She loved the world too easily,
She had no way of knowing
That life will wait to strike you down
When your soft side is showing.
She gave of self, such sacrifice
And when little else was left,
Twas cast aside most heartlessly
Left broken-down and so bereft.

Now bitterness her sword and shield
She wields with silent fervor,
And keeps her love from light of day
And those who don't deserve her,
And trust, it seems, the stuff of dreams,
She's buried far too far down,
In self-defense, it makes no sense
To ever let your guard down.

She has forgotten how to love
As she did way back before,
Before heartache had worn her down
Until she could take no more.
Perhaps someday she'll find a way
Her heart can again be free,
Til then, trust seems the stuff of dreams
Of some faded yesterday.

Dare I relinquish all control
For the sake of a story not yet told
Of lust and love
And mushy stuff
To be yours forever to unfold and thus behold?

Trapped inside a prison,
Of lack of things to do.
I’d rather shoot myself than live,
In walls of painted blue.
A dartboard on the wall,
A bookshelf and a bed.
Yet I’ve done it all before,
I just wish my walls were red.
If I were somewhere else,
With the wind in my hair,
Would this boredom go away?
Or would I stick to my chair?
I blame the dullness on life,
But it doesn’t come from trees.
I scream at walls  to entertain,
While I watch my laughter freeze.

“we break things not just as a means of release but also to see
some other thing broken aside from ourselves.”*

You asked me how
I got my hand broken
And I told you it’s
because the walls aren’t
getting any weaker

While I,
I am tired of trying hard
and I’m too worn out to fight

I am fed up with
all the things
I used to love

so I’ve been thinking ’bout
taking my life
but I see the walls
are all around
and I get the urge
to let it out

and so i do…

If I can no longer speak,
the walls would
for me;

they’d tell you a story
on how I turn
into something else
when I’m sad,
and how they stop me
when I’m not
in the right mind
and they’d tell you about
these little scars I have,
and all of the frustrations
I’m keeping inside.

You asked why and
I told you,
’cause they hear me,
when no one else will
and they feel it all,
every inch of my skin
when I lay it on them

so if walls could speak,
they’d tell you how I
hurt them
to hurt me
every single night.

The spaces between the silence
The absence of your presence
There you stand, too tall
In the crowd of my defiance

Keeping it real our heads held high
Extracting the blue longing essence
We build the walls staying in dark
Blocks of reality cemented with distance

We shed each other like second skin
In the act of withdrawing assurance
Now the idol dominoes fall in synchrony
In the wind of emotions with eloquence

The doors forever closed and windows jammed
Locked out of endless comforting luminance
While the journey lasts a clock ticks ahead
Lingers the fumes of  evocation fragrance

his eyes glared at my soul
wondering what dwells inside
or how it would shrivel
after the rigors of winter

his lungs and liver
were worn out
every after sky scrappers
were created

he walked everywhere
wearing his belief
that two people
are only meant to last
for a few bottles of beer
two shots of *****
and the human bodies
are not made for the long run

i'm building the walls higher
than it was since the last time
every time i realize
that this could be it
this could be the daydream
but could also be the nightmare

let your waterworks flow
your wall have held longer than expected
the cracks are visible while the pressure grow
your disguise was maintained and almost perfected

Now the imperfections are exhibited
subsequently and perfectly
attention to your cracks was prohibited
as the weeds in them grew abundantly

on demand when lovers need wall to lean on
but you had pain that demanded to be felt
crumbling walls is something you dream of
but you kept hope for others like church bells

its time to let your walls weep and plummet
its your turn to release pain and fears
remember this and keep these tears in a bucket
its turn to shed your tears

-t.m & mcdonald tsiie

My inner Trump is building walls;
defense
from 'fugee thoughts
and outside influence

The borders are now closed.
Nothing's coming through,
not even you

Can you dig?
Or climb?
Or fly?
Up for coup?