Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
wanting to try again
but scared I will hurt you again
you play the game and i do too
puzzle pieces, elmer's glue
truth or dare to tell the truth
when you stare i always lose

twenty questions maybe more
wipe it clean across the board
money flowing out our hands
with 3 questions left to ask

folded paper, rock, or scissors
personality trivia quizzes
you try to guess behind my back
while i guess inside your hands

hands we used for patty cake
over used...games people play
dreams billowing
like breezes on a sail
flowing rivers
blue flowers
mysteries of the moon.
 Sep 2015 Brian Payamps
Amy J
2am
 Sep 2015 Brian Payamps
Amy J
2am
I can't sleep, so here I lie awake; thinking of **you.
you are
fire
drawing me
almost mechanically but almost
because i am bound by my own volition
almost rationally

and as i inch closer
your energy
radiates:
radiance i cry
oh my
your warmth
holds me
permeating my skin
seeping into these
iron arteries and
cold, cold guts
(you unravel my knots)

my eyes reflect you
because you are all i see:
all i want to see
i'm a submissive prisoner to your beauty
captivated willingly

i am yours
and even if never
ever
will you be mine
**** it
**** it all
yours i will still be
and no
this is pure delight to me,
i won't consider it a tragedy

your embers are worthy of stars
your hot fumes to me an aroma
and if the price of becoming close
and closer
to you is the
disintegration of my flesh
so be it
give me death
because
i only feel alive
when i am with you

so burn me please
written with 5 people in mind
I don't know anymore this is just word dump haha
Calloused hands, long days work
Responsibilities are never shirked
Eating keep from what I give
What a crazy life to live
Wanting, yearning for something more
Not quite sure where happy's stored
All the while keeping on
Listening to mournful songs
Hoping that life has something more
Searching, striving towards the next door
Can't stop now, I've just begun
Starting with the rising sun
Praying hard it doesn't set
Like it did when we first met
Trying not to be undone
Really thought you'd be the one
Sitting here with a smoking gun
My life, to me, didn't mean a ton
the fatalist in me thinks about a Trump vote
quietly marking the box that will end the American dream
snickering to myself as the ballot falls into the bin
knowing I have done my part to bring about the end –
destroying families across the land
and building a wall greater than any Chinese design
breaking the back of a faltering agricultural system
asking the masses of impoverished to stand right there with him –
expressing a desire to actually nuke Iran
and that the military would rival that of any era
planning on expanding our empire abroad
telling the public that peace is a fraud –
I cannot help the reality that I am entertained
frozen with terror, eyes peeled to the spectacle
this train wreck developing is really just catching speed
could the American people willingly vote for greed –
there is only one way to bring about the end of days
and like anything it takes work, practice, and dedication
but this move seems more real than any before
we are all being wooed by Babylon’s ***** –
I, for one, am going to sit back and enjoy this ride
it’s not often one gets to see the fall of Rome
a nice mountain lake; spring fed and crystal clear
waits hidden in the mountains if the end gets too near –
see, having a plan means there’s no reason to worry
and gives me the advantage to vote for your doom
while most of you sit, hands folded to pray
I’ll hike to the hills when we come to the end of days –
maybe I won’t survive the coming nuclear battle
when ‘the donald’ shoots his mouth off to Vladimir Putin
or Kim Jon, or Iran, or the Afghani folks
but until then I will prepare and go on making jokes –
slight depression in the pavement
allows mild precipitation to congregate
molecules, naturally excitable, join
lost in the reflective properties
I see the clouds flow to the east
altering form, elastic in the wind
brown leaves twirl and fly
oak ballerinas dance gracefully  
lighting ever-so gently
atop my perfect mirror
distortion and ripples change the mood…
I toss up my collar
and walk into the dingy yellow walled prison
Friday has finally come –
Next page