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Scrap Metal Jan 2018
i dont get it
i dont get us
sometimes im not sure i get anything
it might just be my downfall;
trying so hard to grasp it all
helplessly adrift, i fee like a rag doll.
people have the gall to portray what they are not,
we fight for equality
when honesty is an anomaly,
give credit to the pathetic
while the empathetic medic
administers an anesthetic
so he/she can save a life, unnoticed
but focused on which celebrity, out of Beverly
who got another synthetic appendage, unsatisfied with their genetic
aesthetic over utility
delusion over reality
we as a society coward away from reality
Scrap Metal Sep 2017
At a time where it seems so very hard, for me just to feel alive.
all I wanted then, was to drive
As ridiculous as it seems
it was the stuff of my dreams
all I needed was my car and vacant 4am roads.

Going through the gears, as if they were my final years
piston tatted-ring finger; hand firmly wrapped around the wheel
braking late into the corner
locking up the alloy steel wheels on my automobile  
the tires squeal
waltzing them back into rotation as I find the threshold
clutch in
twist of the leg at the hip, I blip the throttle with my heel
down into second
one swift movement
un-burnt fuel erupts in the pipes.
blitzing through the off ramp
keeping it tight, clipping the manhole cover in the apex
pedal flat coming out, bounce the tach' as its not worth the upshift
pitch the car into the long sweeping overpass bend
the back end kicks out on decel'
counter steer and slam the accelerator back into the bare metal floor
front wheels clawing in the direction that I please
keys slapping my knees
straighten out and I ease her back home.

reverse down into the narrow; dimly lit garage
as I climb out, I can feel the heat radiating from the machine I built
hot oil ticking as it finds its way back to the pan
I stand and watch my car slowly disappear behind the garage door
it is but another night survived
for both of us.
imagine your single most favorite thing to do is extremely dangerous, illegal and selfish.
Scrap Metal Aug 2017
I let my guard down
you kept yours up
slipping my questions
like Ali bob-n'-weaves through a flurry'
untouchable
Beautiful like a butterfly, but still stings like a bee
shes got a degree in kicking ***
and enough sass to harass me
painfully, playfully.

Shes a sweet pea,
who listens to indie
drinks peppermint greet tea
a spirit so free
its something to merit
you would never believe it

In the cage, shes a killer
shes no wannabe petite bourgeoisie
shell be on a killing spree
crush you like a flea, under her knee
that's a guarantee.

Shes the queen bee
ink to show it
i'm not a poet
'but a potent moment of expression
that's my confession
and so I question;
motionless, face buried in the canvas,
why did I let my guard down.
I fall way too fast and way too hard... working on it.
Scrap Metal May 2018
it is a long road,
you must be bold
ive been told
but nights are cold
and im loosing my hold

ive been before
many times
what wonderful place
the other side

every visit
adds a digit
another mile
without a smile

id like to reside
but terrified
if even to make it back
to the other side
does anyone really even live on the other side or is it a constant back and forth?

— The End —