karma ch

karma ch Dec 3

i don't like a big crowd
they take the intimacy from an event
because when another man's adoration is more loud
i begin to wonder why i even went
to crawl from my skin and head back in time
to when the venue was empty, and the bass used to play sublime.
but those times are gone now, those singers' shells are empty, and now i just have to be free of mine.

as those lights burn in my eyes
i begin to realize that i don't and never will belong here
that tear inside my heart begins to fill with fear
because, i never thought i'd want to die
but, i don't and never will belong here
in this big dome of sounds and lies

i love conor oberst

#prose #poem #concert #music

karma ch Nov 13

the pretty boy in your locket

i i i, i'm the charm in your trench
you're the archaic obsession i sleep with
you rest deep in my grey matter
i rest deep in your camera phone gallery

a thought and a picture of the past
you wish and try, but you can't forget me
disturbed by the trauma i bring you
while you jadedly lie with whatever girl looks your way

i i i, i know i don't stand a chance
you don't see my face when you look at me
my wonders cease when i look in the mirror
i still love you

you don't want me to go
but as long as you don't forget me
i'll exist dead or alive
as the slumbering reason you keep on
the pretty, prattling boy in your silver locket

i love you, i hope to see you tomorrow.

#love #lovelorn #suicide #queer #gay

karma ch Nov 13

olive(r)

i foretold the marches of men like you
the squeaks of my heart are few
far apart are words not close nor true regarding the creaks of my neglected door hinges
the grungy scene and light feels cold and awful but not as much as my love for you.

i'm not one to raise my voice
i don't reply much either
forces shan't pose a choice
for i was never told to
just flow through the air and work as an amp
i was told to be the sheath of mass as a shade is of a lamp
the managed rings that circle a renaissance
or the damaged middle-ground between a fall and a ramp.

forgive me if i moved too fast, i'm not used to attention.
not that of perfection, stunned by your complexion
sweet words to a lady for her love and retention.
but i'm not a love, i am simply tension
between a brain and a heart, integrity or intention.

i love you, have a good evening

— The End —