I'm old too
Im tired of you
It's why my head splits
When you call me
It's why my eyes are hollow
When I look at you
It's why I need escape
So today
A day I've waited for
I stand over you
Finally freed of you
And I can finally speak
One last favour
And let you be remembered
So fondly as I once saw you

Tinted glasses
In a lightless room
She reaches and grabs where she can
But it’s always a shallow effort
Transactional love

But that’s not the love I want to receive
I want to know you trust me
I want to feel you support me
Not take and take and take

I learn to cut the strings for people who are great at wasting my time.
But I mourn each thread of the girl I used to be.
The little girl who hugged lonely looking people in the grocery store.

A wise man once said,
if you want to allow yourself a bread,
you need to know how to sell yourself
when he found my dusty grey shelf.

Young Me asked — “What is it that I need to sell,”

and he responded,

“sell your laugh
with a mouthful of pebbles in your mouth,
then sprawl your wings of a moth
and mimic a butterfly,”

“But, that's All I have left!” Young me screeched -
protecting the only vanity I possessed,
which I put on the market so cheap, so priceless
to those who never will to pay,
but I demanded the bidding too high
to those who gave me
a worthless charity,
a careless pity.

Too much fury
Forgot to tell the jury
This ain't a fair fight
In the dawn of night.

Alone in the cold
Felt my bones getting old
Might've given up
Forgive me,
I let it all in the hands of
God.

i’m not asking you back
i don’t mind where you’re at
don’t wanna go over this or that
i’m just thinking of you

as i think of the times we had
thought stoked embers still glow
we really weren’t that bad you know
making me think of you

knowing time has buried the past
residual feelings still ring true
some things just last and last
and i’m here thinking of you

Zip tie lock your legs- anchor down your stress;
change the fabric address of that nice sunny dress
Body full of blows, skin made of dust; counting on hope,
joy, and sorrow, every after hour of the day’s settled dusk
From telling thin lies from the thick of red lips on a reed,
to all those gears of ideas start to shift away- taking steps
in reverse, when everything is exposed of your old deeds

Tears in the river of tiny ripples to the sound of love;
to be honest it’s an unfamiliar sound- 3,500 mites;
become a float of those ticking ideas. Scrums around the
clock, sharing bread crumbs with old chums— those few
who actually stuck around

As time starts to show, on the flakes of skin, the loss of
strong hairs; you feel much older to a recent picture-
the unfamiliar creature, invisible to so many people
But with a smile, you appreciate all the places you have
been. You must be ready to meet your King…