Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Eh?
Not a could in the sky.
Oh why, oh why.
I am as blue as
the sky?
Oh why, oh why.
Is the there no
reason to feel this way?

Must be something deep,
deep in self pity.
Must be something in this world,
Full of self pity.
Or just emptiness is the life
of this city.

Stuck in the patterns
of the day.
Don't stray, don't stray.
Chewing on another broccoli day.
Don't stray, don't stray
It must mean something,
for us to feel this way.

Towns mean frowns.
Pounds mean sighs.
People are just mean.
Hands are stained.
Minds are clean.

I guess life
is meant to be
such a bind.

Stuck in the patterns
of the day.
Don't stray, don't stray.
Chewing on another broccoli day.
Don't stray, don't stray
It must mean something,
for us to feel this way.
We bare each other's brunt
and weight.
Was this our hormones
or a game of fate?
The moon a ****** on
our heated moment.
For that passing passion,
we were the prey in
each others hunt.
Familiar through the night,
but strangers at the
break of day.
You know, I'm not really blue.
but I can't, just can't.
shake this not really blue.
When; i just.
take that shot,
that shot.
that shot of you.

The perfect Polaroid
image.
A dream of my imperfect
desire of you.
That deep hot
un-blue hue.
That makes me sweat,
sweat over you.
Makes me turn red hot blue.

You know, I'm not really blue.
but I can't, just can't.
shake this not really blue.
When; i just.
take that shot,
that shot.
that shot of you.
Shhh, don't tell anyone.
But,I'm not really here.
These aren't my words no, no.
Everything is a total no-show.

I'm only what I seem,
when I am not seen.
A shadow in the darkness,
in days of dis-ease.

Shhh, you're not you.
You never really were.
These words are not for you.
Just born from the void you grew.
Something like a tear,
but unseen.
Runs out between;
our space.
Tracing the clouds
from our silver lining.
To a feeling that
is in need of defining.
I wish to write
before feeling takes
flight.
But I fear it will
be a love song.
As if the world needs
another one of those.

Ruining out of ways
to say the same things
in my prose.
Trying to be dry.
But getting the
words out;
has me on tiptoes.

Sweating words;
pores full of metaphor.
not knowing if I
even make sense anymore.
It's not deception,
but it, I cannot believe.
These truths transmitting,
time permitting,
will crush me flat.
I'm not sure what to think,
in the fact's bull-rush.

Screaming out.
Damming it to be,
cardboard scenery.
In sincere
secrecy.

With a dash of nothing,
spicing the world.
Give me a kiss; no,
give me a twirl.
Splicing the word-weary
and thought-Leery.
Such fresh *******.

Screaming out.
Damming it to be,
cardboard scenery.
In sincere
secrecy.
Next page