My words are stuck again;
my tongues gone almost stiff.
Guess I got hung up again.
Got caught up in the mix.

And there's no one to blame,
the tales always the same.
I'll always think of sunshine when someone says your name.

We both knew it had to end,
we both could see the rust.
I'm only sorry that I left,
before I lost your trust.

And there's no one to blame,
the tales always the same.
I will always see your smile at the end of my hard days.

When I get drunk alone,
I think of how you laughed.
Then I look down at my phone,
and I let the moment pass.

I swear there's no one to blame,
this tales always been the same.
I still hear your voice amid the murmur or the rain.

Please do not get angry at me for feelings that I cannot control

I'D RATHER GO BLIND THAN WATCH MYSELF BE REPLACED

i can write your name into my skin over and over
but it doesn't matter how many times i translate these feelings into verses
and convert my longing into lines

i can never write myself into your story

My teeth keep-
          Falling out
                 When I speak

And they choke
On insomniac dreams
As I swallow them--

Finger nails-
Belittled by dearth
Took ephemeral essences

With tears they
Destroyed the meanings-
Of love,

To revel solely
Alone in a void
Crafting broken pieces.

i can feel spirits of tortured souls
they can crawl right up my spine
they won't let me let the horror go
their suffering is all mine

i can hear voices of murdered dreams
like a ringing in my ears
i ask god why i'm serving screams
i ask why i'm herding fears

i see fingerprints of ****** grips
crimson smudges paint my wall
i write down their troubled scripts
every time those spirits call

audio recording
https://soundcloud.com/gary-loftis/spirits-of-empathys-burden

if you like my poetry, like my page please
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Your Thoughts
Were A
Gray Cloud.

I Tried
To Save
You From
Them.

But
They
Just Kept
Pouring
Me Down.

Hold My Hand
Tight,
Sit On
This Tree
With Me,
And We'll
Watch Metors
Filled With
Immortality
Powers
Fall Underneath
Our Sunkissed
Lips
Stalinizing
Our Exsitence
Of Being
Human.

i

This is for thou both miss Vicki, and miss Beth Stclair, true poet's
Miss Beth StClair, thy sonnet style, brings back the old smile I see;
Miss Vicki, writing of love so quickly, so beautifully inspiring
Miss beth, thy word's got me flying I'll buyeth thy book real soon.

ii

Miss Vicki, thou art an old soul made of gold, a home amongst homes, as thou liveth in mine state, miss beth, I'd seeith thee if I go to England, amongst the Beatle street's we'll speaketh of ourn living's, and reciteth sonnet's of Shakespearian knowledge.

iii

Miss Vicki, thy jargon is wrapped like a bouquet, glazed with honey, thine words art displayed, people in this world like Thee I do prayeth, that thine life wilt be joyful, and harmonious in thy tommorrow, beth, I feeleth thine wild's, as the sixties thou hadst.

iv

Beth StClair, if it was back in the day, we'd be wonderful friend's, thou wouldst hath watched me on a stage, singing poetic thunder, miss Vicki, when thou feeleth down and under, continue to write thy creator in thy works, and I promise thou both, thou both hath

A friend in me......





©Brandon nagley
©Miss Vicki/miss Beth StClair dedication for both of you (:::::
©Lonesome poet's poetry