*** is now an expectation A first date kiss long gone If I don’t decide to go in Any relationship will be forgone And if I do decide To go against better judgement I become a ***** You become the incumbent Holding reign over texts And new meet up dates I cross my legs And patiently wait To be treated like **** Because I gave it up too soon But if that makes me such trash What does that make you? I’d rather be alone Than play this game Show some respect I’ll do the same.
Black chair floats Rolls over fractured fabric Dots of blood on pin pricked fingers Gulps of water from faded plastic An unkept landfill of cancer Fills the black ashtray on the table Empty it and fill it again That’s when I might be able To peel off my clothes Flinch hard from hot water Scrub the sin Then scrub a little harder Don’t even bother The mirror is the same As it was the day before Just reflections of shame Brush hair curl up Blankets cover the violence Cry until they stop Faded eyes in silence Just a short small break From the deafening sound That blares in my brain When I just walk around.
Everybody wants their purpose Like there’s only one Like circumstances don’t change And purpose remains on the run Five years ago I knew what my purpose was And today I still know What my purpose does It shifts to the time To the here and now Then was different The future is a blind somehow If I know my purpose changes To the place I now sit I can sit still in peace Knowing I finally found it
An angel and demon Sit on each shoulder They’ve grown to be friends As I’ve gotten older The proverbial good and bad Have intermixed their beliefs The devil’s on his knees The angel becomes a thief So I no longer have That beside ear calm Just arguing opinions No sideline psalm I’m even more confused Than I was before they came Darkness now matched with light I’ll never be the same
I’ve tried every box, every brand, every store. It’s 2018; We make technological advances galore. We make phones that recognize people's faces. There’s cars that drive On their own to places. We have implants for hearing to give those in silence some sound. And I bet we hold some of the best work in a secret lab somewhere underground. With all of that said, there’s something way out of order if I can still never rip the cellophane without destroying the cardboard corner.