I painted the pollution in the sky with my own blood
I was proud
So I sat below it, as it dripped back down
Puddle by puddle
I can see what it was that pain passed on
The pollution of my own wreckage
Thick, it choked my breath
I stress over my own twisted toxins
Carrying the weight of me
On my back

Back home.

I have a heart full of cement
Solid... Permanent
I've sang your lament over and over again
But every song has the same intent
Like something permanent.
I regret not having a patent on your scent,
Or the way your teeth are bent or broken.
Like at some point a decent person
        Had a cruel accident
                 But, against your jaw
..........A fists descent...
...To punish you..........
And forever augment that one percent of you.
I don't know the intent of the event
But, I do know you underwent some hell
To get to me, in our present
But, that doesn't matter my gent
My denouement is becoming distant
         ...you are here...
                      And there you went.
But, our two souls are water and powder
We create cement...
**Permanent

Rain, so fine just like dust
looking at sky, purple,
over-the-top roller coasters
Peaking at 92 mph
dodging the yellow
More than numbers, I passed
Cardboard windshield for glass
Clarity, it comes and goes
I need to slow down
Even when I'm
Not going
Fast enough.

Running inside, closing down and shutting off
It might be easy for some
It's torture to me... I torture myself.
No one cares when I disappear
No one notices
My phone doesn't ring.
Maybe I miss Facebook events
Some of which included a family death
And still, my phone didn't ring.
No one knocks on my door
No questions are asked of what's going on
With me,
in me.
When I announce my retraction
They slightly caring folks will await
A Facebook update
They don't call.
The whole world goes on
while I'm trying to not post my depression
for the five friends that care.
Although the care only reaches as far as
waiting for my facebook post
telling them I'm "ok"
      But
            I'm
                  Not

A year and a half has passed since I crashed my motorcycle.
The broken bones and road rash had since been cast away.
The gassed up tank and fast paced life were smashed together.
A singular bash that cached my memory.
Lights flashed and all of the sudden whiplash has new meaning.
This thrash of two autos blinked my eyelash three days later.
Paralytic forecast.
I lay flabbergast.

The barrier of poison and ****
                    You're better than us
                   A metal chassis of rust
                                           Anonymous.
This and that and jist and just
                     An abyss full of fuss
                                   No love or lust
                                            Anonymous.
Cease to speak or discuss
                    A might or a must
                         The empty pie crust
                                             Anonymous.
Preference to throw or ******
                       Detest and disgust
                         To cry or get crushed
                                             Anonymous.

Become the answer.
Remove the why.... I mean, "y".

The nation is yours.

Get it?
Think. Feel. Live. Love.
It's up to us, the little guys.
The thousandaires, or hundredaires...
****, even the dollaraires.

We ARE America.
I AM America.
I am love.

Look...
The day will come where it takes a mortician
to show you there are worse things than your depression.
Death and/or dismemberment.
It's not just a falsified insurance claim.
The day you fell to your knees and wept over the great pacific ocean
In the city of angels you were humbled by its majestic potion.
A message in a bottle sent.
Or it was swept carelessly away in the rain.
The day you spoke about your loneliness sitting in an upright-coffin-confession.
Adjacent to the man who ***** children to make himself feel... more... man.
Literally, I meant.
Did that yet distract your pain?
The day you cried to the doctor about your back and lack of motion.
She had just finished up hospice for her cancer-ridden husband over the phone.
Off to die, he was sent.
But, oh, that little tiny pain.
The day you complained to your flat-mate about your job being so mundane.
As she opened the letter from her employer who fired her, after ****** her, to avoid the human resource claim.
You were hell-bent.
As she went insane.
The day you cried to your best friend about your second wedding being destroyed by the rain.
He was a man who had never felt the embrace of love, the ability to cherish, the passion and pain of a woman, he had paralyzed legs, no woman had ever loved him.
Booooooo-hoo your costume got wet.
You've never even tried to see anothers suffering.

A year has passed since I crashed my motorcycle.
The road rash had since been cast away.
The fast paced life was smashed together.
A singular bash that cached my memory.
Lights flash and whiplash has new meaning.
This thrash blinked my eyelash three days later.
Dreary forecast laid flabbergasted.

My pretty friend, the definition,
...a Chopin-esque romantic, needing intervention
frantically resilient, a mere honorable mention
...burning for forgiveness with hypertension
Craving your redemption.

In the secret section you mention
...there's tension in your confession
another missed connection
...misled by another's deception
the impression on the connection
...a misconception on another selection
rejection is a whole new obsession
...this seventh dimension perception
the impression is to employ prevention.

Because Attention Attention!!
...need I not mention
there's no landing affections
...just internal tension
my infection is your retention
...misappropriation.
......misapprehension.

Me and my broken hands run across your broken face
You're leaving me a memory of just your trace
Your words spell out my name, and nothing, the same.
I say, "It's OK".
Today can be a new day.
I'm not supposed to mind that it's not "our time".
But I want everything I want.
And I didn't want you to leave me that way.
Please understand what I say
when I sing to you...
when I sing to you......
           without words.
Me and my broken hands run across the broken ground
I'm looking for the angel that I once found.
Stars spell out my name, and nothing, the same.
I say, "It's OK".
'Cuz today can be a new day.
I'm not supposed to mind that it's not our time.
But I want everything I want.
I didn't want you to leave me this way.
Please...
Please......
Understand what I say.
When I sing to you...
When I sing to you.......
            without words.


https://soundcloud.com/spsara/broken

Did I leave all of those women
a sacrifice
should I believe all of the judgement
paralyzed
the lies in all of the eyes I've slid by
embraceable
the saliva I've slid across the skin of too many women
overflow
losing myself in flesh just to be able to bear with...
life

I was in a six car collision
there was an executive decision made
to execute an evacuation of a body done with precision
by helicopter excision to division this family
and make a permanent revision to the vision held.

It's probable my daddy was being taken to a hospital
but he could have been going on a popsicle ride
to a proverbial icicle ride in the sky for that's all I knew of flying
volatile tears that never healed unstoppable fears.