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Jun 2019 · 121
Love Letter In The Cold
Paul Donnell Jun 2019
Hello again, of course, I miss you dearly. The weather at the corners of the world looks bleak and without reprieve. Nothing would warm these cold bones more than you, wrapped up in my arms. I fear I will not make it to summer and of course this letter I write to you wont even make it out of this humble shack I've built as the Snow has me barricaded in. I can't even leave to so much as hunt for my next meal. Writing to you is all that keeps me sane. Maybe one day someone will find this letter along with all the others. It's possible I suppose.
This foolish man is still very much in love with you. As my body turns to dust I hope by then you've found someone else to love. Someone you can grow old with and watch the stars burn out. I fear this is all I have left.
I won't make it till the morning.
I love you forever,
Stephen Spice *

How can I go on, my dreams are dead.
The reaper beats the gong.
Upon his wings old and cold.
Upon his scythe, slick with soul.
I know he comes for me this day.
I am finally going home.
Jun 2019 · 72
Nonsense speaks to me
Paul Donnell Jun 2019
A black Cadillac bad day
No shoe shine
No pomade'

Hangin with with the phreaks on Ellis and 3rd
I scan the eyes and wait for the word

The word is WOWZA

Dichotomy in motion, nonsense on the wind.
Caravan buffouts carrying back the crystal whompas from The reeking underbelly of this dry heaving city

Whompas for me if you please, now my no shine shoes skitter down streets looking for a place of sweet reprieve.

WOah boy now just wait, the bubbling fountains speak fractals in tune with, i think that bird on the ledge.


I scream,
and then it does, so gracefully down below landing impossibly gently upon its impossibly delicate toes.

Good things birds can fly. Wouldn't last long otherwise.
Oct 2018 · 104
Untitled 479
Paul Donnell Oct 2018
I was like an angel fallen out of the sky,
Hungry for bread but only searching for wine,
And just like a needle phasing through skin,
I showed you the light and then drowned you in sin.

I am a pile of limbs and dog bones,
chewed on and hallow
I cry for my marrow
Out lost in the yarrow,
I'm sorry I'm here and not home.
Apr 2018 · 138
Paul Donnell Apr 2018
I am in love with something that can never really be met.
Shes always standing just where the horizon falls into forever. Riding the sun solemnly down and then laughing as she rises with the moon.

She tourtures me in every idle moment. Calling my name and whispering promises of all the wonderous things hidden underneath silk and paper maps

A moth to a flame, I am burned and turned to ash and the Gods have seen fit that i am ressurected everytime and everytime i am filled with greater passion for her.

She has led me across grassy hills that morph in the breeze, unfocusing my eyes and showing me dreams.
through caves and cold creeks, long highways and longer nights.
Paul Donnell Mar 2018
your name appears in so many places that there is no denying the significance of you.
coincendence and sequcenalities be ******.

you are there and here and there again.

It must not be the same for you, as my name is not so common.
Perhaps rolling by the in credits of B rated movies or heard amongst an ornery crowd.

Yet you know as well as I, the crows carry my name on their breast and call.
They know me as well as the wing takes flight...

knife edge white upon the canvas of black night the moon gossips with the stars.
she whispers things in the early hours that only dreams can decipher,
and so
you are there as well.

inexorably tangled in this web weaved by gods...

have you cursed me?

I wonder if I have cursed you.

a dark and desperate part of me hopes so.
But secretly I do
Mar 2018 · 374
Black hat crow
Paul Donnell Mar 2018
The Black Hat Crow, sittin on his throne
Countin all the money that he owns
Collectin pretty bits on his dark wing
He made a fortune on lifitn things

He got a suit like oil, he got wicked eyes
He got a voice like deaths hangin on his side
He got one eye on heaven, and two feet in hell
They say he stole those wings from micheal himself.

You better hide your money its a new moon tonight
The black hat crow hes takin flight
Your wallets
Your purses
Your shinest things
It all belongs
To the black hat crow

The beggars all know him as a givin man
He cross they path he puts a coin in they hand
A little information is all he needs
Like, where ya been and where ya sleep
The coppers cant get him, hes ten steps ahead
He got eyes and ears all over this land

God forbid you ever witness this
the black hat crow got a red right hand

You better hide your money
Its a new moon tonight
The black hat crow hes takin flight
Your baubles your heirlooms
Your shinest things
It all belongs
To the black hat crow
Song lyrics
Jan 2018 · 371
A moment in an empty room
Paul Donnell Jan 2018
at a table i sit
in an empty room

the ambient hum of myself in silence settles around as the smoke from my marlboro swirls around my fingers

fingers that ache for the impossible

the weight of my posture says more than all of tchaikovsky's musings...

as i consummate myself and dread with whiskey saved for a time just like this
shadows spin and dance and i become entranced with the spell i cast

soon the silence breaks and heaves as whiskey magic brushes a soft hand upon my cheek and fills the room with vibrant perfume

my fingers ache for the impossible

i break myself upon regret

i blink away the spell till i can see...

the ambient hum of myself in silence settles around as the cherry on my marlboro dies in the ashtray

just a moment
in an empty room
If all i can write about is you
than i'll write about you
until you are nothing but words
scratched into paper
Jan 2018 · 181
Brain mush yes again
Paul Donnell Jan 2018
Mandala ******
Bird brain herder
Pack of wild wolves
Owls without.
Grit teeth say please.
Sea of folks different strokes
Non of genious
And certaintly not I
Mind is feeling weak
Strap boots to feet
Got em brand new,
Brunswick stew
Over Converse☆ conversation.
Grossly mass produced.
I hate you.
Thats my good pen.
Bought not found.
I like the way it writes
Hate the way I do.
**** me, love you.
Jan 2018 · 300
Cant you hear me?
Paul Donnell Jan 2018
It was supposed to be listned to loud but i could not get loud enough
Seasonal pain seasonal change
My guts feel like marbles and tantrums
Its gonna be with ya the rest of your life and anything ya do soured by random access memories chunking down in the deep down deep things listen deep things scream it was supposed to be loud but i could never get loud enough
Seasonal pain, seasonal change
Dread, 2018, age of trumpets judgement jumping to concussions brick red smoke black starts at the fingers then shakes at the knees fire inside the call was supposed to be loud but i could never be loud enough
Seasonal pain, seasonal change
Shot to ****, slow cooked peppered preped and sold, lies stack trust me ******* trust me catastrophe careening on buses across the country destiny will bury me i shoulda cried louder but its never loud enough
Seasonal pain, seasonal change.

Whats it matter any way.
Help me
Jan 2018 · 147
Paul Donnell Jan 2018
My heart is just paper mache, silver strings and georgia clay
A mass that drips and sings sad sad songs

You plucked the strings now out of tune
You said said goodbye we're done its through
So I left it on the tracks and walked away

It gave me wings and clipped them too
the feathers fall and fly to you
Jealous of the bits that float away

And the birdies say hey
gonna peck out your brains
You stupid ******* whatd you think

The crows they ate and now they know, my heart lies hidden and over grown
Maybe theyll take flight and eat that too

My gut it has some words for you but misery will follow suit
Something wicked always comes this way

It hit me like artillery from far away my ears still ring cant find escape in sleep its my dreams

And the birdies say hey gonna peck out your brains, you stupid ******* whatd you think

I break down put it on repeate cross the country break my feet always walking walking walking pain

While the sky was blue I thought of you
Sky turns red and the sun is dead
Skys now black and the moon it laughs

im just wax and Ice alive, candles melt but i survive
**** man,is all I do

But i am strong, or so im told
Not strong enough to face the feelings that i hold
I hold inside
Please hold my hand
I think i need help
Lettin go of the ******

My heart is just paper mache, silver strings and georgia clay
Lost it on the tracks
Not sure its ever comin back.

And the birdies say hey, gonna peck out your brains, you stupid ******* what you think?
This hurts
Jan 2018 · 168
Paul Donnell Jan 2018
Sometimes I try too hard,
Sometimes I get confused,
But I pack my bags and I hit the road,
Im a bird with leather shoes.

Well I know my magic spells
And the cards they tell me well,
They tell me I'll have wings to fly
On the winds that I do find.

These birds will know my name,
As my wanderlust remains,
I follow crows as they do know
Where treasures lie and wait

These roads are very long
And the rivers are so wide
But ill cross them too and ill see you
in the moments i pass on by

so if you miss me while im gone
Remember this old song
Look towards the moon im looking
My light it will find you
Jan 2018 · 84
Choked up
Paul Donnell Jan 2018
Choked on chicken bones with a throat made of paper.
Rigamorits already in my joints but mostly in my jaw
A diaphram full of marbles that causes shaking at the knees.
Mostly im just scared to speak
Shut up
Jan 2018 · 104
Paul Donnell Jan 2018
Fissure fissure flippant ****** forcing a shedding of skin
chitinous mass decays in grass
panic manic hindsight batters shatters
teeth cracks crosses
blind in three eyes senses fail burning up and eating air
non conducive heart elusive
ego wagon broke and passive
trails here trails there
float on to anywhere. What else.
But not really
Jan 2018 · 94
Paul Donnell Jan 2018
Hook me in the mouth.
The feather of a friend, lost over the
Deep down in the deep down, torn against the coral and then
Washed ashore.
Waves like waves, wind like winds,
if its all the same to you
it feels the same to me.
A battering along the coast,
ceaseless and inescapable.
Jan 2018 · 108
The dead doe
Paul Donnell Jan 2018
I watched the eyes of a creme colored doe as the light left in ribbions that lifted the air and revealed the gods underneath. The blood mixed with the earth, her scent with the air and the cycle was complete...

Ribbions cascade around us all.
Nov 2017 · 115
What a night
Paul Donnell Nov 2017
My amaranth heart cracked and crumbled.

A creme brulee between your sheets.

And in the morning, laying in the after math,
The damage well and done...

*Id never feel that weightless again.
Nov 2017 · 135
Paul Donnell Nov 2017
Your rickshaw riptide truths felt real and dangerous. Cracked my fragile creme brulee mind.
And oh how you enjoyed your sweets.
Oct 2017 · 136
Paul Donnell Oct 2017
I am a messenger,  a soft wing upon a glowing silver night. Within dreams I walk, bare feet upon rocks and moss, crystal citadels rise from subconcious seas, beautiful and titantic, refelctcions of the child, wonder and tall tales.
On star dust pillars i dance with fevor sweeping a psychedelic array of color with every intuitive step.
I drink tempests from teacups, swallow whole storms of tropical tenacity.
I meet with wizards place to place,  gather stories songs and bitter sweet good byes.
I am a messenger of no importance. Impotent against the tides yet powerful when I let go and ride.
Oct 2017 · 247
Paul Donnell Oct 2017
With the autumn leaves you can hear the determination in my steps
The delusional majesty of walking.
I saw some things.
Makes my fingers sing

I am one fourth six string
Another part poetry

i walk on with my rational in tow
Tries to stop me but i got that birdy brain
Imagination caged
Yeah i saw some things.

The sweepin romance of roads and rigamorits
Death met with the moon shining silver blaring trumpets
Semi trucks, hitch hike with a wallet full of nothin

Catapult me courageously to the crystal canary carriers
song holders on winds to the wild west

Ill sing of you, memory in memorial
Ya magic casters of heart string ballads
Ill leave songs plastered in the trees of long hauls across the arteries of states ive seen
I felt some things

If i knew what i was on about structure would come easily but as my feet wander my head follows suit. Structure cant shake hands with wonder.
Oct 2017 · 229
Mountain lights
Paul Donnell Oct 2017
Upon a distant mountain,
My head was swept away
By the river of light, floating in the constant cosmic ocean.
My head was swept away,
Back to that magnanimous moment.

A star plucked from the sky and placed in my palm.
Gifted by bright eyes; an earnest lover of life.

The magnitude of it brighter than any moon,
Its fire sank into my skin, spun new fate and sparked the beginning of new friends.

Little caravan birdies, bright songs and struggles. A spectrum of what the best we folk here have to offer and often they surprise me still.

Laughter that could shake the darkest of nights with a vibrancy that could only be described in mushroom trips.
Magic casters with bags of tricks to flick phosphor fire into the eyes of brutal grey matter spooks,
The ones that hide in pillows and in lonely ciggarettes.

Family made from bottles of wine, borrowed feathers; boundless flight.

Lovey wonders, starlight disguised as us,
Ribbions of stellar dust.

When I gaze into the creases of my palm,
I still feel its warmth, still see their light,
Forever grateful for the star plucked,
From that magnanimous night.

I just ****** love my friends.
Oct 2017 · 208
I am
Paul Donnell Oct 2017
If trees could talk theyd tell stories.
Of a moon mad boy that travels between the seams.
A guitar motor.
A love punch horror.
A love **** taker,
The holy rock maker.
Crashing gates
takes the face
from bark.
Stoic as the trees
sonic as the sound
crazy loon lashing
dance around.

Heard a voice
One with the birds
birdy brain feather
emergancy of words

Killer killer
the liqour drinker

the little libra
The sinatra fevor

The apple eater
stream water drinker

the hopefull hopeless
Cautious curious

bring it back

the fat cat

the heart beat speaker
detuned reaper

an desperate dreamer of romamce roads and rigamorits

Carolina fire flies
tenneses weeping walls
arkansas arkane maw

The dandy dandalion
Photosynthesis the good times.

The photo prisim
The self made prison
The wall written upon
the wall dashed upon
friends family lovers understood
break down rebound
Some new coast bound.

Nothing but words,
And one with the birds..
Oct 2017 · 153
I am bloody
Paul Donnell Oct 2017
From start to finish i am ******
eyes red capillaries broken
can you break me
you berate me
thos second self that speaks in solar winds
blasting apart my ******* head
I blink
the star dust mixed with red
you follow me to bed
whiskey cant silience
Bright lights blink twice for no
shut up
i want to be alone
Oct 2017 · 184
Gate crasher
Paul Donnell Oct 2017
I crashed the gates of heaven
My guts on silk and linen
I am an astronaut
Oct 2017 · 217
Here again
Paul Donnell Oct 2017
Im cradling my phantom heart
a phantom pain that flutters with writing art.
Im crashing on a wild wind
might cross the country on a whim.
Going crazy where is my head
******* its lost again
Out at sea the water swells
salt in my eyes i scream i yell

Its all internal.
Im a statue in a park
watching it all transgress.


I let it get the best of me.
Sep 2017 · 158
Anchored Tight
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
I got my boots laced up tight and i guess that means i got somewhere to go,
But im nailed to the wall.
Legs bounce and dance eager to get it on but i cant rip myself from this frame.

I decorate this place every weekend a peice of modren art, weird,
Whats it mean to you

The whiskey glazed sunrise hit my bleary eyes and water poured from my face and i tried desperatly to keep it from watering my roots, i dont want to be anchored to this room
I want to float.

Cirrus clouds above could hold my damaged head and the albatross criss cross contrails and sing just for me i might finally sleep.

But i tap my feet, three times, close my eyes and im still here. Mouths motion mourning and id decipher the damage but my codex is broken, the language spoken is one unfamiliar and the toll for imagining somethings wrong is something finally is.

If i said everything's fine could you pick up on that lie?
Maybe drop me a line, static in my ears cotton in my lungs yes im on the porch contimplating bugs.

If i dont make sense its because i just dont.
Its simple,
I might be manic corrosive, eating litmus paper and dreading christmas.
I wish i knew what the **** i was talking about
Sep 2017 · 127
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
There is no point
In holding onto hope.
You just
Maybe you are cast away,
Riding on the notes of of a piano
That drift into the empty lobby.
Where the carpet reminds you of your first apartment.

Maybe sometimes its all nonsense that fills your mouth and hoodwinks the special moments that shouldve felt like a rising sun after hours sitting in the cold. Thinking of revalations.

Maybe this cigarrette tastes like nihilism and the smoke looks like you feel.

Maybe your fingers are burning with lust of creation but the rest of you cant catch up.

Maybe you swallow and shift in your seat trying to peice together the exact moment that you couldnt stand waking up anymore. Maybe this nothing just isnt enough and you need more because the ciggarets stopped working a month ago and everytime you see yourself in the mirror its a shade of blue youve never seen before. And maybe in the shower with your head pressed agaisnt the tile you wonder how well the water would mix with your blood and how long the curtains could hide the scene.

Maybe when you look at the stars it doesnt look like forever but feels like a box with little pinholes poked in the top so you can get just enough air. Maybe your chest collapses trying to figure out how to breath again and maybe nothing helps and it all tastes like ash and maybe you punch the ground, ****** your knuckles and look at the damage with a strange curious numbness wonder what just happened.

Maybe tomorrow...

Maybe not.
..I dont feel well
Sep 2017 · 166
Awkward Star Man
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
I went to the edge I came from the center
wanted to broaden my perceptions
but i came tumblin down
I crashed in a grove
the faires ran from the alien
told stories of a star man

Every word I spoke floated up above
traveled in the leaves never heard by anything
I put together a story that I wanna tell
move my hands and the gnomes start to yell
fear in their eyes as I tell em I love em
I'm always lost in translation
they ran from the alien
told stories of a star man

I donned a cloak made of willow and marsh
tried bein a ghost if im already scary
maybe some one will take pity
im wordless im airy.

Alone and self centered awkward and cratered
the cliffs to high
I shouldn't be here.
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
In his tower of fish bone and stench
the sea called and the sea wept
He looked upon the promise of chance

A ribcage still with breath
the bird inside whiskey wet
callin out to the sea
"ohhh why can't you love me"

The moon it rose the tide did too
he unhitched the drift wood canoe
and the current stole all uncertainty

he rowed on, lost sight of shore
surrounded by what he adored  
water still; he feels complete
his birdie sang it's masterpiece.

He broke his ribs and let it fly,
"no need for that when i've got whats mine"
he watched his heart catch a westward breeze.

The king of bones, bleached by the sun
stepped out his boat immersed in love
his soul transfixed upon her depth
he looked down deep and held his breath

Ohhh he never saw it coming

The storm came and sent him down
her leviathans ate his crown
***** picked and scraped what laid at bottom

Swept away and drowning now
Grabbed for his bird and tried to howl
his fingers met the broken ribs
"how could I have fallen for this?"

Ohh a jawbone fit for a crown
The king of bones, the ocean drowns

her relentless undertow
dragged him to the shore he knows
smashed against the rocks, cracked and broken

ohh a jawbone fit for a crown
The king of bones, the ocean drowns.

So now he walks filled with pain
his birdie drowned in the hurricane
oh he was left wonderin, what coulda been.

ohh a jawbone fir for a crown
the king of bones the ocean drowns..
Sep 2017 · 145
I walk a lot
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
Whats the point now?

When I get the falling down,
The sky follows suit.

I grew feathers and gravity flipped a *****.
The moon rose in a sick sewer fog,
Orange and,

I touched her,
silver strings followed my fingers and played me a song.

What I mean to say is.

I opened my door and never looked back. The heart I left still beats in time upon rail road tracks thick with tar and I still feel the vibrations from here.
Two thousand seven hundred miles and suddenly I'm stretched between mountains beech trees and limestone caverns. I remember a girl with fire hair and a bus to match and I fell in love but remembered I left my heart so I left her to. Upon a bike I rode a wave a gust of air from passing pastures at mach speeds.
So I traveled more and left behind even more than that and flung myself down an arkane maw rode a boat never looked at time.
So when I get the falling down..
I grow feathers and gravity flips a *****.
Like a moth I bounce off neon light to neon light without realizing im really looking for the moon but the doors that are open promise good times pretty faces and *****.

But I get out there,
Out there in the great beyond and scatter myself into the stars and talk to each little one. and the moon watches and stays amused at her little creation laying in Gaias hair just trying to understand and grab something that makes sense and I'm almost there.

Naked in a field
drunk on a tower
sweating in sheets
and gravity flips a *****
and I slip out and I never look back.
What I mean to say is..

I walk a lot.
Sep 2017 · 204
The porch again
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
This song reminds me of all the fuzzy day dreams.
I'm obsessed with the memories,
Crystals and some christmas lights to your porch upon my bike.
The short hand soliloquy,

"Do you remember me?"

Like it'd ****** matter
the memories are battered
left upon the floor for me
the flowers wilt and birdies scream.

I listen to the moon she always speaks of you
craters on her perfect face foreshadow bombshells placed.

left alone and once again patching up my damaged head with traveling and alcohol...
cigarettes and crystal *****

Shock wave freeze frame
**** the part that eats my brain
under the sun I
late night short circuit stacking consecutive syllables
song shift
air lift
check box claim one,
when can I
share love.
Sep 2017 · 144
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
when I feel the twitch in my dominate hand
I know that it calls for my favorite pen
it vibrates my head and a storm starts to churn
and memories resurface and I start to burn

so I start to write to get it all out

but that leads to rage and rage leads to rain

rain leads to feeling like I'm all alone
alone starts to feel like this might be my home
but Home never was something solid and true
and of course that thought will just lead back to you
So I walk something like two thousand miles
I cover my tracks and hide all my trials

I think I died somewhere out there
so I grew a new face and my clothes they would tear

Now I click and I pop in my posthumous walk
I struggle to breath as I struggle to talk
Yes somethings shifted but the twitch it is gone
and I think I'm just searching for where I belong..
Sep 2017 · 151
Self introduction
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
Im terrified of COPD
But still smoke ciggarettes like a well used chimney
Soot building up the ashes unswept
Making it to 60, probably not a safe bet.
Drinking at altitude to catch me a better buzz
Fly fish for escape from grey matter fuzz.
If everything i built came tumbling down id stand on the rubble, three feet taller and proud.
Im better at descruction self disgused as help
A parking garage where a coffee shop stood, this is progress I yell.
This is self induced stolkhome im over exposed. The apture is broken light is burning my bones.
So Paint a picture with my ashes gradients of grey
Reimagine what i am instead seeing the self hate,
And ill thank you. For all the help and the memories
But nothings really changed and ill burn the photographs and ask

Remember these?
Sep 2017 · 224
Winter fell
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
If it was autumn forever the ribbions tied to the banister of your porch would still be dancing on a vibrant breeze. And in the door step stair well where i left mumbling ghosts of uncerctainty, they might still wail at three a.m. when the cool night air cast me to your warmth.

But winter came and inbetween the microcosom fabric of those ribbions ice crystals grew and shattered, winter glass shreded all the pretty things i left. The ghosts prefered the chance of you but as winter fell and you became more transparent than them, i guess they hitched themselves to the moon, just trying to visit something beautiful.
Im too ******* sappy
Aug 2017 · 276
Paul Donnell Aug 2017
I lost my only pen and consequently lost my head
Sell my psyche .99 only once a month take me away burn everything leave me in the little box you made I'm here I'm here tell me what are my fears slowly dying of irony in a living room with prepackaged food if living is four walls well haha I'm living it up
The crescendo sounds like hey you wanna beer don't think about your fears fortisimo bounce legs grit teeth grip chair turn on the tv live bicariously try to get the experience through fire wire liars
My eyes are melting the chicken is burning  smoke alarm living spontaus combust (ie watch **** smoke **** ride the bus)
I am the walking dead the champion of keeping it down when all I want is to scream and run around
Free floyd ******* because right now writing is all I can do to not loose my ****
Aug 2017 · 131
Paul Donnell Aug 2017
We were the little ones
Cannon ball birds that caravan the country.
Holes in our chest we plant little flowers
We always face the sun.
Aug 2017 · 266
Paul Donnell Aug 2017
I Wanna break down yeah I wanna cry
Condensation on bottles reflect my plight

I'm getting lost in the city lights
I'm losing my head to the mountain tops
If I could figure out what seems right
Maybe my legs would stop shaking and I could fight.

I wanna break down yeah I wanna cry
little dew drops on the mountain rye

I'm the little ruby in your pocket watch
tickin tock talks in the secret grove
cutting into trees make a timeless notch
My breath still smells of your favorite scotch.

I wanna break down yeah I wanna cry
I remember you laughing at an open sky

I said it'd be okay alright
but I guess I'm a liar sometimes
I said it'd be okay alright
but I guess i'm a liar sometimes

Help me decipher your rorschach face
your finger taps mores code, yeah I'm sure
Your arcane eyes always state the place
I lost the message I have to retrace

I Wanna break down yeah I Wanna cry
Pointless I guess against the gust of wind you shot from your chest.
Aug 2017 · 169
on the porch
Paul Donnell Aug 2017
**** me alive.
Realize the candy cane gum drop revelations.
A cigarette for you,
I'll take those daring eyes.
Exhale soft,
the smoke catches the thick Georgia air.
Grey wisps you whisper into my hair and clothes.
Your fingers dance to the flesh of my neck.
You say..
I like the way you smell..
and breath deep everything you just expelled...

Did you even know me?
Aug 2017 · 130
Paul Donnell Aug 2017
psychosis grips, grins.
Shake my head.
Take a sip of gin, make the gut glitter
touch up brainwaves
rainbow palisades carousal ride around repeated word again left right up down **** me wheres the ground movie movie I'm the star listen wait, let me out the car.
Grips. Grins.
Sip. Gin.
How do I scream with written word? It would take a page or clever words but all I have is a sound. Doesn't translate.
Then again, nothing does.
Aug 2017 · 130
Untitled 34
Paul Donnell Aug 2017
I am nothing more than a seasonal wind.
A brief taste of spring.
Coming in hot
Shaking up the leaves.
Make ya notice
Exactly who I am.
And then swiftly as I came
I disappear.

Do you recall?

Do you feel me when you look upon fields of wheat, gently dancing.

Am I nostalgic in nature?
Do I make you say,

I wish..

Because I wish..
I wish Icurus

Haddnt been the embodiment of me.
Jun 2017 · 248
Paul Donnell Jun 2017
I grew roots from neurons and neurotic radio syncretic synapses. Spilling down from the hole in my crown I was flipped dipped upside down feel the magic earth glow grow gain introspective arkane detective powers that is knowledge of higher hyper ions that vibrate a secret song. Close eyes. Listen. In. Out. Fountain head the trees work with you. Listen.
Jun 2017 · 523
Wish I was
Paul Donnell Jun 2017
Brown sugar cinnamon coffee cakes vanilla sin
I wish I was in love again
sassafras dragon tea the rented space inside of me there in lies a vacancy
I wish I was in love again
half full half alive half of me pines for life self sabotage sordid dreams
I wish I was in love again.
walk again walk away walking walking walking pain torture tours with traveling
I wish I was in love again.
Jun 2017 · 151
Go on
Paul Donnell Jun 2017
flowy brain *****. Ink pen space rocket. Cross the stars and dot the quasars. Build a bridge to beyond.
Jun 2017 · 271
Uh, yeah man
Paul Donnell Jun 2017
Blow my mind speak in divine flowy sub laminate between the lines, eye cut  through the body cut through love be raunchy, rhetoric the answers already there I only breath heavy air I'm not a millionaire more like heir to nowhere, master of the barren pasture, salt in wound the morning after sick puppy **** lucky grab chunky crunchy munch the bunch, bunch the rest you know with the radar casters the radio sonic receiver digest the pulpy black and white the combo of lie then excite feed proper postures for pompous up nose president of class Pegasus rider cloud shaper cloud crafter come down cast plaster mold masters mocked by pidgeons sheep dove chickens chicken check the crow rear morrow  yesterday's sorrow the future is hollow the present is persistent presence pupil popping places penultimate progression equals one plus two divided by what will you lose loose lip secrets lapping ears too soon big boom drama driven **** man that spoonful of sour truth hurt more than the knife cut of gossip lie lay the toss up on the table listen listen speak to angels or angles figure out the when where why or just taste the night on palate of your soul roll the bones roll the ***** thoughts home grab deep sleep with your dreams kiss em goodnight then let loose a parody of screams one night stand craigslist ad see em again hopeful hopeless hopping ***** home wrecks homogenize energize heavy drive crash core kick door boot scoot root shoot dug up what luck food truck nation street of treats get groovey gravy with the spicy enticing lacy noodle mood lighting . Uh yeah man
May 2017 · 256
Paul Donnell May 2017
Did I bleed enough already?
Sandpaper mounds, rough canyons, and catawampus scars
have replaced the soft hands I once had.
Rage has given way to a sardonic subsonic sentiment.
My throat was cursed and turned to glass.
Every word spoken threatens to shatter
what holds my head to my shoulders.
Have I suffered sufficiently?
The robin in my dry rotted heart
can not fly on whiskey soaked wings.
The sin that I consume I consummate with good intention.
Am I built on dichotomy?
Eye bitten blind, my wish for a fresh beginning
is always met with un-sustainability.
Finger nails aching for the bite of flesh.
Lips ache for fiberglass and lonely blue smoke.

Undulating rotations of no matter where I go there I am.
To understand I can walk there but I can never really walk from,
Is to understand the only way to escape is to change.
Disassemble; disassociate.
Brain waves are the only ones I drown in.
Am I asking the wrong questions?
My heart houses not just birds of spring,
but fledglings of dragons that war with the dampness of my innards.
Waiting for enough tinder to start the flame that burns this shell
and would set me free.
I offer it fingers I cut from lackadaisical moments heaving with unremitting love.
Just to burn the memory of touch.
It hordes digits and I wait for the day it fills my veins with pasteurizing fire.
I ate from the blackness of repetition and habit and became so comfortable in the self destruction I can see no other way to be.
My idiosyncrasies are synchronized with the pain of constantly finding the moon and longing..
I must change.
Before my tired eyes sag and separate from my face.
Before my ribs grow tired of my heavy sighs and point inward.
Before my little robin drowns.

Soon I'll come around.
Paul Donnell May 2017
I thought I kneww, I thought knew I Could escape the escape from this the prismiatic prism that scatters the living litmus of tasty languish. I was electrocuted but did not die I was hyptotized but had no thoughts of mine me oh my my crastle crashing westgate smashing
I weas blown up torn up ****** up I slipped up caught ciggarette hiccups blue smoke the green **** tar ton in my lungs whisper wheeze the crispy fleece of tubular micro breeze
I make no sense to anyone but myself and all this is just play
vaporize the suit and tie dusty wish stuff made from mildew soft hush *** rush wishing wash upon a star starling colors bleed from mars upon my head the rain again again a grain from solar trains a chugga choo of clothes pin gentle wind smell that touch this soft light flutter white sheet skin glow rainbow window crystal glass slow mo tumble punch gut trouble crystal shatter toes and scatter scar sardonic stars breach the shift of rock ah roll ah cokeacola box ah living oh ah mocha coffee candy sweetly
Motion moving frames repeating the subliminal superluminal transfuckafying metamorphic metaphors leaky brain
May 2017 · 474
The Witness
Paul Donnell May 2017
The witness let out a parody of a scream
Strangled against the depths of the hollar.
The mountain like an inky black old God.
It spoke in tectonic speeds
It shocked the witness
Every cell moved in protest
Its mind was rent from body
Scattered to the void
May 2017 · 183
A letter
Paul Donnell May 2017
When did you start dreaming? When did it become that the stars struck something beyond inspiration. When they started to talk? Low vibrations from eons away the caterpillar trials soon gave way to solitude and then I guess you grew wings.

I had dreams long before you did. Where are my wings? This cotton field, this mountain that looms, these spring flowers that wash the passes with crimson have become something of a prison.

I heard you found something. It glows and shimmers and you can hardly hold it in your soft pink hands. You tired eating it, naively tried ******* some strange power but I heard it bit you back. News of this glowing person comes in from dusty drifters from lands I wish I could see. I take them with all my sense and taste briefly where they're from.  Sometimes your light is washed upon them.

The days have become forever here. The sun broke I think, or maybe it's tired of sharing the sky. It hangs low and turns everything this strange vibrant purple grey and all the moon flowers have died. Does the sun still work where you are?
May 2017 · 162
A moment
Paul Donnell May 2017
Murmur languid passion
Crave, convulse caress
This flicker of fever
For you, wet ecstasy
Could give shudders
luscious agony
May 2017 · 250
Adonis Grinned
Paul Donnell May 2017
I'll be your whiskey sacrifice
Adonis smiled thrice that night
Once for me and twice for you
I'll be your love sick sentinel
Your love **** receptacle
Look I think the moon is blushing
Rushing blood taste of tongue
murmurs of a languid soaking love
May 2017 · 281
Untitled 67
Paul Donnell May 2017
Jumped ****** and born to suffer.
Made to strip naked in the wilderness.
The things we knew splayed out next to us as we picked new constellations from trivial mountain nights.
The bus would later hitch up my soul and drag it screaming across the states.
I would soon follow.
Out there in the great beyond I found God inside an onion.
It opened before me and showed exactly how to get down.
Music madness mountain magic.
If only I could tell lies perhaps old strings may still be tied.
A message with confused intentions.
My head split from the seed that was planted by a woman of white linen and knowledge of the plague.
Healing waters glowed golden as the silk of spiders made bridges that seemed just sturdy enough to cross.
But was not.
Give us peace here bluesy air dive bar cancer.
Give us peace here, distant fog horn monolith mirrors the fear of rare blood.
Give us peace look deep the fire speaks a vessel of the ancient.
Hold breath and see truth.
Breath out and send.
Once again.
One more.
No one is listening.
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