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Nicholas Foster Oct 2015
I crack the lock to the plastic box
that holds my broken soul

Much like pandora or a dark brown aura, it is lacking a true goal

But I search and search for a drive or thirst, to keep me wanting breathe

But I can't hold you, or escape the morning dew, so I only call for death

Save me please, from the promising breeze, that offers itself to me

*** I hate this life, I am filled with strife, and I need purpose desperately

As likely as this, an "I do" then a kiss, at my empty tender age

That's why I black out and drink, constantly on the brink, of showing my true rage

You'll cry and scream, like a memorable dream, in which you see gods face

He's filled with disgust, and like a bike chain with rust, hates our stagnant race

I call for hope, from the Buddha or pope, but no redemption will be given

I am destined to leave, on a day where some will greave, about the short life that hath been liveth

Oh this day will come, like the setting of the sun, and I will be free of shame

**** her and hate him, any future is grim, and there is only you to blame
i
Nicholas Foster Jul 2017
Candlelight dances on the wall of my room, it dances to the endless tune of my doom.

Wind breaks the silence that cuts me so deep, I am doused with sorrow from my head to my feet.

I used to feel comfort and rest the night through, but now I lay wake with dark thoughts of you.

I asked you to save me from the unknown of alone, but now I'm shaking alone on my throne.

My head, heavy, spins full of nonsense and greed, my heart is saturated with jealousy and reasons to bleed.

I begged for your pardon over again, it goes ungranted, I'm left rotting till then.
Nicholas Foster Jun 2016
I was conditioned by your conditioner
Cleansed over again by your tears
I wept over your likely casket
And prayed for the cessation of my years

I'm absent of anything pure
Left with an empty morale
Dead to the people around me
Perpetually perpetuating a scowl

I remember the promise of better
But I am shown that this fact is a lie
I know I'll sell myself short forever
Until my world is left without time

I thought that you'd be my salvation
But you're signing my contract with hell
Because nature is constantly snaping
And you're stealing my secrets to sell

Though I am worth nothing but all of my suffering
And even that is as cheap as the breeze
I know that the audience will be clapping
When I am consumed by the trees
Nicholas Foster Jun 2017
Death rolled in again, rippling waves in my calmed brain.
They said he almost made it to the door, but bled out on the kitchen floor.

I think of you, and him, and him, and the others who kissed the hand of whatever god.
They're not real anymore, but we're they Ever anyway.

The gold Lockett cracked, and the speaker blew out. The casket finally closed, the family guests walked out.

I push everyone away, so I don't see them die. The burdens too great, the risk of goodbye.

Alone for now, and alone forever, because every season ends, and I barley make it through December.

Every year repeats, the variables appear, "y" equals me and "X"isn't there

Don't cry for the song, cheer to remember. I'll see you in the summer, then I'll die in December
Nicholas Foster Sep 2015
To see, to see
The light in me
The light in thee
The light in we

Divine is fine
And to wine and dine
The clouded mind will set oneself a flea

Give way, give way
To the gallant day
The perfect ones pray and play as free

As foolish as this
The forest vines do twist
And will cause the trees to sway

For the whisk of mist
And algae consumed by fish
No doubt this is all there is

To bear witness
To what cannot be missed
Is but the holy state of bliss

The ****** are sacred
And that body naked
Evokes only that of truth

Because I see the sea
And it occurs to me
That God cannot be taken

So sing out loud
You project the cloud
You're ingenuity reeks

So go on shriek!
Do not head the holy speak
For Divinity echoes through your scowl
Nicholas Foster Feb 2016
Dread is what I feel when I force conversation to escape my lips

Dread is what I hear when I hear your voice, or any memory you narrate in my head

Dread is what I taste when I taste sugarless coffee, bitter and desolate, always how you liked it.

Dread is what I see, when my minds eye looks back into the nights I held you near. It's what I see, when I see your half dead eyes faking joy.

Dread is what I smell when I get into my car and smell a cigarette or a perfume that resembles yours.

My life is nothing but dread. Every night is a funeral and every morning a death.

But there's still Breathe, so most would say I'm alive. It's as if they forgot our nature and what it is to strive.

My senses shackle me to this cross, which faces a movie screen of terrors. I watch and cry, continually suffering with widows and beggars.

Shut it off, I wish I could, you see, but another fear that holds life dear, Will not set me free.

It's as if my brain holds my chain and dangles above the key. It won't let me out, with the painful doubt that I will cease to be.

But it doesn't add up, this is what I want?  An expensive life, a beautiful wife, something I can flaunt.

The hypocrisy, is like this democracy which binds us to despair.

You used to stand by and cover my eyes, give me a rest from the pain, but my wounded flesh and my horror cries left you with disdain.

So then you left, what did I expect? The world shackled you not, so I'll just remain up here, shackled with fear, watching this eternal plot.
#lost
Nicholas Foster Oct 2015
I approach the the tile as I watch you die again. I reach out for your neck to undo the damage done. Thus, I cannot. As I peak, I stab and stab at the iron coffin. I can't help you anymore, nor could I ever. I push and pull like the tides unending dance but you won't awake. I scream and I see the stars blink as if my voice reached them. "Wake the **** up, you selfish *******." I dig my nails into my chest like the roofing of a home. But like it will one day, I collapse. I see blood, and death, and Christmas. What an unforgiving world in which I dwell. I grab a belt and think and this is what will allow me to hang between life and death. Then I exhale a breath. I'm too bashful to knock on the Messiahs door. So I wash his feet and cry, waiting for the day I face you again. As the physical plane holds my empty  corpse and the people weap as if I've ever even lived
Nicholas Foster Mar 2016
I squander love
I fixate on the **** that I hate
And turned a blind eye to what I love

I remember every breathe inbetween each kiss I've shared with all of my lovers.
But only the sacred sense of scent can bring me back to the moments I drive out of my dense skull.

I lay upon a godly harness
That was constructed by my most hidden vices. It's the only place I can get some ******* rest.

In every moment of lonely darkness, the dogs that I've let loose bark and cower in my ear.  And I reflect, "if I don't shut this god forsaken machine off, it will run into collapse," so I pull the plug.

I stare into a mirror, and it shatters, the cracks spell guilt, and my eyes shout shame. I hear the way you yelled my name, and that day I watched the moon reveal to us the truth.

But, I throw it away, I throw it all away. My blood stained tears drop and land on every spot that you've touched. The world will remind me of my shortcomings and everytime formless love begged me to ******* stay.

And I know I would, if I thought that I truly believed I deserved it.
Nicholas Foster Jan 2016
Forget me, forget me.

Let me soar ,and shackle me not to this celestial pit

Let me be, let me be

Let me cast my long hidden shadow onto the moon, the stars and out further than andromeda

Let me ******, Let me ******

And for heavens sake not the four seasons

Because for every summer there is a winter

But freedom from this bind lies in astral interstellar hitchhiking

And let me sail but not to the community of hatred and hated

We will all be swingers when we lay down on El Dorados doormat


It 'reads "oh yes, free, freedom you've become"

So forget me, let me be free and ****** into the absences of cohesive atoms

If not held captive. The only sense is aroma and gone from nostalgic induced swooning

And there, oh there, I will vacuum la polvere di Stella that witnessed the most grandiose falterings
My inadequate attenpt at a Gimsberg style
Nicholas Foster Dec 2015
I miss the feeling of her spine like the mud misses its swine. Essential and right, rotten and ripe, the love boils over this melting ***.  I am lost, never to be found, I had a caretaker once but by my blood she was drowned.

I pick up soil and scoff, as if nature could get it right. How could it when it throws me through the unending plight. Empty does as empty is, like a broken string or an empty hymn, I listen for something true. But it is not there because life's unfair, and strips you of what you love.

But you'll never know if the world did null, what you thought you needed. Or was it your overbearing self, or the liquor on the top shelf that changed this love to fleeted.

It won't make sense, till you're gone from suspense and all the air escapes the dying lungs. I pray for this like an Angels kiss but no longer expect that mercy.
Nicholas Foster Jun 2016
No tables are left unturned
Every lesson lazily confirmed
But a shattered lock
Is the same as a winding clock
Both leave you needing air

Because there is no freedom here
From the battle I can't fear
So I mount the saddle
Upon her golden shadow
It takes me to your door

Where I plead my losing case
And with wine my bloods replaced
So I can hum the words
Sung by the nesting birds
They sing of you and I

Then I shutter at the touch
And I slip right through your clutch
But you'll return to him
And my broken limbs
Will entangle once again

But soon I'll be born a new
And my scowl will perform for you
You'll see the show
Though you already know
It ends with a hallow throne

The queen has fled the day
To be drown inside the bay
Where she'll meet her maker
The damnation of our Savior
Promises skies of grey

Just don't look up.
Nicholas Foster Sep 2015
I see black
As I back track to the top rack of my shelf labeled shame.

Who's to blame?
Me or you?
or the feeling painted blue?

I know it's true
That the insane game of pain and blame
Is the imagined fetish of thy brain

To entertain the mind
Darwin plagues the bind
Between you and the parent earth.

The fallacy of length and girth
Or the promised life from the church
Is anything but yellow

Beg again, for a long lost friend
To save you from a death by them

But, I bounce and pounce
on the splattered mouth
Of those who speak with lies

I lie to you, and I lie to me
With the broken hope that I will see

The naked light of brown and white
Or possibly end the constant plight
To construct verifiable breath

But I trust and trust
A fragile ******
will project me to the stars

And I am gone again
With a half dead pen
I write, to write what I can't think
Nicholas Foster Jul 2017
The nature of sentience. The desire for penance. Why does one behave?
From our first breath, were taught to reject, the things we always crave.

Day one: life pours into your senses and fills your consciousness like a cup, the clocks have finished being wound. Release. The game starts then. Beauty still runs rampant.

Dark becomes light, life become sight, you learn from all around. The water is warm, then a terrible storm, pulls you down to drown.

Day two: I learned what to love and who to trust very quick. It was taught to me. Like a formula on a blackboard. How to feel, what to want, what is okay to cherish. It never felt genuine.


In my home, I was always alone, love was a cracking whip.
A bottle full of pills, crushed up on windowsills, turned to a nasal drip.

Day three: I haven't seen my father, last I did, he told me what a disappointing life I'm living. Memories smell like fireball when he's in them. I still can't feel. Guilt extinguished my true passion long ago. Oneness replaced by numbness.

A spoon bottom turned black, burned by sizzling crack, fear took my life from me. I am amongst the dead, bound to my bed, i see no joy to be.

Day 4: I felt jealousy today, it festered in my chest. I longed for the warm and selfish friendships that are so abundant around me; I found something like it in the illicit. I learned to love the way 2 AM smells, and feels, like cleaning products.

Life will let you down, but wear that throned crown, because you are king of the known. What was, is no longer, death will make you stronger, but don't you die all alone.

It's harder that way. Stay to play, then let yourself drown
Nicholas Foster Aug 2016
Liquid thoughts flow blue and black
The stars shutter at a sight unseen
Infinite jest has run dry again
My teeth crackle down in every memorable dream.

I'm clenching and speechless
Blood trickles out
I'm lost with out reason
I'm left with out doubt

That I'll parish alone
Or rot in a tomb
Rising never again
Like a shadowless moon

My brothers are angry
My sisters are poor
My parents are absent
Birth happens no more.

My senses are dull
The factory's hell
I'm building a casket
Covered in braille.

It reads "here lies the hopeless
The emptiest man
The sounds have been drowned
My skin was left pale."
Nicholas Foster Sep 2015
The sun escapes the dying world
as the moon in which cradles my thoughts surfaces.
She brings concern to my eyes
which swells up and vanishes
Only to return with the rock that mocks me with its holy damning light. The only object in which I will accept unrelenting piercing judgement. Just as the tides, it pulls me close
and as I pursue her
the l​ackadaisical lunar light
takes form of an all too familiar mirror.
For at night clarity floods in as the returning of the tides.
I am aware, I am Infatuated
but most of all I am ridden with disgust.
The protection the rays of the sun deliver to my conscious
are only countered by the magnificent and malicious moon.
For the satire solar merely evaporates the truth
through the hours of his reign.
But as Apollo lays to rest
his gravity begins forcing meteorites ​to bombard my chest
and create celestial yet calamitous craters
After the deplorable metamorphosis concludes
I awake and grimace at my lunar transformation
My lunar reflection
Nicholas Foster Aug 2016
The windows to her soul are more like packed out group homes
Where young hope goes bitter as they wait for a frozen tv dinner

Dj's spin trap **** till the sun pours in,
Revealing all the tiring oil drenched skin
But the music will play tomorrow and douse our washed up ******* sorrow

This cycle will repeat and our fainting hearts cannot compete
For all those manic tapping feet
Will grow weak and happy faces will replete

The vital symmetry has died and mother mary still will cry
Till the balance beam is level and the dead become the rebels

Oh when the dead become the rebels
Nicholas Foster Sep 2015
Labor and labor,
Stay away from your neighbor
For they can teach you right

Grind and twist
While you stand and mix
The scattered world of spit and bricks

Gaya's dead
And we hang by a thread
Hoping for a hand

But the hand was there
And it seems unfair
Though we gnawed and chewed and scamed

Now we drink our wine
As we strip the grapevine
For more, and truth the same

But know you cannot fathom
The nature of the atom
So what do you know at all?

Though you claw and scream
On the freshly tiled stream
Hoping that you'll arrive

To the bodhi tree
Or the bodhi sea
Where Adam's apple derives

But mix and mix
That sweat and ****
For the nonexistent dollar

There, you'll search and search
In every book and church
At least you were a scholar


Though value has left
Upon the swollen scarlet chest
Of the robin that gave you all

So dance and bleed
Exhibit your greed
Knowing this is just a brawl

Until you cut the cord
Mount the cosmic surfboard
And land upon thyself

To live and love
What's below and above
A concept sly with stealth

But you'll work and work
As you barley lurk
Outside the stadium of "it"

Here, you will look with wonder
The cause of mans plunder
While you mix the bricks and spit
Nicholas Foster Sep 2016
While the sparrow flies, the angels cry
For the beauty of you and i
Our passion shouts, and envy pouts
Like peasants who cant get dry

Friends at first, turned to love that hurts
For hearts are heavy now
Because nature evaded, a love that never faded
Until our trembling lips allowed

Gods have been shaken, once you became taken, because this passion knows no bounds
The heavens fear, when our hearts are near
Because together our love cannot be drown

Once a lie, became hate denied
Now the fairy tales are true
You are the one, and like the setting sun
Our rise will always ensue

*** there is no limit, to our absent gimmick
This is real as pain
With lovely bones, worthy of thrones
We are as natural as the rain
Nicholas Foster Mar 2016
I've always known it to be true, that love was shackled and sentenced to death by monogamy, the wretched gavel-wielder.

The mind attaches "mine" to what you love.

All that comes to know you, fall victim to a double edged curse. One in which strikes them as it strike you, but there's nothing either can do.

I knew it was love when the idea of mine no longer lashed it's furious grips upon your godly vessel.

When you told me you loved me, in that moment, my knowledge of love was reborn. There was no longer love for her, or you, or him. It was just love in all its purity.

For every coffee I've let go cold, or every beer that racing thoughts have turned warm, another clue to the truth was unfolded.
The echo that barley reached my ear, it whispered "you are love"

I was made aware of my entrapped state, by adoring your freedom, and for the first time in my life, the ******* frost from my selfishness was warmed. Not by holding you close, but by watching you roam.

An agitated ego will strip love down to loathing, and like the sunrises you adore, you too will have to travel and see each sight, to be fulfilled and find your niche. Because spreading your presence, like the wings of the most lovely dove, can save even the most broken soul.

And I will finally feel joy, because I met love, and she was beautiful. Just like those overwritten novels promised. To trap you and scrutinize you like an item of interest would destroy the very essence that flicked on the light.

So in my arms, or passing over the tropic of Capricorn, I will rejoice. Because distance cannot destroy real love.

Until then, whether istening to you softly harmonizing to your favorite song, or feeling the energy eject from your pores as you watch the sun paint a mosaic just for you. I will die more and more.

But as we both **** ourselves for each other and a smile looking back at us, and a distraction from the rapture. We are love. And love will never cease.
Nicholas Foster Nov 2015
I hate the game though I play and play waiting to steal the queen

The flooded earth looks like afterbirth when I am awoken from my dream

A flower pedal is covered by twisted metal, this world has gone to ****

The  abysmal conditions caused by the crowded mission pushes me six feet deeper into this celestial pit

No sense heard, no sense made
I'm blind without a walking stick

Frustrated, disgusted,
I wait for death, if only it came quick
Nicholas Foster Sep 2015
I fear not, as I fear all
When my dwindling God pulls his prophetic strings
To believe or not to believe
I ask no more, these empty things

I breath him now, so there is no doubt that he nor I exist
To see as real and know it so
Is the ultimate deathly risk

Cynical or true, the sky is blue
And this cannot be fraud;
for God is that, skinny and fat
He sees the world through you

Begin the lie and your final cry
Will bring you nowhere else;
But the gates of Troy,
The hard-knock ploy
That is the doctors hands

They reach out as if to offer life,
They hand out fear and love and vain
But take out hope and implant lie
And the constant naw of blame

So take flight, run and you'll reach the show,
Where actors will play
Seem real as day
Whether brother, friend, or foe


till you fall once more,
all knowing is what you'll feel
Then back to the doctors hand,
Where you will return again,
A tragic gem
And break the womb and seal
Nicholas Foster May 2016
I rise only to suffer
I fall swiftly to my death
I land on my shattered ankles
And I can finally catch my breath

Because I'm running out of time
I'm roaming through the trenches
I bathe in the ancient ruins
And swing from the weakening branches

I plant the seed of resurrection
Wait the eternal bane
I seek internal affirmation
But swim in my tattered blame

Unhindered wonder sheds it's skin
And slithers out from my throat
I spark my final flame
But it's extinguished with my hope

The moon shouts it's loud psalms
Bringing light like Prometheus
I can't make out the words
But I'm crying out for new pieces

The sky is ****** with mist
The sun can only blind
I can't see the plagued salvation
All is clouded by mind
Nicholas Foster Apr 2016
Doubt pours out of the water spout,
which is connected to my face.
So I shut it off,
And like a tablecloth,
conceal my cluttered shame.

I leave my castle,
and with a tattered hassle,
I strike a lovely pose.
But a pose it is, and like a stifled hymn,
I shutter at empty prose.

As soon as I leave,
I cry and then grieve,
wishing I never departed.
I long for my bed, to rest my troubled head,
and get these lost thoughts charted.

Even that's a lie,
cause I wait to die,
caring not at all to think.
The narcotics I bleed,
flushed out by swirling steam,
carry me passed the brink.

But when I start to pass,
crossing the overpass,
I slam my brakes and beg.
Then life appeases,
my Id does what it pleases,
while I struggle standing on one leg.

After night approaches,
I ash my final roaches,
and slip into my home.
Is this incarceration,
disguised as a democratic nation?
The confusion manifests as a poem.

This is never eased,
and with a new disease,
my intellect is infected.
But, this growing doubt,
that clogs my water spout,
is despairingly reflected.

Though, answers dance around,
in their lovely gowns,
they leave when the music halts.
Then my cataract,
allows the mind to detach,
and hides the mirror and my faults.

But, this is not much relief,
because my chattering teeth,
remind me that the world is cold.
Reluctant to breath,
I role up my sleeves,
because the world is for the bold.
Nicholas Foster Apr 2016
And it begins.
The re-emergence off my sins.
The wolves tell me to walk their way.
The government tells me to walk it off.
But I stay where I am.

Swallow this, recite that.
I shout my worst nightmares as if they're fact.
I was taught to hate but learned to love.
From a broken soul, a wounded dove.
Pure was his name.

He flew away, like the elusive day.
I work hard, then harder I play.
I was told this was wrong,
To know only misery, like an empty song.
I knew the words before it echoed in my ears.

And don't you dare walk away
I know you want to flea into the clearest day.
But I can't afford this,
After you overtook me with your perfect kiss.
I won't make it a third time.

Like the mirrors and clocks
That have locked me in this box
I show you an image only the empty can stomach.
Though it weighs on me like horded tonnage.
But, the sun will set again.

Nothing will change.
I still play the game.

I lost, I'm lost.
Nicholas Foster Mar 2016
I know now. Redemption hangs in the balance between the fertile crescent and the great pyramids.
The Genesis and the deconstruction.
The dowsing of the flame and the re-combustion.

We're all promised what we won't find. That's why you build up hope and waste your time.
Your position as protagonist will have you looking for exceptions, but we're all just clay living in the third dimension.

Clocks twirl and sing to remind you to keep doing what you're doing, but you would anyway, so who are they fooling ?

They're just as useless as the dollar or the president, or the concept of rules to our residence. And you can't shake the feeling that removing yourself would be best.

Though you're probably right, because our stagnant plight is leading to the roots and dirt. (It's clear as day)
But no one can stomach this, frightened and ******, so with new ideals or meanings we will flirt.

Be free.
Nicholas Foster Mar 2017
I made my escape on that glorious day,
Seemed bleak at first but I made my way.
My suitcase was packed,
Riding the bus that would finally take me back.

Asking no one for favors, I embarked on this alone, yes, the ship sailed and the plane was flown.
To be far away from here, and all those near and dear, would grow to know loss like a common fear.

But my planet crashed, my ship sunk

I woke up.

Track marks scattered, floral robes tattered, Narcan kissed my vain, and became the pilot of that plane.

Oh to my dismay, in a room filled with fake smiles and "you're okay."
***** repair, blood pressure flair, on and on like a revolving door.

Ten thousand "sorry's", and a desperate party to see me sing and act.
With my IV leash, attached to a snarling beast, I gave them what they paid for.

So now I'm stuck where I started, wishing I departed, and made it all the way.
But I do how they do, and do what they say. Nothing is my own, not even the day.

My passion is gone, I exist without hope, I'm forced to breathe,and to shadow the pope.

You see, the pilot is to blame, he saved my body, but killed my heart with shame.

But I'll get my revenge, and I will live again, or save up for another ticket. But you will feel sorrow, for all of my gray tomorrow's pouring down from an endless spigot.

For you trapped me here, my exit was near, and freedom would have rang true. All that are dear, ridden with fear, and the one to blame is you.

Blame can run no where else, vindication sleeps in your bed, you played god and raised me from the dead.

You
made
me
live.

— The End —