Boxed so thin
Lasts for years
The season’s stall
Before the laughs
The worst of all
The **** path
A sun burned green
I waste away
While they all wait
For bright Friday.
It’s a metaphor, Brian
I am blind
Sometimes I fall down
Sometimes I break
I've never seen you
But I feeled you and
I know you love me
Jesus with you my heart has bind
You glisten my heart
And glimmered my mind.
There is November
in my eyes, April
in my mind and the heat of August
in my heart.
Wrote in a rush, hope you enjoy!
as the birds fly south for winter
the excavators come home to roost.
they bow their heads to the ground,
wishing for wings to tuck their necks under.
everyone guards piles of salt and twisted metal
brushed cold and golden by the sun.
a boat lifts its arms to the sky,
all rattling chains and gentle, grasping claws.
gentlemen, best prices for scrap here:
all metals, all amounts.
the highway crawls home.
You remind me of the changing leaves in November.
The shine and glitter on the snow mid December.
The soft pound and beat of buckets of rain,
becoming prepared for the blooming in May.
Every single day has not always been a moment to cherish, but without you by my side I would certainly perish.
You’re the shining warm sun on my face in July, and the clear blue ocean which continuously whisks by.
Most days I easily take this for granted,
yet others it’s as if my soul simply demands it.
An intensity that can last a lifetime my feelings for you evolve past one night-shine.
There’s a sharpness in the clouds as the sky turns grey, you’re the moon in dark hours when I go astray.
The malleable Earth to its rigid core,
I find you all around me, within the depths out of reach.
it doesn’t snow here but i feel the cold stinging my cheeks just the same
(it’s good because the leaves don’t fall from the trees. i don’t like watching everything around me die)
my mom doesn’t sleep in my bed and she doesn’t notice the bad days
(at least i’m allowed to cry in peace now.)
the bags under my eyes are more permanent now
(i guess i can only sleep when I’m bleeding.)
The cold familiar chill
of November mornings
now comes with despondent
Sleepless nights on cold
gray sheets of stone.
Tired lovesick limbs
reaching for home.
Thoughts spoken in solemnity
to the dark.
Oh how these nights
they go leaving a yearning
in my heart.
Twenty sixteen And
I am seething and ranting
For what has been done
Two years later, rain
A seedy bus stop, and I'm
Praying I'll arrive
Two completely different, yet equally memorable events, and they somehow both happened on 11/9.
My strange feelings;
you inspire me to write.
Invading my mind day and night.
I love the way you always change;
making me feel happiness,
Let me compare you to November,
a month of dreariness and fog.
A month that seems so long.
A month that makes me lost in my thoughts.
A month where weather in unpredictable.
A month that seems like trouble and dull.
My strange feeling
and much like November.
i want to write
and how it feels beautiful