Plucking nails like petrified petals,
each one tipped in faded gloss.
And they fall silently,
                 this life is now morbidity.

Wood has splintered within this carcass
of holding, she plucks hair and manifests
a brush,dipping it in the empty socket
                                                        of reflection.

Visual metaphors adorn the now
                                                       sullen silk interior.
Now hanging like drapes in a
         still wind of putrefaction.

Death is a void less experience,
         where one must entertain oneself,
for eternity is a long time to captivate myself
               in a six by two tomb of introspection.

A paper created with little worries
Yet, filled with such a story

A story that’s unheard by most
A story that’s ignored by most

Yet, pens aim at the paper
Without a broad and understanding perspective

And label its story very quickly
With nothing but a single glance.

But how can a paper complain
It can’t label itself after all

The paper just have to wait
For that one very special day

Where a special pen comes along
And labels its story just right.

As I slide on through the wet pavement,
the puddles don't vibrate or shake.
The rain doesn't stall, the drops continue their fall,
each splash pushes my cracks to break.

As I sit under a dark blanket of stars,
I reach out into only empty air.
No one passes by, I don't catch a single eye,
I'm plagued and cursed but can't bring myself to care.

A reward for my lost mind,
a rainbow for the colourblind,
emptiness fills to the core.
Hectic routine clearly outlined,
lip bit and my teeth grind,
I've been hiding in a metaphor.

While I sail through the sky with no safety net,
no bird seems worried for my form,
they don't even blink, they just watch on as I sink,
and they're ready and anxious for my body to swarm.
I always was known as a storm.

A reward for my lost mind,
a rainbow for the colourblind,
emptiness fills to the core.
The sun never showed or shined,
it was stuck, chained in a bind,
I've been hiding in a metaphor.

Once walked along each path
with only untied shoes,
and I felt heartbreak's wrath,
and the old lovers blues,
got the brittle in each bone
and my spine's growing weak,
in the end we all die alone,
but I witnessed a smile in each beak.

A reward for my lost mind,
a rainbow for the colourblind,
emptiness fills to the core.
A mute that never signed,
A soul too late to find,
I've been hiding in a metaphor.

Into the shadows I blend,
never to see light again,
I've been holding doors to my metaphors for you.
Into the shadows I blend,
one day the dark will be a trend,
I've been holding doors, hands covered in sores for you.

Oh I was on fire that night,
now the stars blur in my sight,
I've been holding doors to my metaphors for you.
You know I'm here just like I was then,
I will be there when you come again,
I've been dying and crying on hardwood floors for you.

There's no simile to describe me,
no comparing or analogy,
just one white blank page.
There's no simile to describe me,
no imagery or allegory,
just one lonely cage.

Simplicity is telling someone
                something that they
would only get from reading
              my words.

                    Attuned delicately
within a shroud of metaphors.
             Coalescing neatly in a
sentence
of understanding that they see before them.

no more stars and no more nights
no more oceans and no more skies
can we please cut out with all these poetic nonsense?
someone like you needs no metaphors
because you are already an art in human form