There are few words of substance to be said.
I won't reinforce the violence.
There are some terrifying acts
I could concoct when I'm thinking of her.
But I have taste.
Class.
Shame, even.
I can't fall into her category of betrayal.
I won't stoop down that deep.
I'll keep it to myself,
and dump out the stew.
With everyone I embrace, I'll forget about you.
Conscious.
What does it mean any way?
Friendship.
Who needs the glamor?
I stammer when I say your name-
but realize that your claim to fame
was a ******* child-
you couldn't be a good father.
You held your music like a baby
but tossed it out like a bother.
Uttering this, as you called her.
She called you.
You kissed her.
No, she kissed you.
You don't love her.
But she loves you.
This isn't the last one, I gasp,
and take the card and cookies that you gave me,
on the day that we turned two
drop tears on them
like suicide bombs and
toss them in the dust bin.
This just in,
this trust is
demolished and disgusting.
****** with ample shine,
Like the muck thats left behind
when a porter-***** by a tree is cracked,
and all that's done to clean it up-
is the dumping of icewater.
Washed us away for a bit-
but there's still this ****.
I feel it seep into my soils.
I wont let it reach my roots.
I need to grow and shoot
up to the sky away from you
and her
and thoughts of you
and her
I can't seem to get too far from you
and her
My branches reach up to the clouds,
hold me once again "doubt."
Let me be your baby,
let me stop and shout.
I keep falling down.
I'll rise again, then drown,
in this filthy water.
No-
There are flowers in the future.
I can smell them now.