Sometimes, even though I have nothing to say, I just need to write

To write is to give voice to the permanent unrest lurking beneath the surface
And to let it all out brings peace
Momentary, fleeting peace
But for those moments my mind is quiet
My heart stops pounding out the rhythm of its discontent
My gut stops churning out reminders of all the times I ignored it, although I knew better..
And I *breathe - not just because I have to but because I want to..

what's there to write about
a floor scrubber?

in the sun on my shoulder
its light plastic touch
polythene wrapper
gaily fluttering in the wind
breathing its last light of freedom
before consigned to lifelong prison
standing damp dreaming to dry
but for that fleeting time
it rests on my shoulder
comforted on flesh and bone
on the brief journey
from the shop to a nook
enjoying the glances of passerby
curious my carrying it
a hint of boast in my gait
flaunting as if a magic wand
the floor scrubber transient yet eternal
a glorious poem material
a poem name
and a man's declaration

there's no shame
doing your work
your way.

we confuse wishes with reality

and we confuse reality with dreams

we confuse dreams with what is

and we confuse what is with desire

we confuse desire with truth

and we confuse truth with fantasy

we confuse fantasy with certainty

if nothing is certain

how can we fantasize

if we don't know the truth

how can we desire

if we don't know what is

how can we dream

if we don't know reality

how can we wish

when you broke me the first time
i cried until the tears pooled
into the dark.

when you broke me the second time
i just broke you back for hurting
me so bad.

i break easily because i love
i break easily because i love you.

The words she would have said
Became a pleasant smile
Remembering what mother said
Some things aren’t worth the while

And holding tight a war of words
Burning beneath her skin
She answered in a silent nod
That seemingly agreed

Am I loosing myself?
Or did I years ago?
Is that why I feel so empty inside?

My pain cannot be hidden,
All my words are tinged with red, not because I misspelled them,
But because my pain cannot be hidden

I trusted, I admired and I loved, but no, you didn't
All you wanted was to make me bleed
Just one knife hole would have been enough
But no, only a million needle ****** would do for you

You said I was beautiful inside
My thoughts led me to believe it was my heart you were referring to
But no, you were talking about my ******
How could I be so naive!

With my eyes closed, I let you strip away the innocence of my youth
All in hope that you would stay,
But no, you had other plans
You were on mission “use and discard”

Yes, you succeeded
Everyone told me that I could live without you,
“We have all been there and back” they said
But no, that was a fabrication,
A common platitude… that doesn't work

Well that was yesterday, before I saw you with that girl today,
Your accomplice on mission; “break her down”
But no, this time you didn't succeed
Well it’s true that we are all like pebbles of sand, the wind can blow us away
You are not an exception

The
Devil weareth
A suit
And a tie
He's
A wallstreet guy........



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

Somewhere between sane and insane dwells the lonely poet's soul.

My o.c.d disorder is scientific term standard of obsessive compulsive disorder. But i like to call my disorder
old children disorder.
From all the grown boys who look like normal men
when i run across them.