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the black rose Nov 2019
he uses "nothing lasts forever" as excuse
to leave me secret,
incomplete
and seeking truth.
-
im left possessive,
and stranded..
drunk on poison,
empty handed,
begging for another hit,
another lick.
another "not quite, but close"
another spite,
another dose of what's stiff
and what fits perfectly like it was created just for me.
what's for me,
is for me.
the black rose Nov 2019
my spirit calls
and
my spirit speaks through writings on walls.
-
im still chained to third dimension,
it keeps me lowly.
im still caught up,
my attention is on all
that kills me slowly.
i thought that this was holy grounds,
now the grounds have divided.
somethings happening beneath the ground,
new stars have been ignited.
-
"ive never seen this much stars"...
i can say the very same.
the time is only here and now,
the earth has made her claim.
the black rose Nov 2019
i cant decide if where i am is healthy
or hell
in the sense of burning flames,
****** games
and all the names that come along with
particular things.
-
i cant decide if im in love with you or
with who ive painted you to be
in my latest piece of the lord and the lover.
im attached to the god in you,
distant from the parts of you that are learned and programmed
by the hands of destroyers of land,
the hue that keeps man in a color block that separates and desolates,
believe or not
im desperate for hands to hold
and a touch that knows when and where,
that wouldn't dare to let me linger for long...
-
the black rose Nov 2019
inconsistency is a close friend of mine.
we argue like husband and wife,
can we ever agree on anything?
we compete with mood swings and incomplete projects..
ill try to save the world
although i take way too long to make a decision,
procrastination holds me weak
and inconsistency is a close friend of mine..
the black rose Nov 2019
love is like..
too many different types.
too many different lefts.
too many different rights..
-
ive spent more time with my face stained on pillows and
my eyes in holes dug deep.
ive had connections with perceptions of who they claim to be devil,
devious ties to dangerous disguised as razors and knives
holding my wrists at gun point;
at some point ive died like a thousand times,
is this a sign?
the black rose Nov 2019
for years ive wondered where my spark went,
or how my dark can go from dark as 'night'
to bright
as light
& vice versa.
ive wondered why my poems had only rhythm and surface,
barely passion or purpose.
-
barely spoke,
barely wrote anything so everything stayed glued to my insides
and slowly ate away all sense of everything.
im reckless and
i move slow because ill make a mess of anything
close enough.
the black rose Nov 2019
ive tried to silence the violence by confiding in figures
and shadows that cared only for what made little to no common-sense at all.
ive tried to salvage my balance by breathing in and out,
choosing different routes,
using words of mouth &
switching paces,
running far away from faces that were all too familiar.
my family ties are all deeply rooted in the lies of who i swore to be &
its the sickest of humor how who i swore to be is nowhere close to who i am.
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