#fallfromgrace
Don’t plead like Biebs
Timbaland was right
Too late for "sorry"
Can’t erase the blight
Your apologies
Might seem polite
But all your white lies
Have been brought to light
Selfish transgressions
Brought this plight
Upon your own life
Despite the height
Of your own success
Now it seems so trite
As they kick you out
Into the cold, dark night
Mistakes explode
Like dynamite
As your life ignites
Failures burn so bright
Crashing down in fury
Dead meteorite
You feel the pain
Your enemies delight
Nowhere to hide
Your shame in plain sight
Adrenaline surging
Now it’s fight or flight
So just take a sec
Sit down, rewrite
Reset your future
Set yourself upright
Your values and actions
Gotta reunite
Redemption’s hard
No way to expedite
It’s gonna hurt
But hang in tight
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 7:30 PM UTC
I yurn for you to fill me up
With the knowledge that he forbade.
To touch me;
Soothe my soul in such a way that i am condemned.
See me with your ravenous eyes;
Wild and searching from the woes of damnation.
I beg of you to lead me in this valley and show me where to lay.
Guide me;
Sway me in the darkness and bury me inside perdition.
Hold me down with lustful longing;
Dominant and surging through the hands of greatness.
I need you to choke me with your forked tongue.
Whisper in the air;
Taunt and tease me with promises of sweet rapture.
Build me up under your lips;
Allow me to splinter and shatter in the aftershocks of your kiss.
I desire the release that you have promised me.
Soak me;
Drown my sorrows in your philosophical misdeed.
Promise me;
Write an ode to me and swear it must be prophecy.
I crave your full undivided attention.
Moan in my ear;
Sweet talk me with your biblical verse and *** loudly for all to hear.
Gut me;
Cut me and fill me with your untainted seed and know that ill only bleed for you.
I have fallen from grace and i have done it all for you.
I demand you tell me that you dont love me too.
Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 4:08 PM UTC
how nice it must feel to just simply wake up refreshed
after umpteen years of innocent sleep
where you were blinded by passing headlights as you took the long way home
drunk off milkshakes and water bottles and german cologne
and you wake up fresh faced in wrinkled white sheets
and the neighbor lady’s wind chime is calling your name
and the sun shakes your hand and welcomes you in
and pours you a drink as the next dream begins
how nice it must be to just simply turn around
to run your hands over pictures of your past and smile
to wave at your decisions, laugh at your consequences
clean as summertime white picket fences
how nice it must be to breathe in a breeze instead of bleach
to admire the etches in your palms instead of hiding them with yellow rubber gloves
to spend what’s left of your young years free of regret
and not scrubbing a split second out of the carpet
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC