“the ones that feel everything already know...” Harlon Rivers
curse this blessing. leeches leach this blessing. this summation this summary judgment this sum of my addiction addition where from this mark of cain upon my eyes, intended to drown a brimful poet in a wellspring of their product?
blood sweat and tears the tea my quill is in the rivulets that drown the scarred pathways perforce dipped
walk the streets and all secrets to me betrayed yours not mine for in my possess but one feel everything
every scowling every halved smile the ecstasy of belly laugh I know I know the libretto of a thousand operas that do not all reach a final act
a-few cogent my x-ray ability aNd and the most desperate with out the disparity of no partition despise
This might be paranoia Please tell me that I’m wrong But 27 days Is already far too long I told you that I loved you You said you loved me more We smile through our sutured eyes And then you shut the door I thought that I would lose again You told me you would stay Used to always be around But now you’ve walked away Now and then, you stop to talk Enough to keep me on But not so much to make me think You’re not already gone.
I was lost until I found me in you But now I am lost again I still look at you with the eyes that wants you But your eyes are cold like the storm I asked you if everything could go to the way it was But you were already in someone else’s arms
funny the way we laugh but we can't stay like that some times we are rough someone's always putting a dot
i hope you get it but I think you don't, I bet I want it to be fixed I hate it, you broke us at six
tired, I'm losing my grip. i dont wanna lose you. but what can I do? **** girl, you already tripped.
and now that we're over i want you to remember the night we kissed on november wretched, I lost my lover.
an untitled poem for the person who gave me reasons to write again, and now she's giving me reasons to stop again but I've been thinking about it. The pain she gave, the more my words are becoming powerful. Oh, i need her like the poet needs pain. Untitled, x.