Place your turmoil
Into a narrow, empty container,
Grab a lid and seal it shut,
Let it remain there indefinitely,
And then think nothing of it
As an amnesiac would do.

4/22/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Thee shall bleed
and seep through
the endless pitch black blanket
that will tuck in
the human race
in their beds tonight

There are two types of people
The heart breakers, and the broken-hearted
I cannot be the heart breaker
It pains  my body, as fear pulses through my veins
knowing i will be broken again
You ripped the muscle from my chest
And left a scar that bleeds each time
you kiss her, touch her, think of her
don't kiss me, don't touch me, and don't think of me
It aches and aches
Why have i let you break me?
There are two types of people
heart breakers, and the heartbroken
how can you destroy me by loving her?
How can you break me and remain unshattered?
Why can i never be the breaker
Ripping the souls form others chests
Turning their advances into worthlessness
turning their love into loathing
turning their hearts to stone
like you did mine.

waves of pain
crash against my skull
with each collision shaking my insides
and every thundering bolt
pushing me closer and closer
to grabbing the forty-five
in a desperate attempt to stop
my head from shaking and screaming
to be set free
breathe in, breathe out
to a cold barrel against my temple
pull the trigger, count to three
we were "so nearly free."

Am human who has fallen
This world is too big
my thoughts vanquished

Am too small
always deluded with it's little things
am chained as an admirer
forced to hang myself with it's excitements
and  enchanted into slavery

My heart 'spoke' it's truth
silently,but my actions remain dreadful
the deaf calls to my ancestors
bore no fruit.
Maybe I don't have a guardian angel.

I seek engagement in it's small
pleasures
and i  pay with my sanity
Still choking on the weight of my
existence
I woke up and swore never again
but am just a lung full of smoke gasping for more air

You. You were
never better than when
you
wore that cologne
that smelled like Havana nights and
fresh cinnamon spice.
Your
scent keeps haunting me through
days and nights.

What is it
about sensory types
of
memories? I
can't shake you from my five senses
no matter how
hard
I've tried. Will you forget
about mine?