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Lake Aug 2019
There's no shortcut in this game
I want to make a move, but every time I do
You come out of the blue, always so brand new
I guess I'm trying to keep it tame
I don't need to guess the weather
Cause the less I know the better

Second guessing all my doubts
How many strikes until I'm out
Am I the only one this patient
Are you sick of all this waiting

I love and hate your poker face
I won't say it right away
I wish I could read your mind
But I hope you can't read mine

I'll try and try again
But every now and then
I find it hard to tame myself
I can only blame myself
Lake Jul 2019
it's just another raincheck
just another delay
waiting for sunny days
it's just another raincheck
till the clouds go away
but they always seem to stay

how much longer can i wait
how much longer can you stay
another day is just another way
to say i'm not here today
missing out on what matters
just in case a storm gathers

i can't get out of here
until the weather's clear
an endless loop of waiting
being cooped up, delaying
nothing's ever changing
and it's still raining
Kieran Messer Apr 2019
Her hair is dyed green,
But my mind doesn't say
wren Apr 2019
when we're locked together
in one another's warm embrace,
all my fears,
all my inhibitions,
they all melt away.
Wordsmith Jul 2018
It stifles more than stimulates,
Imprisons more than liberates,
Inhibits more than invigorates,
So why let it dominate..
Breon May 2018
Drawn deep on the seething alcohol sting
Of a summer-sweat mask made with every effort
Drinking down to the bottle's bottom.

On the way, we'll see a dozen devils in familiar faces,
Friendly smiles and devilish grins, temptations,
Invitations beckoning attention and so much more...

The heat washes down to lingering hands, to lips, to eyes,
Dragging them away from propriety, tangling their leashes,
Stripping away restraint, shattering will.
I'll have to revisit this, but if you'd like to workshop it, please - feel free.
Ejiogu Stanley May 2016
My obsession with her is such a clear menace
To serenity, hormones are all over the place
I see her fiery soul...
I see her fiery soul.
My intuition is battling all my inhibition
"Abort the mission", she's battling with her indecision
I see her fiery soul...
I see her fiery soul.
They say innocence lost is never retained
It's deeper than lust, it's pleasure and pain
My brain says I should slowly refrain, my heart tells me I can do it again
It's Fvckd up
Sean Flaherty Jul 2015
Out-of-that same hole, you built the bridge that brought you into my apartment, and closer, enough, to laugh, at my-joke. Enough to make you comfortable, once. And well-built-bridges survive torrential burns. 
[Good pitching usually bests good hitting, bad defense is hard to play-beyond, but, for some reason, sonny keeps-on. Practicing that shot, past-the-arc, [page 8] feet-so-far from the floor.]
I bet on another-blaze, from that boy. Bet his broker--- down at the "bridge-insurance-agency"--- bet, that he bets, too. One big tragedy and The Bad Boy-Blonde bought himself a little capital-l Legitimacy. Or at least a capital 
M-mulligan, ~~~~ _~~. "******, man, can't make another mistake?"

I mumble, again, to myself. But this time, I'm not complicit. I won't be the lubricant, whilst he wears-down his looks, or when he can't use his **** every day, or when he runs out, again--- back, with mean things to say. And now he's ******* disappeared, and you're back on my couch, and we both complain. And you read a poem, and I write a love letter. And---

That part there, that ain't-even projection! Another delusion, maybe. Again. Am I trapped, in [page 9] typing out words that later, I'll trick myself into believing? Or? Truly? I'm more sum, than total, when you tag-along. I'm totally, and tragically, head-over-heels. You'll hear this, here, and have a hard time listening--- "no, listen, I understand all that, and have a position on your counter-punches."

I couldn't, possibly, corrupt my own kingdom by exiling you entirely. Because, yeah, you're so beautiful, but you're also my-best bud. You, fit-flawless, and fearless, and effortlessly, into the hole, left by the jigsaw-piece, lost-years ago. My friends, and ******-when, had it, penultimately, "pieces-no-more," way-back then. 

Yet you're sure you weren't there. "You're sure? You weren't there?" You can be sure, I [page 10] believe you. I'm not under the impression that this is the long-con. I know, I'm a little-less-adorable, when I yawn. Or I cough, or I cry. And if I fawn, all-over you, still, after, I admit. I've really been trying to get-over-this, for a bit. (you could, honestly, be the best-friend that I've never-had-yet.)

And, you could, plainly break-my-heart, again. Apathetic over my annoying requests, for you to, "read my ****!" For it to be this, and you, getting-so-mad. For Adderall-sale to become the staple of our "extra-workular-relationship." For us to lose all contact, like my personalities, currently. For losing the ability to over-explain HBO programs to "This-girl-from-seven-nine-three." For you, this might be easy!

No, sir! Miss, I mean! No, you! I won't let it happen, if you say you won't, too. Put this down, make no mention, if it's made you upset. I've [page 11] already trusted you, once, to forget. And, he did, as well, so we're on the same page. Writing about him: lettered-love, turned toward rage (never, in-your-direction). I'm sure, at one-point, I had promised: no-more interventions. Lashing out was true, but convolutes my intentions. True, also, is the certainty of this-thing, I claim. The third-dream, "with ~~~-~~~~ ~~~," ~~~~~~-~~~~, yeah. You're the name.
I censor the sensitive bits, solely, sorry though.
Sean Flaherty Jul 2015
I don't have recurring dreams, but... right..., my dreams... recurring themes. And, if in-them, I've a ... "love-interest?" ... they've taken many shapes. The one, and-one-and-one more, who've shown up more than once, I could cough up, cry-out-over, and name. Only three come, through the old haunts, of my odd-head's hallway, Round-and-round-and-round trip. [redact] At least here, I dated her. In real-life, as-opposed, to the annals of [page 6] more depths-delusional. Did wrong [redact]. couldn't believe she was "glad I came." Care enough, to care. She couldn't-care-less. Middle-ground, Grey-areas, and misinterpretations make my skin crawl. Excepting another-day-in-April,


and maybe if I sing it better this time she'll seeeeeeeeeeeeeee... "wait, Kay, Cee, and Ell?" I've noticed too, and it's cute, but a fluke. Not some-hidden-meaning. "Got a subconscious, on me," Freud couldn't pursue.

Silly, and I didn't mean to be serious, but you're starting to get a grip-on-it. The feelings may fade, but the drip-drop flow of dreams adds to the direness of my dilemma. Alas, around when she's leaving us-all, in Natick, [page 7] I began-becoming acquainted with another-animal-lover. "Any port in the storm?" Any pill, and a razorblade. "A penchant, for an interesting existence!" Next-door, the slowly-nailed-coffin! Where people are abandoning their unloved pets! She mentions Bertrand Russell, in-the-line to buy, more jet fuel.

 "(sung)Way down in the hoooooooooooooole..."

A lot is missing from this act but I bleeped rather than taking out a whole chunk which I also did
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