There are holes in the soles of my feet. Open,
bleeding holes. Their edges
are crusted with salt. Their silence
says everything about the nature
of my pain. I'm like a mermaid,
cutting my tail in two just for a shot
at somehow finding happiness. Feet destroyed
from the hot glass I walk on
to find you, hair clotted with blood
and heavy with agony. My legs are long
broken. They fall to the floor
at all angles, shuddering screams
tearing the earth apart around me like weak
skin being ripped open by a thousand claws.
Ocean waves drag my blood back with them,
possessive and snide,
waiting for me, wretched and pathetic, to die.

i wished for a
four octave voice
riches fame
abilities to make my
guitar cry and sing
the words to touch
the whole world
money and a beautiful wife

traded it for my happiness
so where the **** did I end up
on the end of a rubber noose
two ativan
in a
locked hotel bathroom
you never know

what you are trading your
soul for when you deal

with the devil

better check those
wishes

very

very

carefully

I have moved to a different drum
With odd and peculiar rhythms
Dancing awkwardly through life
On my two flat clumsy feet
It is not the way I chose
To step on innocent toes
But the wildness of my dance
Has had no easy flow
The blame lies entirely with me
It's a genetic thing, you see
I am no more than this
The son of the gypsy's kiss

                                By Phil Roberts