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Apr 2021 · 316
Harpsichord Heart
lucidwaking Apr 2021
You play my heart like a harpsichord,
Making me feel things that
I never wanted to feel.

They say that you're a player,
But I'd have to disagree.
I have a sneaking suspicion that
You're actually a puppeteer,
Because I can't move my limbs
When you're not around.

C, c, d -
Clair de Lune in C minor.
Otherwise known as the sound of
The buffoon shedding tears.
When the moonlight comes, I ponder.
Only then, in that moment, do I doubt.

Are your glass eyes empty?
I thought for sure that they sparkled with light.
But even if that was my mind's reflection
I still want you.
I am open to critiques! Thanks
Apr 2021 · 1.5k
Plastic Rubies
lucidwaking Apr 2021
Brilliant cherry reds
Scattered like stars across the tile floor.
Their sheen is alluring -
A bright dollar store sparkle;
A candied shimmer to disguise triviality.

All it takes is a jagged nail
To scratch away the lie,
Thinly veiled by a coat of paint and acrylic.
"A person's true colors will always show in time,"
Or so the saying goes.

The deceit is lovely.
It carries an aromatic falsehood
With promises of

                          truth,

                                    gentleness,

                                                    and beauty,

All pretending to glimmer in your plastic ruby eyes.
I gladly welcome critiques. Thanks!
Apr 2021 · 715
Coffee
lucidwaking Apr 2021
Half asleep feet shuffle in aimlessly;
Water fills the celestial coffeepot.
Chocolate brown grounds by a spoon are allot.
A spoonful spills to the floor! This marks its tragedy.
Another, another, so painfully,
This tragedy would make any distraught.
How can sleep be torn from eyes so bloodshot
Without the black elixir so holy?

The sleepy feet walk through the garage door,
Each brooms' handle is long like cold harpoons.
It sweeps up the wasted dreams on the floor.
"I measured out my life in coffee spoons."1
The tedious toil begins once more,
And so go the morning coffee mistunes.


1 - From "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot
I gladly accept critiques. Thank you kindly!
Apr 2021 · 527
ghost
lucidwaking Apr 2021
do you ever feel like...
like you're ethereal, ghostly?
a fantasy existing in your own mind.
maybe the reason they don't see you is
because you're not real.


do you ever feel like...
like you walk alone in company?
flitting through dimensions,
enough in their world to exist
but wholly invisible within yours.


do you

do you ever wish

to be seen?
that someone would just
******* notice you for once?
I gladly welcome critiques. Thank you!
Apr 2021 · 1.5k
Frosted Glass Window
lucidwaking Apr 2021
Who are all of you?
What are you?
Am I human like you too?
If so, then why is there a pane of glass
Separating me from you?

I've been out here in the cold,
Looking in my whole life.
I once tried knocking on the glass;
Gently tapping with my fingertips -
ra-ta-tat-tat.
I think the music was playing too loud
For any of you to hear.

Just when I was ready to accept my fate:
Freeze to death and meet my maker -
She took my gloved hand in her own
So we could both look in together.
I gladly accept critiques. Thanks!
Apr 2021 · 2.1k
You used the semicolon wrong
lucidwaking Apr 2021
A flow, a pen, an ink stained palm.
A life, a story, all gone wrong.
A spark of hope in the night, maybe?
No, your hope is grammatically incorrect.

"This is where your sentence could have ended
but it didn't," see?
Nonetheless, it wants so desperately to end.
An incomplete thought, a fragment -
A fragmented existence with an expired due date.

Can you pick up the forlorn pieces?
Use your calloused fingers to avoid getting cut.
You continued the sentence,
But you used the semicolon wrong.
Apr 2021 · 492
May I be your angel?
lucidwaking Apr 2021
What do I have to do to be her?
Your god-sent angel,
Taking dainty steps down a golden staircase;
Descending from a city unknown to living men.
I'll have a paper sign stapled to my chest,
With narrow streams of blood down to my toes,
And words in pink marker scrawled across the paper:
"The One - Yours Truly, a False god."
Apr 2021 · 613
Tiny
lucidwaking Apr 2021
She thinks she's all grown up;
She walks in thinking that she's a full grown
Woman,
Turning her ankle to show off that tiny heel.

She overdrew her lips
Higher than the empire state.
Her tiny eyes dart down the aisles.
Do you really think you can sniff out
A hot stud at the local WalMart?

Her soul tricked itself,
Roaring like it's a lion.
She'd do anything to make herself forget
That she's only a tiny girl.

And there she stands,
Scanning a tiny bag of chips,
Then stealing a beer at the self-checkout.
What a grown up thing to do.
I welcome critques. Thanks!
lucidwaking Apr 2021
I took a drive on a manic day,
And turned the corner way too fast.
My actions caught up to me at last,
And I crashed my car on life choice lane.

So I stood there as the engine smoked,
And pondered on nonsensical things:
Such as how the caged bird still sings
Despite a shortage of dopamine.

Hallowed be thy name o' Lorde,
Somehow still playing through my radio.
Sound waves bounce against the pavement and echo,
Making the loneliness even louder.

I'm left to kick rocks on life choice lane.
There's a dent in the stop sign pole
For everyone who has paid the toll
Of dealing with my sorry ***.

But now they're gone,
And now I'm gone.
I welcome critiques. Thank you!

— The End —