There seems to be an attitude, regarding rhyme,
That suggests free verse
A better way to waste your time.
Problem is, with meter lost
And structure sent away at cost
What's left is but a soup of sound
That works for some
But for others, hounds.
To me the art lies in the rules, to know the code and sift the pools
And once or twice to bend a straight...
Throw out a line that doesn't scan.
If you make it the point of the whole piece, however,
You can easily **** the whole endeavour.
But that's just me and, taste is taste,
Yet, don't rub free verse in my face
And claim it the right over the wrong.
A dying style or old timed song
Can have a strong effect, I find
Amid the rolling buzz of contemporary lines.

hi he hypothesised
hiding his heart
holding onto hope

lust lingered on his lips
lather lying on his legs
lulling his lungs lightly

tears trickle trails
tolerating treason
to my tongue

unfortunate
uttering useless unapologetic
unexcused excuses

Oh please
I'm bad enough sober
And I don't want to lose who I am
I get high off life
I don't need drugs
To be a happy lunatic
I can find a different escape from myself than substances or inhaling smoke
It's called writing

and I didn't realize it until I had stared out my bedroom window until the storm had blown over, watching countless raindrops begin and end their journey

I noticed the way something so gloomy had its own beauty

and I noticed that just because everything has been painted in melancholy blues and grays, doesn't mean it can't be breathtakingly beautiful

even though those same blues have been painted in my heart, I am still a work of art

and I know that I am just a storm waiting to
blow
over

I told you that night
When the temperature hovered
At 32 degrees Fahrenheit that
Girls like me don't have a god
We are the girls with
Dark cherry lips
Cigarette smiles
That get drugs for free
We break hearts
With no remorse
Vanity is our religion
Always made up for photographs
In thick makeup and black clothes
We worship our goddess Aphrodite
And she gives us the power to be
Invincible

one day you're going to feel beyond your body
a transcendent feeling that your soul cannot utter a word
and your eyes forgot what was real and what was a dream
like there living a story from your childhood books
flying like a fairy or a dragon with flame-throwing breaths
and your hands will fail grasping your body
and then music will flow though the waves and particles of light
travelling in its own speed but you still can see it
like everything is in slow motion
like everything is unreal

but right now,
everything is in your safe zone
the way the things in your room feels like a prison
and the sound of your heartbeat is the only thing your ears could trust
like the doors were locked
the windows are shut, there is no escaping
you've danced your way into your own travesty
and it keeps you feeling, and the feeling is changing
they may say that change is good
but they also lie to your face, nothing is still real
a different kind of sensation of blackness in the middle of the day
emptying, frustrating, wilding

but one day, you will feel special
hope for it, wait for it

Stars pulled from their suspends,
I watched the night bleed onto me.

The moon is just as dangerous to your
naked body,
as it still is to my naked heart;
a misfit artist perched softly in starlight,
reeling in hearts with faulty chambers.

Two aortas and the taste of your neck.

Two empty bottles of red wine
and the dark smothering something
I was never taught could shine.