Beauty is draining from the world at an alarming rate...
Nothing means anything anymore.
Sex is just a past time and not an expression of anything, trust or otherwise.
Words mean little, often biting and cruel
Society has grown jaded and water is thicker than blood.
Family keep secrets and speak not to each other, but to the masks each has created.
Friends are not true and often hard to find....
Loneliness is an epidemic, and no one cares enough to find the cure.
I do not trust a happy day
My mind recalls past patterns
And each time hope has come my way
Peeking past life’s parted veil
Singing songs of sweet tomorrows
The weeks that come are always hell
As are the all the years that follow
I do not trust a lover’s promise
For they can be given so easily
I have seen certain hearts shattered
When loving to carefree and happily
I know one cannot pledge eternity
Anything can be broken even the best family
I do not trust a possessor’s passion
Cause in pursuing owner’s pleasures
I have found all things are only passing
For the taking, to give, in the asking
We all tire of the new toy
Sweet things can rot away
Adding one more item to your pile
Won’t save you from your final fate
There is a far darker day dogging me
The shadows tight on my trail
Night will fall sooner than expected
So even when I smile, I do not trust myself
Moods will change, ebbing and flowing
With the winds that keep my armor
Flapping up and down so my scars are showing
The good is just a phase
Then again I could say the same thing
About the bad days coming
Neither are permanent
Only one thing is inevitable
I'm sick of being sick of everything
deep red, it burns a hole into my skull
original right? four in the morning, I bet you're crying now
you alienate your friends and revere drug abuse
how fucking original
39, 40, 41, only son, nothing done, faulty one
63, 64, 65, tricky lives, slicker knives, I'm sick, I lie
98, 99, 100, and I dread, and how red, I'm brain dead
A song for the bluebird, a tune for the jay
awkward in silence, dire words, while at play
Noting the difference, of the things that we say
inflection and nuance, depends on the day
Hand me no justice, from books that you've read
ideals in vain, too many liberals dead
Reality binds, as would bad underpants
not pessimistically wrong, given half a chance
Don't shoot the messenger, when delivery done
dark be the letter, that's never much fun
I tend to play with the notion of love.
I see people who are in love,
and I wish to know
what it feels like to
cherish the existence of someone,
and to share with them
the most personal parts
of your body and soul.
I often find my cynicism
to cripple my chance
of ever finding someone
who I could love.
I fantasize about love so often,
yet I do so much to-
ruin whatever chance I could have.
I may never love someone-
the way I wish to love someone.
I drew two from a deck:
nothing and the ninth.
It was a decent start,
because I'm living the good life.
I know only fools
turn blind eyes.
But I'm still playing my part.
Most meet a terrible fate.
When it's done
and love finally fails me too,
I'll leave my body in the woods
or maybe the walls.
And I'll be fine
if I never speak
to another damn human
© Derek Devereaux Smith 2015, 2016
if I speak of tranquillity, it is the tequila
replying to your eager eyes
mocking your lovely lies
it is my inner cynic in disguise
this bar is an escape, drinking away the vicious veins
terrible at talking but here I stand
touching your hair resembling a lion’s mane
with a bottle in my other hand
very, very nice champagne
very, very pleasant night
I forgot his name, but it began to rain
this time not from my eyes
at one with my pathetic mind and the pure air who avoided fire
showers returning sooner rather than later
teardrops thinner than brass wire
scribbled white paper, typical white water
The corner street awaits with pride
Raise the palm and wave me hello
As the eyes melt reveal your heart
The smile is the manipulating trap
A stance you gaze magnifies my life
Stay in the zone oozing not snoozing
Disengaged in bases of sinking shells
Float on the wavy stretchy topography
Claim my proponent inside the rigid iris
The splash of the canvas sprays attraction
Alternate the kaleidoscope fluid flashes
A slash, smashing my scepticism cynism
Untitled spiking depths and radiant flames
Erode past the sizzling chargrilled grins
It's in my eyes, my very soul sits and shines