#venue
Open up you say
Sure,
I'd love too
If even just for a little something new
A simple change of view
Although to keep this bit of honesty true,
I should tell you,
I don't necessarily care for this solo walkthrough
I'm a little tired of the empty echo in this venue
But,
Allowing someone in isn't worth another self worth issue
See,
One can be a lonely number, but so can two
©2024
Jul 25, 2024
Jul 25, 2024 at 12:34 PM UTC
Always different but somehow not new
That's the only way I can frame this walkthrough,
The day to day I walk through
To look through these eyes is not something I'd wish on any of you
At best it's glitchy level design, I can't get a map I don't fall through
Worst, this is all predestined,
like wrestlin',
Every blow right on queue
A nonconsensual change of view
Not only but mostly due to the view of what relentlessly plays out in the minds eye,
A prisonesque venue
I didn't use faulty glue to put this mess together,
Who would choose this to turn into?
Nobody buddy,
Bad seeds planted in toxic soil is why this shiit you see here grew
This isn't the standard "good plan gone askew"
This miniscule piece of timeline was doomed from debut
In every story there's never enough time to repair before I will predictively have to leave you
At least according to the solo read through
Please forgive me for I loved you the only way I knew how too
My "how-to" example did more damage than I could undo
This is already more than anybody expected me to amount to
These aren't woven excuses, this is off the cuff, from the heart impromptu
I just want you to be the one who doesn't see me like they do
I know that's a lot of me to ask of you
©2024
Mar 2, 2024
Mar 2, 2024 at 6:01 PM UTC
The breath of the wind raises hairs on her neck.
She breathes out a clouded breath of whiskey fire.
Outside the venue, she kicks her shoes, waiting.
Where's the loser on the drum kit?
She knows she blows the set with her absence, but she can't
Stop tapping her heel at the wall, measuring splits in bricks
With her nicotine fingernails.
Where's She? She's such a *****
The whole day closes in, in an instant, night descends.
Her twentieth cigarette dances in a rush to end it,
But her eyes catch sight of the mauve and indigo sky through
Buildings over bridges. Twilight ignites her quarter candlestick.
Outside the venue she kicks her shoes, waiting.
Outside her lonely lungs drink carcinogen
to an eager death with smokers. Cough.
Cough cough cough
Cool as ice.
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 6:54 PM UTC
Quixotes is a dream,
It's a fireplace and songs
Its strong friendship and
beautiful moments shared
It's a thought that guides souls
to a peaceful way
It's wood and brick paint and posters
built with gentle care and loving soul
Quixotes is a world away from the world
where dance is freedom
Laughter and joy are the air we breath
Song a rich tapestry that tells the tale
of how we came to be
Song a river that has flowed thru our lives
in this palace, in this beautiful dream
Quixotes is a sweet jem
sparkling in the sun
forever home for our hearts
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC
Many waiting ruins from yesteryear,
Begin to beg for play, for sharing.
Spaces left hollow, only by lack of play,
By lack of bustling movement.
These ruins wail the aural ecstase,
Like a holographic butterfly effect,
Still there, yet causing memories,
Effecting wanton, screaming for times gone by.
These ruins they lay still, a picture yet,
Passers by gossip the new owners,
Its orphaned attendees are those who scream,
In their minds, in their hearts.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 10:32 PM UTC