#contrived
Longing to be anywhere but here
An endless escape from day
Where the monotony of the morrow disappears
A release from this plague
To my own I must go as I’m tossed into the fold
Amongst the happy faces that seem to shine
Somehow stirs an emptiness in my heart
As I lust after what I search but never find
The days full of hope and love
Two kids grinning ear to ear
Now a bitter decay begins to unfold
As my feelings fade with the passing years
How long must you wait
How long must you hold on
For a dawn that never breaks
Like waves in the passing tide
Now come and gone
Yet it all remains same
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 12:00 AM UTC
"Why don't you write about me?"
I can put any insignificant thing into words, why on earth would I want to do the same thing with you?
I could give you thousands of metaphors of love but it will end with broken hearts on the sidewalk
and I could give you hundreds of synonyms of happiness but it will turn to fear of being alone soon enough
you should now by now that
my writings are not the place for things that I love.
They'll get mangled and die.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 6:20 PM UTC
This is my box,
home to contrived chaos.
I open and close it
many times a day.
Beside my box
are other boxes
bigger and smaller,
all of them surrounded
by an even bigger box.
And if you left this box
you'd see a field
of boxes
sprawling the land
further than eyes can see.
And how odd is it
--the mere idea--
that all these boxes
adhere to this sphere
we reside upon
like a collection
of living magnets.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
There is no objective meaning to life
So how do you expect me to get down and deep
With limited eyes seeing blinders in the corner of my peripherals?
It's residual, I begged to shake these thoughts like snowflakes
in a crystal, they have scattered up and down til I can't
See the image plastered down the walls of my illusions
Confusion? If only that was true, I see more now than I see in you
How can I feel deep and meaningful when all of this contrived highlights
It's all just my brain bleeding, scattered my drip drops of rage
Do they flip flop? The page has hit lift off, I'm out of the realm
of what I knew to be self development hell compelling me
To scatter fragmants of wanton and wear
But see unless I point that out you'd never know it's there
Because I'm supposed to plaster on a smile and feed you lines
that you desire to add meaning to life, or add a voice down the wire
If I sit upon my laurels you'd think that I had nothing new to say or never
thought about abstractions til they bubble and boil to heady
broth overflowing staining the floors screaming "my god make this stop"
I don't wear my head upon my sleeve, I keep my helmet on
So go ahead and think I'm surface level, I also like to be wrong
Talk to your friends, I'm sure they're dark and mysterious
They have such strong perspectives, they're in touch with the furious
I need to voice at all times? Does my bark not befit you
I'm not a dog meant to bark at every meaning that drives through
I take no solace in wallowing in the depth of another
I don't expect you to read this and gain a sense of the other
I'm not writing to bring you a route down back to your soul
Because you're soulless and weary, I don't claim that I have control
We're spinning in the toilet in a chamber of meaning
Whose **** stinks more than others, why lets compare them and eat it
Consuming excretions is all you get from your dealings
Because nothing is deep, when the bottom is fleeting.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC