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worn-downPoems
Another drunk poem between headphones, static & blank screens surround me Awoke in the morning with a gamblers smile, like seagulls flocking, resting, gliding Broken, crushed, words like quiet jokes until that last whisper under ***** sheets in a cheap motel Yet we sip our poison and smoke our cancer, brothers and friends crammed into closeness Smiles spent on the eyes of those to lovely to smile back, yet their hearts were warmed By gapped tooth grins and young men with dirt under bitten fingernails Last night the headlights behind me made silver halos in the mist As I walked down gravel roads with mud stuck everywhere, my constant companion Some days I forget I’m human, that I exist, sitting in the passenger seat, watching the world run by Two kids with backpacks and a stray cat, asked them where they were heading, “Hitchhiking to nowhere..” Nowhere sounds about right right now, looking at the state of things A place of fragrant trees and uncut grasses, stones unturned and clear running streams The broken limestone memories of my childhood call to me Not much left of that anymore, just fragments like a smashed tooth Can’t even think some days, easier not to I think, easier to let it all pass by I saw a darkness today, and I closed my eyes to try for light Standing under rusty bridges, flicking dead embers away Between blue lines on the page I spill thoughts like spoilt milk Scribbles and scratches, wasted and unwanted, lost between memories Memories I claim, not sure if they’re even mine anymore Twenty two years old with a death wish by thirty Dots and lines, a splash of smiles and laughter, stains in the carpet And we sit here like corpses, the two of us, cigarette butts between twitching fingers Stilled by the last exhale, the moment between inaction and locomotion Our still waters stirred, clear blue skies filled with rain clouds, still blue above them Your room, surrounded by rooms full of people, washing dishes or watching their dreams die on T.V. screens None of that matters to me, just your breath and hearing your voice for a second before sleep takes over I left a note in that book you told me you’d read, guess you never got around to it
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Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 12:42 PM UTC
Sleeping In The Rain
Another drunk poem between headphones, static & blank screens surround me Awoke in the morning with a gamblers smile, like seagulls flocking, resting, gliding Broken, crushed, words like quiet jokes until that last whisper under ***** sheets in a cheap motel Yet we sip our poison and smoke our cancer, brothers and friends crammed into closeness Smiles spent on the eyes of those to lovely to smile back, yet their hearts were warmed By gapped tooth grins and young men with dirt under bitten fingernails Last night the headlights behind me made silver halos in the mist As I walked down gravel roads with mud stuck everywhere, my constant companion Some days I forget I’m human, that I exist, sitting in the passenger seat, watching the world run by Two kids with backpacks and a stray cat, asked them where they were heading, “Hitchhiking to nowhere..” Nowhere sounds about right right now, looking at the state of things A place of fragrant trees and uncut grasses, stones unturned and clear running streams The broken limestone memories of my childhood call to me Not much left of that anymore, just fragments like a smashed tooth Can’t even think some days, easier not to I think, easier to let it all pass by I saw a darkness today, and I closed my eyes to try for light Standing under rusty bridges, flicking dead embers away Between blue lines on the page I spill thoughts like spoilt milk Scribbles and scratches, wasted and unwanted, lost between memories Memories I claim, not sure if they’re even mine anymore Twenty two years old with a death wish by thirty Dots and lines, a splash of smiles and laughter, stains in the carpet And we sit here like corpses, the two of us, cigarette butts between twitching fingers Stilled by the last exhale, the moment between inaction and locomotion Our still waters stirred, clear blue skies filled with rain clouds, still blue above them Your room, surrounded by rooms full of people, washing dishes or watching their dreams die on T.V. screens None of that matters to me, just your breath and hearing your voice for a second before sleep takes over I left a note in that book you told me you’d read, guess you never got around to it
worn-down
Written by
worn-down
33/M/American
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 12:42 PM UTC
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