Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I reached up
Between your thighs
I kissed your heart
And you kissed mine

But my heart was fickle
As you soon found
Your tears trickle
But I sleep sound

The battle is over
But my mind is at war
I never meant to hurt
To make you cry

I don't mean to be curt
And I do wish the best
But this is goodbye
Twenty nine first kisses
Maybe even more
Each in time came to pass
A few times I wondered
If she'd be my last

Twenty nine burnt matches
Lying in the sand
I know what I want but...
I don't know if I can

Too afraid to love
Too afraid to lose

I'm tired of women
I'm tired of the ups
I'm tired of the downs

I'm tired of using
I'm tired of being used

Conditioned motivation

Love is red...
Jealousy is green...
....Loneliness is a drag

Beautiful woman
Your kisses so fine
But I know you'll never be
Fully mine

I'm tired of love
and I'm tired of loss

Self deprecation is selfishness
Serotonin and cigarettes
I'm tired of women
Deep in the night
The riders mount their bikes
"Boys, let's ride"
Peddle peddle peddle
And we're off

Swerving in and out we roam
First to the Greens
We zip down, around
Meandering the urban sprawl

Johnny takes front
Our fearless leader
We crash through shortcuts
Bombing industrial hills

Look at us!
The kings of the streets
And ******

Hop the fence
The highway deserted
Fly down the exit ramp
Never stopping for air

The night riders
Suspended in time
Children forever
But only in our minds

I high five Johnny
I see the band aid
That which covers a mark
A mark from shooting up

He never had a chance like me
Minds altered
Body wasting away
My bike's wheel falters
I can't stay here...

I was a night rider once,
Just that once.
I fell in love with the hills
And the back paths

I could live one long night
Coasting down the long drops
Cutting through back alleys
Speeding through the sleeping city

But I know it is not my place
7 days until I grow up
Though the riders are young forever
I must move on

I pray for the night riders
On this long moon
Save their bodies, Lord.
Let them grow old with me.
The lurking parasite
He who creeps up
in a lukewarm haze

The one who puts grey tinted glasses
on the windows of a soul
Half filled boxes
of half empty cups

Floating at the bottom of a grave
which is lit by florescent

The deep dark secret
with no key
no lock
no contents inside
Becoming... hmmm...
what am I... becoming...
is this the enlightenment
of my trip? hmm...
journeying through the seasons
of inner time and place...
therein which lies... a space....
not that sort.... not the sort of the
spicky icky spacky... space...
it's the... hmmm... sleepy space...

I sit and wonder... this place is where I... ponder...
fabric... the fabric of this life...
... but that... that is only a character.. the outlook I assume in..certain moods...
that state of worry... that's what I mean.

I am the wind
the sea
speak friend,
speak to me.
'I see we meet again... hmmmm...'
The music keeps changing my moods, you see...
Subconscious... I must be more mindful...
'Increase mindfulness'
I must bring the feelings... out
don't shove them away...
don't shove me away...
on this normal
squashy day

Love your dark shadow love the wolves
streams of consciousness I must cut up all of these streams
I worry too much about the future... am I crazy? or just afraid of being...

Here's this concept that I have that represents all of these feelings that I have that I tell
to you and you receive as whatever feelings you associate with said concept
and hope they match up

I only write when I have something to preach... a sermon, you see..
yet I write every day...
to preach a sermon to me

'Does it make me bad?' this way I am?
does it make you.. mad?
mushy swampy bog filled mushrooms
I sag into the soppy plants in me
this world is my swamp
and this swamp is me
into the swampy swamp I romp
All day I ravage roam
I stomp
jive my vibe...

Exotic exodus execution
into the deep reeds
paddling the little cellophane canoe
Must... move...
Must... go...
Father Winter
Whispers in the Wind
He is coming

Down to us he journeys
From lands far gone
Pipe in mouth
Staff in hand

Is he the Greatest Wizard
In all the Land?

Stone faced
Cold embrace
Lumbering where the wind lies

But was that a twinkle
in his eye?
Little Sapling
sitting upright in the
Big Arm Chair
calm classical music
muffles the sedated voices
behind each door.

You sit
upright, improperly left alone
to fill such a Large Arm Chair.

You turn
your young face to the side,
staring with large eyes at
the toys adorning
The Corner Table.

The toys which you
once would have played with,
been engrossed with,
a few Long Sunny Days ago.

Yet today your innocent eyes merely
dabble with the sight of them;
the sight of a Long Sunny Day
which was once yours
to behold.
Next page