The man sat on the edge of his bed
Staring blankly into the distance
An empty bottle shattered somewhere on the floor
Cigarette slowly burning between his lips
He hasn't shaved for days; he doesn't care anymore
Sweatpants and faded t-shirts
Too much coffee , not enough sleep
In his hand a six shot revolver
In his hand, the only chance to be free

Where shall we traverse tonight
To the cemetery of shadows
Or silky moonbeams high

To what lands mystical dreams
Shall we sojourn
On a fiery comets tail fly
To the sad lonely mountains
Or the jagged lightening filled skies

Oh secret dreams
When the moon turns red
Returning from our travels
Find my body alive or dead

Oh pale dreams



This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby

I prefer not to feel
It feels a hell of a lot better than being sad
I prefer numb
I prefer the silence so loud that it burns through my ears
I enjoy the nothing breathing deeper than the ocean
I'd rather feel nothing than feel that feeling of almost empty in the bottom of my stomach
I hate the twists and turns of my heart
I hate the way my gut drops when you say you love me
Because I know it isn't real and it never was
There are so many lost relationships because of my issues with trust
I don't know why but feelings just get in my way
So when you say you feel something there
Please don't be angry when I say that I do not
Please understand when I avoid the question
It's not your fault
I just do not have the answer you're looking for
I would rather say nothing
Feel nothing
**Be nothing

I come from
Bleeding gums
Skinny arms
And ketchup smothered chicken
From dyed blue hair
And chipped black nail polish
From
"There’s no use crying over spilt milk"
And
"You’re not the first person to fail history"
I come from
Cracked bathtubs
Cracked skulls
Crooked teeth
Oversized sweaters
Overly sweetened tea
From diabetes
Breast cancer
And depression
I come from black heads
And pimples
Frizzy hair
Half filled journals
Half empty coffee cups
Purple lipstick
Scars from dropping the oven mitt
Seared flesh on wrists
I come from
Cigarette smoke curling under summer skies
From fake fire places
Freshly baked cookies
Poetry in the form of blood cells
From mental hospital stays
From blinding headaches
That vibrate through teeth
I come from
Pentacle necklaces
And pearl bracelets
Apple perfume
New York City visits
I come from
Trees
And grass
And flowers
I come from the beach
From salty air
And sandy toes
I come from everywhere
And I’m going nowhere