she asked for a birthday calendar simplistic in design quite endearing nonetheless to collate each and every important date mark them down in her neatest clearest handwriting she thought that if she hung it in pride of place on the wall by the kitchen door her eye would be drawn to it each time she left the room she would not forget to send the appropriate message of congratulations and many happy returns when needed or expected; although the calendar may coincidentally be showing the correct month it has remained on that page untouched ignored or unheeded for the past eleven months
the brightest star of that well-known oft mistaken constellation disfigured and disguised by the shifting of Rorschach’s clouds the temporary flair of an unremarkable astral body burning through the upper atmosphere forgotten immediately as it fades along with any accompanying wish the strobing beacon of wingtip or undercarriage marking the distance needed for safety moving through turbulence restlessness and discomfort watched with ill-considered envy in this overcast night sky those twinkling lights will often go unnoticed or simply ignored
forgotten are those bright autumnal colours of the freshly fallen no longer able to offer a crisp rustling with each step a whisper that invites child and adult alike to kick and shuffle playfully ignoring the bite of frost unwelcomed by noses and fingertips
those downbeat leaves lately of such seasonal delight have been rejected by bough and branch drifting meekly without protest or wrenched from arboreal familiarity by gusting wind or gloved hand turned to mulch by constant downpours muddily trodden upon without second thought clinging to any passing boot trainer or shoe only to be scraped and scuffed on pavement or curb stomped in a puddle left behind
Nobody writes about the glue unless it doesn't stick like it used to Nobody cares about what's always there until it's gone elsewhere There is no art about the dirt in the dark, but it keeps us from falling apart
I know you think that they never saw you oh, but I do
Sometimes you feel invisible because you don't like your hair and you're not very tall But don't let that make you feel so small Because without you my world wouldn't turn at all
I know you think that they'll never see you oh, but I do
Maybe you'll be Eventually Lost to history again
A face in the crowd A voice in the loud But I know I'd know it anywhere
So I'll have you sign a book in my mind I'll paint your name across the sky
I'm gonna write about the glue I'm gonna write about you
gravity lost its pull scientists can’t answer this i’m drowning in the ocean with the space between us leaving us this time biblical verses couldn’t nurse this i’m beyond lost i’m nameless i’m forgotten about this is my lungs collapsing prays to god has been bounded to the heart as graveyard head stones are defaced with the script edged out ends the death of gravity
i was once your draw now i’m the relative of death with no hope just as memory of a lost cause
All those little trinkets, bracelets, rings and even a boombox, that he had others bring to me, They were all stolen goods that vexed people would come and claim back from me time after time. I never had the heart to tell him to stop. He reminded me too much of a stray cat who’d finally found a temporary home where he would bring tributes to his mistress feet.
When I asked him what he was doing sleeping outside my front door. He blushed and mumbled, that he would protect me from bad guys who could break in and steal me away. How crazy and scary of a notion was that? And yet.... He made me think of a dancing bear who finally could scent freedom without chains.
The day when they came to take him away. ... I tried to tell them that he would never hurt me. That he merely collected broken shards of scattered treasures that deep inside him spoke about who he really was, before the drugs castrated his future self. Later... When going through the rubble he left behind, I found the glimmer of a hauberk forged for an Avalonian knight.
I'm a "soul whisperer" meaning that I'd rather speak with people whom I can identify some kind of sincerity from. Some broken spirits I have met in life, I do strongly believe they were the voices of Heaven.
Alone she sits upon her dusty throne. Her eyes sunken and her long moth bitten gown hung lifeless to her ashen skin. The unforgiving chime's of time pass her by. Dripping with jewels her boney hand still clung to the broken string of pearls as they roll between the cold stone cracks beneath her feet. Secrets layed to rest long ago with no voice to tell. She who has been long forgotten dwells in the silence of her chambers for all eternity.
thoughts once so clear now flee en mass like small birds scattering in the wind... try to capture one and it fades to dust in my trembling hand my eyes teared up by the loss... what was her name... when was it I smiled like the sun bursting through the clouds on that day... where did I misplace that long-sought device... where have all my yesterdays gone... all escapes along the shifting winds of age small beautiful birds plumage so bright and beautiful to behold loves and laughter, days of wonder and joy crumble into dust as my forgetful fingers pry at their edges, trying to recall... her yesterday was my forever do you think she remembers me? ... as I slip into forgetfulness I hope that I will no longer remember to mourn my forgotten yesterdays... age is coming for me and iv forgotten how to tame that ugly beast