coldplay reminds me of your hands ridged deep like a cat tongue but unnaturally smooth at the same time. And hooded lids, that I liked to draw, eyebrows to rub and stipple my pinky with your eyelashes.
i tried to write you a letter once but was unsure of the address for the heavens where you shine not "Heaven" per say but the stars that gained your carbon as you selflessly gave it away
turns out celestial bodies aren't listed in the yellowpages
i tried sending you smoke signals twice but the message was so **** long and it read more like a song and you never much liked my lyrics anyway
i moved on to morse code spent night after night lying on my back with a flashlight dripping ceasless patterns of dots and dashes into that murky blue puddle of midnight sky as if maybe you'd reply with a simple "hush" and a shyly sigh
it finally dawned on me that you probably couldn't decode it that your parents probably never made you learn i cursed them for not teaching you how best to reach me
now i'm getting older and colder and alot less wide-eyed and hopeful
now i just hope you can hear me speak
the click in the back of my throat that comes with trying not to cry the sincerity in my 'love you's and my 'miss you's and in my uncensored ungaurded love that i ash onto your headstone from the end of my pregnant joints
now i just hope you can taste the beers i bring to share with you as i'm rambling along the rails of my de-railing train of thought and ripping through that sixer i brought you and your cheap taste in beer
i hide the bottle caps in those little metal vases that your mom keeps filled with florist foam and different colored silk lillies they always look so nice
now i just hope you can read me better than you ever could before
i hope you've decoded the lines in my palms and the ***** of my feet and the cracks in my nicotine teeth as i'm smiling wildly at the earth that keeps your ashes safe close to her breaking heart
i hope you can read the quotation atop your grave i'd have never imagined that the one permanent thing i could ever give you was the last line of the last text that i'd ever send your way
i meant it back then but now it means so much more
"sleep sweetly, philly, you will never be forgotten"
Under her dark veil she wrung her hands. "Why are you so pale today?" "Because I made him drink of stinging grief Until he got drunk on it. How can I forget? He staggered out, His mouth twisted in agony. I ran down not touching the bannister
And caught up with him at the gate. I cried: 'A joke! That's all it was. If you leave, I'll die.' He smiled calmly and grimly And told me: 'Don't stand here in the wind.' "
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon, I heard a ***** play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other night By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light He did a lazy sway . . . He did a lazy sway . . . To the tune o' those Weary Blues. With his ebony hands on each ivory key He made that poor piano moan with melody. O Blues! Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool. Sweet Blues! Coming from a black man's soul. O Blues! In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone I heard that ***** sing, that old piano moan-- "Ain't got nobody in all this world, Ain't got nobody but ma self. I's gwine to quit ma frownin' And put ma troubles on the shelf."
Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor. He played a few chords then he sang some more-- "I got the Weary Blues And I can't be satisfied. Got the Weary Blues And can't be satisfied-- I ain't happy no mo' And I wish that I had died." And far into the night he crooned that tune. The stars went out and so did the moon. The singer stopped playing and went to bed While the Weary Blues echoed through his head. He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.
when I was younger I just wanted to be Alice so that when I fell down a hole there would at least be a purpose, an adventure and a story to tell.
I would be famous, befriend the weird and wonderful & finally belong.
but I got older acquainted with the real world and found myself in a very different hole; there is no white rabbit to tell me where to go and the monster in my head will not be slain so simply and my tears don't allow me to simply float away.
but the biggest disappointment (I blame growing up and finding love and losing hope) is that there is no end to this hole of mine.
and I'm falling & falling && falling.
and I'm afraid it's too late to rewrite my ending.
it's too late at night and i'm too tired to hide from depression so excuse the awful poem please