what fantasy should I play into today watch the fruitful image become laced with dust like Pompeii what fantasy should I play into today become just another burnt-out cigarette in your astray my life is simply a fallacy, nobody truly cares for me, losing my sanity in the name of chastity my life is unsatisfactory, nobody truly can handle me, confidence beat up no battery, take another shot of vanity woah, I feel it start to form woah, the new queen of the swarm woah, x marks the spot no storm woah, no longer can conform to society, their ideology in breach of me and my values, firmer than statutes life can bruise, covered in the cool hues and my bad news is I can still lose but why focus on the lack and knives wedged in my back rather not focus on that discard the cracks and sneak attacks rather not focus on that my walls are up and they keep you back
My soul is a vacant lot. Years ago sold to some shyster looking to make a quick buck. No one could live on those kind of wages.
The emptiness now a flattened yard all sorts of wreckage leaking power steering fluid with anti-freeze an environmental hazard if nothing else.
My spirit is an abandoned brownstone where photos once tacked on walls reminiscent of happier times smiles were genuine, ties were taught Sunday best meant just that – then and there A home fully furnished with memoires back in the day now foreclosed shuttered.
My heart is an empty warehouse years ago used to recycle broken promises, empty wishes, hollow, unrealized dreams My good intentions could push through the hurt a cost of doing business never questioning the **** in – **** out logistics
Then, the last love broke away from the loading dock out back on its forever journey to paradise while I stood there on a rotting, empty platform with the invoice in my hand the NSF cheque written in blood signed with my tears.
9/10 Feb ‘21
Honestly this is not as dark as it might read (honest). It is a pragmatic look at love and love lost again and again. I read this to friends who immediately asked me if "I was okay". 'I'm fine - thank you. The truth needs to be told and I like to think I'm lighter for it.
i was at a little coffee place, still open it was one i frequented often, when in the sin a place of pity when you look closely at the people or inspect the buildings a bit nearer some street blocks you need just look down but i'd bought a cup for a nice young fella out on his luck he'd made the pavement his pillow and as he talked my ear off on physics, domestic politics, and stocks i thought of what little difference it made to so many whether it was him or i calling my stay on the straightaways and the little that made us separate
Rigid, impasto clouds Stick out of the sky Like Van Gogh Put them there himself Sky peaking between Buildings and towers Pushed and pulled Twisted and ripped apart Like fabric tearing slowly Moved by the breeze Invisible currents slicing A silent cacophony of air I reach up and feel Solid, dried paint crackles Under my finger tips I pull my hand away Digits stained white and blue and gray
Shifting streets and their buildings Pulsing and moving and shaking Jagged and prickly corners Edges of windows glint Like drops of blood On the edge of a sword Walls and sidewalks Rough like a giant cat's tongue The skyscrapers carve the landscape Into a distorted forest An amalgamation of today And yesterday and the day before that I reach forward and feel I pull back in shock Fingers pricked and knees scraped
The Gargoyle on the roof. How far you've come, Without moving an inch. Always there; Often unseen. Standing steadfast, but time and the elements Will always chip away.
The Gargoyle on the roof: Sometimes small, Sometimes large. It will make itself known one day When it finally flies but Is found to be frozen in stone. Tumbling, tumbling down To hit the ground And shatter Or will it be saved From it's terminal fall By my unsuspecting brain? Will I be the one Who shatters?
The clock revealed 4 am. Glorious blue tones overtook the darkness; The chirping melody was blurring into the scene of this vital composition of the dawn.
The buildings remained quiet. The nearly vacant streets welcomed a few hard-working men; I sensed the smell of the syrupy pastries from the old, dear bakery.
I pulled the sheets off of myself. Let the chill early breeze settle on my chest; The entirely opened windows left the walls glazed with the gold tinted sunrays.
I close my eyes again. Perhaps I woke up by accident, though this rare occurrence was delightful; For now, I'll just let my mind continue it's journey through my dreams...the deepest corners of my visions, the endless floating through the seas.
City stretching wide, Touching on every side. Buildings so high, They look beyond the sky. Space a playground of travel, So vast it can only baffle. Time a never ending maze; We can subdue every phase.