Once more, I try a blue-blotched sun-shot sky
Pierced through and ripped by ruddy morning beams;
The shreds and shatters touch - I stop and sigh.
These broken words are stuff of shattered dreams.
Again, I try a muffled starless nigh,
The moonbeam's kingdom, sunshine's dusky bane;
Stygian chains bind his feeble light -
The rhythm drowns in wordless pain.
This spiked cheval-de-frise of mind impales
The noble steed of thought. Words seep like blood
And rhymes are fools with reckless line-long tales.
I mourn the sacred ground my sense once stood.
Tonight a phantom haunts these barren lands
And steals those fallen souls with icy hands.

Coke on my gums makes the whiskey go down like water
And so I feel nothing

I'll destroy myself alone so nothing can hold me back
So no one says "Enough."
I won't blame you for not saying something
I won't blame you for not "saving me"
How I can't be happy that you're happy

My ancestors are all angels up way too high and probably disappointed in what and who've I become
But still I don't care, they're all dead
Those lucky *****

Daylight breaks and the dawn has come
So I guess I've been up all night

These words are the very breath of my demons
And I haven't heard from an angel in ages
Through the eyes of the beast in me
I've become friends with the abyss
And it has politely invited me in

So another for the writer
Another bottle all by myself
To soak my soul
And drench any dream or hope of a happy life
I might have had left

To whom this may concern,
I wished for it!
I cried for it!
I almost died for it!
Nobody shows me love!
Not from the people I like at least.
I waited all my life.
God would give me no love.
Now I am reckless.
Where can I find her?
I am tortured by it.
Now I can not live without it.
Please someone tell me it is alright.
No one will say anything sincere.
It just plays into my childhood.
At least that is a professional point of view.
I say it is pointless!
Why talk about the past when you do not want to relive it?
I am like anybody else.
I have a fantasy and I want to live it.
I am sorry I am using “it” a lot.
I am just venting.
I have a few things wrong that makes me not go into the public.
I can not take any more.
Yes I have my eye on a few.
The intuition that they do not like me always creeps in.
I was hoping to become a writer too.
I guess there is nothing more to do.

Hands that only reach for you when you turn to leave, whispers that only say your name when you turn up the music and shut the world out...love that only rears it's head in their hearts when you give up on feeling anything beyond hunger; such is the fleeting nature of man. Noah_arkenswagg

Dear You,
If you are reading this
Whoever you are
I just want to let you know
I am so proud of you
you've come so far
and I love what you are writing

keep going

From,
Your fellow Writer

The broken hunch back
Yellow, wrinkled, and withered with age
Not a single fraction of his formerly radiant youth remaining
Choughs up a few more
Words to throw on a page
Desperate to rack up more followers
...

I met Ms. Brooks just today
Her voice sounded so bright
Filled with pain, and hope, and life
showing darkness, not just the light

She sat me down and showed me her tools
They had all kinds of names.
Like "Volta" and "Cacophony"
Not a single one sounded the same

Then she showed me "kitchenette"
Hammered, filed, and whittled to be
it showed a world that stifled any thought
of Hope, or Want-- It startled me

I shook her hand and took her work
Filing it in my brain
Trying to remember all those words
So that the power remains