with the mentality that i'm
trying to fool myself into believing
i shouldn't care but i do

in clouds
calming down
climbing the walls
of the compound
louder now
but still,
without a sound
commence the countdown

so what will you do when you're dead
will you find someone else's bed
a softer place to lay your pretty head
a easier way to release a ****** day
or will you make it home again.

it was so much easier to pretend
i didn't care when
*i didn't

with filthy, unkept
bloodied hair draping his
gritty, weather stricken face
glaring through frozen
torn eyes that have gone numb
into the punishing sunlight
of the unfathomable wickedness
a question was chained to his
morality dragging it through
nostalgia and the unknown

the waves keeping crashing
to make a sandscape kaleidoscope
despite the dashing young man
vanishing and politely asking
*stop

you produced a pocket
like a pint sized puppy nuzzling
into the bed space between my legs
puzzling how so afraid i laid and ran away
all in the same frame