- when will the rocket white noise end their sound
and all that got thrown up come crashing down
when will i get some sleep at night!
i beat my head to dull the noise just like i beat my wife-
******* dreams
******* dreams
the sound of the nose-pain bleeds
******* dreams
******* dreams
"shut the hell up girl, I'm trying to sleep!"-
watching memories
fading elegies
grey smoke drifting from throat capturing common greens,
floating entrance fees
shaken masterpiece
master of my home mastered by the firm grip of the enemy
demonic force chain to the pentagram imprinted on my shattered knees-
chain smoking crack to the rhythm of grandma's record sheets!
gun to my temple to help the war and his buddies flee-
when will my mind empty itself of me-
to try and stop the bleeding in my vessels
we wait for the pressure
our pounding bit of pressure-
you sit there doubtful
every smile's a lie
all you are is crumbling inside-
reaching for the cabinet doors
spinning- hoping that stopping will leave you cold on the floor
all the tile is still keeping you warm
going down is a pain, but with a happy reward
oh, the drugs never have a plan to restore-
-dad why'd you have to go
why'd you have to leave me here alone;
i know you watch me here below,
what will happen if i let this page close
-gunshot, blood stained escape way
through the lead through the head space trade
open wide for eyes to see through the hole made
dead daughter on the counter with eyes wide awake-
momma calling son
"useless waist of taken up space-
not worth the cost of my thoughts on your unseen face
disgraceful to me, wish you weren't my son
wish i went to med school and didn't sell out so young
should've never listened to your daddy's song
telling me to pack my bags and cuddle up in his arms - wrong!
never should've
could've could've
maybe i would've
maybe i will
maybe i am
i am
i am more than a woman attached to a man
more than a mom attached to a hand
more than a ring wrapped, a wedding band
more than cable, dishes, pots and pans
more than a ceremony anniversary plan-
i am
i am
i'm gone"-
son go waist away somewhere where my eyes don't have to be glued
to the scene as life takes yours away from you, leaving you dead and blue-
you're already dead to me, so go die somewhere out of my view
and bury your own body, i wont waste my money on that, i refuse.
-it seems as if my heart laid heavy with messages of missing families,
missing homes
missing hopes,
Christlike lovers with smiles on picture frames leaving holes
where they were meant to never leave, never left alone
yet moms walk out on families like this is the time to take a stand for what they own
yet dads think that they could get away with abusing their kids, maybe those bruises would never show
and maybe kids wont think much of living in two houses with two separate phones
two different schools, new friends, old friends, divided in somber tones-
"just do it for the kids, honey
they deserve more than me or you know
let's do what they all do
fake a smile
fake a frame
fake a while
fake our names
pictures on Christmas will still look the same"
"and once their gone?"
"we can burst into flames"
thinking that the kids don't notice
the long fights
the late lights
the long talks
the late walks
the long drives
the late lies
the bright screens
the loud screams
the doors slam
the house stamp
the long sobs
the long jobs
the moving boxes
the missing pictures
the blood on moms dress
the couch blankets
the magazines
the hidden lingerie
the missed calls
the bottles of wine in the back seat of the mini van
the adjusted seats
the drunken steps
the fake parents-
the fake lovers-
teach them about Jesus
"make sure to teach them about Jesus, ***
just as long as they don't see us
"hide the masks, they might not believe us, ***
tell them not to lie
tell them not to curse!
What's worse!
me saying a ***** word!
or hearing you say "i hate that stupid ***** then finding blood on her shirt!
make sure that you don't miss church!
because being perfect includes calling your kids worthless and letting every moment burn!
and we burn for this
too many drinks and dad becomes an alcoholic
watching me beaten trying to know the pounds and then call it,
betting with my brother on how long till i become black
falling on the wooden floors just after he breaks my back-
my dad was a pastor-
and how many more families will i watch fall apart
before someone gets a grip that you lose more than you are-
before someone figures that it's not worth all the pain,
not worth going days without seeing your daughter's face-
will we still love our sin
or will our families get more than the scraps from last nights affair-
-when will God be our source and not our self medicated needs
when will we stop being overcome by defeat-
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 1:03 AM UTC
- when will the rocket white noise end their sound
and all that got thrown up come crashing down
when will i get some sleep at night!
i beat my head to dull the noise just like i beat my wife-
******* dreams
******* dreams
the sound of the nose-pain bleeds
******* dreams
******* dreams
"shut the hell up girl, I'm trying to sleep!"-
watching memories
fading elegies
grey smoke drifting from throat capturing common greens,
floating entrance fees
shaken masterpiece
master of my home mastered by the firm grip of the enemy
demonic force chain to the pentagram imprinted on my shattered knees-
chain smoking crack to the rhythm of grandma's record sheets!
gun to my temple to help the war and his buddies flee-
when will my mind empty itself of me-
to try and stop the bleeding in my vessels
we wait for the pressure
our pounding bit of pressure-
you sit there doubtful
every smile's a lie
all you are is crumbling inside-
reaching for the cabinet doors
spinning- hoping that stopping will leave you cold on the floor
all the tile is still keeping you warm
going down is a pain, but with a happy reward
oh, the drugs never have a plan to restore-
-dad why'd you have to go
why'd you have to leave me here alone;
i know you watch me here below,
what will happen if i let this page close
-gunshot, blood stained escape way
through the lead through the head space trade
open wide for eyes to see through the hole made
dead daughter on the counter with eyes wide awake-
momma calling son
"useless waist of taken up space-
not worth the cost of my thoughts on your unseen face
disgraceful to me, wish you weren't my son
wish i went to med school and didn't sell out so young
should've never listened to your daddy's song
telling me to pack my bags and cuddle up in his arms - wrong!
never should've
could've could've
maybe i would've
maybe i will
maybe i am
i am
i am more than a woman attached to a man
more than a mom attached to a hand
more than a ring wrapped, a wedding band
more than cable, dishes, pots and pans
more than a ceremony anniversary plan-
i am
i am
i'm gone"-
son go waist away somewhere where my eyes don't have to be glued
to the scene as life takes yours away from you, leaving you dead and blue-
you're already dead to me, so go die somewhere out of my view
and bury your own body, i wont waste my money on that, i refuse.
-it seems as if my heart laid heavy with messages of missing families,
missing homes
missing hopes,
Christlike lovers with smiles on picture frames leaving holes
where they were meant to never leave, never left alone
yet moms walk out on families like this is the time to take a stand for what they own
yet dads think that they could get away with abusing their kids, maybe those bruises would never show
and maybe kids wont think much of living in two houses with two separate phones
two different schools, new friends, old friends, divided in somber tones-
"just do it for the kids, honey
they deserve more than me or you know
let's do what they all do
fake a smile
fake a frame
fake a while
fake our names
pictures on Christmas will still look the same"
"and once their gone?"
"we can burst into flames"
thinking that the kids don't notice
the long fights
the late lights
the long talks
the late walks
the long drives
the late lies
the bright screens
the loud screams
the doors slam
the house stamp
the long sobs
the long jobs
the moving boxes
the missing pictures
the blood on moms dress
the couch blankets
the magazines
the hidden lingerie
the missed calls
the bottles of wine in the back seat of the mini van
the adjusted seats
the drunken steps
the fake parents-
the fake lovers-
teach them about Jesus
"make sure to teach them about Jesus, ***
just as long as they don't see us
"hide the masks, they might not believe us, ***
tell them not to lie
tell them not to curse!
What's worse!
me saying a ***** word!
or hearing you say "i hate that stupid ***** then finding blood on her shirt!
make sure that you don't miss church!
because being perfect includes calling your kids worthless and letting every moment burn!
and we burn for this
too many drinks and dad becomes an alcoholic
watching me beaten trying to know the pounds and then call it,
betting with my brother on how long till i become black
falling on the wooden floors just after he breaks my back-
my dad was a pastor-
and how many more families will i watch fall apart
before someone gets a grip that you lose more than you are-
before someone figures that it's not worth all the pain,
not worth going days without seeing your daughter's face-
will we still love our sin
or will our families get more than the scraps from last nights affair-
-when will God be our source and not our self medicated needs
when will we stop being overcome by defeat-
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