pension 7h

tock tock tock,
the minute hand has been moving faster than before
tock tock tock,
we only have twenty four hours to seize

we walk faster than the silver-haired masses
we maneuver through the crowd
with heavy bags in our hands
ear pieces stuck in our ears
while our eyes glued onto our phone screens

how fascinating

on the other side, they stroll cautiously along the road side
jerking at every beep and horn which the monstrous vehicles sound
oh look
one down
let's wait two minutes and another will be down

our apathy is disgusting
our fixation with the present and future are revolting

what has happened to pure and genuine relationships
what has happened to the human qualities which we innately own
nothing
nothing is shown
because we do not care about
the lost, the forgotten and the aged.

I long for the past, but in a blink it's lost

the moments that were, now, the moments that aren't

the here and now slips into yesterdays & yesteryears,

every delicate second no longer in my hands,

passes between my fingers to fall on my soul

yesterday was last year; last year was last decade

I'm old before my time, swallowed in the hourglass of life

Most people who are 22 spend their life looking to the future and what life has in store for them. But I feel like I've already seen and lived too much, so I dwell on the past.
Mims 1d

Do not say,
I didn't try to steal the moon for you,
Because did you ever,
Even look at the stars for me?

I tried to lasso the moon for you,
And you couldn't even glance at the night sky to see it.

just another wave, just another scare
under the willow tree shivering to your name
looking for those arms
in the warmth of the day
everything was taken away
as fast as the pouring rain
not a minute too soon
not another word spoken
roaring and tearing like the broken
of impossible winds and dreams and water
shattered like the storms’ passing
every drop, every pour was unending

i wrote this for a friend a couple of years ago

You were laying in a bathtub
And all they did was wash you.
You were alone.
Bruised toes hanging of out the white porcelain.
Your hair, damp and thick with mildew, dripped off my fingers.
And you were alone.
All they did was wash you.
Blue lips, puckered as if to say your final speech
That everyone around you left you alone,
Entirely alone.
Until the only one left to find you,
Was me.

There’s something sadistic about cigarettes,
and the way they fondled your hands
like the way you used to fondle me,
hard and rough.
There’s something sadistic about the way they kill,
slow and steady,
like your words and how you purred them into my ears.
Their smell, coats and lingers for what can seem like years.
Just like your Old Spice body and strawberry scented hair,
because 4 years later the scent sticks to my nostrils
like a child clings to their mother.
There’s just something sadistic about the way a cigarette can look so damn good on you.
A fashion accessory, licensed to kill

YOU LED ALL CAPS KIND OF LIFE
EVERYTHING WAS SET ON FIRE AND YOU WERE JUMPING THROUGH THE HOOPS
YOU NEVER THOUGHT IT WOULD BURN YOU,
YOU THOUGHT EVERYTHING WAS GOING TO BE OKAY
BUT YOU DANCED WITH THE FIREY LANDSCAPE
AND JUGGLED WITH THE UNCERTAIN FLAME
BUT I WAS TOO WEAK TO EVER FOLLOW IN YOUR SCORTCHED PATH
YOU BURNED EVERYTHING
INCLUDING YOURSELF
TILL ALL YOU WERE WAS EMBER,
LAYING BEFORE THE FEET OF EVERYONE.
EVERYONE, WHO EVER WRONGED YOU
AND EVERYONE WHO BURNED YOU
TILL YOU WERE NOTHING

you remind me of a certain someone,
someone who i was close to like no other,
who caused me so much pain and stress.
exhaustion is a mess and I won't do that to myself again.

why would i put myself in a situation that i've been through before? i won't do it, not when i've already met the end of this road in my past. the road surrounded with wildfires, i barely made it through.
Story 4d

I AM THAT HOUSE
in your recurring dreams

I AM THAT HOUSE
the one you are always running from
yet never entered

I AM THAT HOUSE
full of old-things well-loved
crooked and cursed by the neighbors

I AM THAT HOUSE
the white one rubbed grey
paint peeled away
sighing at the crossroads

I AM THAT HOUSE
my creaks and groans so familiar
you know exactly where to step
to go unnoticed

At the crossroads
I AM THAT HOUSE
Paint peeled to grey
Never entered
I AM THAT HOUSE
Always running away
Unnoticed
I AM THAT HOUSE
Of familiar steps
Crooked and cursed
I AM THAT HOUSE
Well loved by the neighbors
Ablaze
I AM THAT HOUSE
In recurring dreams

I am that house.
You're back here again.
The door is open.
Won't you come in?

The fountain drinks,
A fad back in the ages past,
Candy bars and coca-cola,
Sundae bars and orange soda,
Summer days in sky blue cruisers,
With their woman on their arms,
And cigarettes in their mouths
An age like many others,
Only to be remembered fondly,
By aging old men,
and those who,
They share their stories with.

Next page