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Derek DM Jul 2019
Those minuscule moments of clarity and purpose
Fill my days with longing
To die knowing I can’t live there
Derek DM Apr 2018
I think I've reached that point
Where giving up and going on
Are both the same dead end to me
Are both the same old song

I think I've reached that point
Where every wish has come true
And tired disguised oblivion
Is everything I do

Please stop loving me
Please stop loving me
I am none of these things

I am none of these things
None of these things

I think I've reached that point
Where all the things you have to say
And hopes for something more from me
Are just games to pass the time away

Please stop loving me
Please stop loving me
I am none of these things

I am none of these things
I am none of these things

I think I've reached that point
Where every word that you write
Of every blood dark sea
And every soul black night
And every dream you dream me in
And every perfect free from sin
And burning eyes
And hearts on fire
Are just the same old song

Please stop loving me
Please stop loving me
I am none of these things
Why write at all when Robert Smith says it so perfectly?
Derek DM Apr 2018
Come
Show me your scars
Let me kiss them
with knowing
then add to them my own
For breathless screaming
Is the kindness in your heart
The release of your soul
The payment of your being

Where the whip **** alone
Into the whitened pillow
That is buried the center
Of your pleasure, and pain
Now markers of the honor
We pay to this reality
The golden broken core
of your hidden apple's
seeds now splayed.
Derek DM Dec 2017
The Front
A muddy black line
of demarcation
In the filled
treads of boots
Trudged through
the rain of your
tempers and
lost intentions
Now stuck between
making a peace
and fighting on
a losing battle
where holding
our arms
is the only
yet wrong
place to go
Nowhere to win
Nothing left to lose
Every day is a struggle.
Derek DM Nov 2017
Cocked
We point our bold fingers into shelves of our dangers and horridly
plow Through the triggers of now where we only can serve the the
greater number with nerve in old style blue steel in which nothing
can heal            only
take it                back
now I think they
are ready to
know that
the greater
the number
the quicker
the slumber
So sick of the violence
Derek DM Nov 2017
A green angry
bottle of ****
Nasty ogre of
endless remiss
In oozing
incountenance
Hammers in
breathy credence
Defy we they
Her that say so
And he that
cowers in every show
In so much greater
they number
The mess of my
horrid old lumber
Most definitely
Me
It's all that they
See

Despite from
this efforts
Being nice and
Laid comforts
An exhaustive
dumb repetoire
Of convulsive
nice quagmire
It is never enough
Just an affliction
of being
Damaging
Careening
A car on the ice
Another monsterous
device
In each day fro
And so it must end
There's no way to stop
never to mend.
My poetry has really gone to ****. It doesn't even matter.
Derek DM Oct 2017
we lay there on cotton
betwixt each limb of thread
woven covers of soft
Fibrous fingers touched
the light skin mellow
in window-diffused light
where spun yarns and yard
pull us down into the flats
along valley floors of arms
and legs crossed in hope
of feeling the lightness
bound by the pressure
of your breath on my cheek
Luxurious soft air
brushed by soft shuttle
atop my body and soul
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