 2015
We could slip into the lake and lay there mellowly

We could float on the will of each other alone

If you are scared of shallowness,
we could drown into one another and find comfort at the bottom

If the water becomes unsettling we could lay out by the mountains and melt away the past on just the serenity of your smile.

We could

Oh how we could
Alex McDaniel Feb 2015
Trying to find the right words is like super gluing my mouth shut,
igniting fire works in my esophagus and praying that the seal won't break,
so my throat can implode on itself
and my mind can boil until skin and bone and washed up empathy can't contain it. So my cranium can crack outward. So my thoughts can combust in a crackling display of bright reds and electrifying yellows for everyone one to ooo and aaahh at.
Maybe then you will comprehend the depth my emotions for you
Alex McDaniel Feb 2015
is a barbed wire fence
and I am an inmate of hostile commotion
and you
are visitation hours
opening up from 3 to 4
and always leaving me wanting more
hung in a noose of suspense
behind that barbed wire fence
Alex McDaniel Feb 2015
Treat your life like you are the thinly drawn apple tree
out side the window.
When the day is forgiving and provides you with light,
cultivate and grow, stretch your branches to the  sky,
show the world you are alive, provide shade for the less fortunate,
and bear fruit for the empty.

If the world is a portrait of darkness,
and the clouds become to thick as the temperature plummets,
change your perspective,
grow oranges and reds instead of greens
until the weight becomes to much to bear.
then free yourself and shed your pain,
leave yourself bare to world, embrace your vulnerability.
plant your roots, be strong.

Spring will always be around the corner.
Alex McDaniel Jan 2015
Tossed in the furnace
Beaten, burned to a crisp
Till they scream to be taken out of the
******* hell hole that is adolescene.

Taken out
Minced into fine peices
Hung out to dry  in the prisons of useless social conformity.

In the game of emotion
the game that you're not supposed to win.
Alex McDaniel Jan 2015
a man walks a tight rope,
the wind does kart wheels across his nose
reminding him of unwelcome territory
and the rope complains bitterly about how he's unfit for the job.
holding the balance of one man's life is too much for me it scoffs.
the man laughs.
life? he thinks.
what a unfortunate thing to be a part of.
Alex McDaniel Jan 2015
He was a mountain,
pieced together with jagged edges,

forever frozen in one place as one of natures accidents.

She was the sunset,
pink and radiant,
full of life,
reborn from the heavens every morning,

when she moved no one said a word.

Often she would spill over his summit,
wiping herself around each peak.

Tourists came from every where to appreciate it,
they pulled out their cameras ready to capture her beauty.

To him it was never about her, but the both of them in that tiny black view box.

Together they made a stunning picture.

When the picture of them was show he was always the destination,
she was the accessory, the edging that just happened to be there.
Whether it was an infection of greed or true love, the mountain became obsessed with becoming a seven by ten kodak pinned on a wall.

In fact he loved it too much,
eventually the sunset went away and he was left cold and dark.
The Ocean won her over, a warm, unchanging calm who's personality seemed to engulf the world.

Tourists came, staring in awe at the ocean,

and the sunset just happened to be there.
Next page