chew the shards of glass
between your overcast teeth and promise me this time— promise me you wouldn’t lie. doesn’t feel too good with blood overflowing in your mouth, does it? did it turn the ashes into putrid mud, as well, and pour out from every orifice in a thick, dull sludge, confessing the crimes tucked quietly behind those calculating, glimmerless eyes… does the crunching of glass sound like the bones i broke trying to convince myself that your gaping lips are meant for more than blatant fabrications— does the crunching of glass sound like sweet music to you, the way it does to me right now?
Maybe if I write about you
my heart will be at ease; maybe the butterflies will stop. I can't acknowledge you because then, I'll have to admit to crimes that even I don't know I've committed.
Constructive criticism is always welcome.
People All Over The World
Have Committed So Many Crimes, That Nature Has Made Them To Hide Their Faces In Shame.
My View Of Corona Is That It Is Nature's Fury Against Sinful Living Of The People All Over The World. I Never Saw Women At Risk As They Were Pre-Corona. What Happens After The Virus Is Completely Killed, I Can't Say. But #My_View Is That There Ought To Be Some Positive Change. What Do You Think Esteemed Readers?
I have no mercy
For you Any longer. I wish I did. I won't surrender No. I can't. I've come too far On my own journey, Yes. I'm not a heartless villain Like Disney. I can feel it destroying me I am a child of anger Until the battle is done. I can feel it Burning in my veins The rage In my blood You stepped too far You pushed too far You thought you were safe. You thought you were Untouchable. But people talk And talk And talk And now I'm done. You don't seem to understand That you need to run Because I know more than he does And you're naive If you think I won't tell him. You can sleep for today But tomorrow we fight.
Are haywire Lying to me in Crossfire, So hard to Stay positive When all are Screaming so Negative, Every step turned Ash Hard work a Crumbling crass, No pieces remain Enact To react Fallen hope Choking to cope, With shaky breathe You stood Collecting What left of you? Before vultures attack Fragmenting pride Altering into self crimes, Thoughts are powerful Shrine Can pull through Abhorrent verve Lying only one side Of turf
product of butchered philosophy
men must suffer at the hands of those distracted by their thirst for their self interest punishment is dealt at the request of politics radical voices which are silenced by the liberty bred into the rebel who too fought against crimes seeking refuge in a new land but would not allow refuge to those who suffered at the hands of their destruction
A rope swings gently in the wind
hanging from an elevated stage an audience mills below the steps From a gleaming metal bared window a young women in plain clothes watches she sits proper and straight before her fate They come at dawn clacking with her chains she holds her head high down the hall as tears stream down her petite face The steps are high as they hoist her up ringing the rope around her fragile neck the roughness is a promise of darkness In the crowd she sees her children mourning Not yet dead she smile at them sadly and mouths “I’ll always love you” There is an ominous thump from below and she struggles in the air hands grasping too light for the rope to snap her neck Hours and hours later the crowd gone she breathes her last breath alone hanging for something she didn’t do
On a street near Don Juan
In Boca Chica's bay Nightly music and drums unwind To a proclavity of dismay Little seashells aplenty For every pious gaze Unripen beauty so varied Habitual buyers unfaze Rising tension of devout sinners Smoke and coffee breach the air A salted heart in a mink's coat "Toma dos ahora" ; take a pair In Boca Chica's bay, seashells aplenty Little seashells: its sells, it sells
May your Interpretation guide you.
side by side,
smothered in rhyme covered in agonizing crimes they stand and stare, but darling beware for they are not the angels you sought to find, but the demons that caused our crimes