There’s a halo
Over the horizon
Where the wind blows
Up into the mountains
Yea she’s sweet though
Baby’s got them honey bones
I get a taste of
the sunrise on her breath oh
Mmm mmm mmm mmm
It tastes like starting over
Mmm mmm mmm mmm
Awake from golden slumber

As she whispers
feel me from the inside
go deeper
tell me that I feel alright
yea she's sweet though
Baby's got them honey bones
yea she's sweet though
Baby's got them honey bones

In the end,
nothing really matters
https://soundcloud.com/universalthrum/ft-zak-newkirk
Is not equivalent to a broken leg.
Who came up with that analogy?
Someone who hasn't experienced either
Seems the only probability.

It's far more akin to a giant spasm,
Contorting your leg against your will,
And stopping it seems highly unatural,
And each doctor prescribes different pills.

Nobody has fluctuating broken legs,
Or fractured limbs that cause them to count
The precise number of steps they take,
And despair if it's the wrong amount,

Or healing bones that turn reality
Into hallucinatory nightmares,
Or make you stay awake all week,
And start berating chairs.

But the worst of that analogy
(It drives me quite insane!),
Is that broken legs are quick to heal,
And cause a lot less pain.
Another rough one- will I ever finish it? Who knows!
Aching bones, morning soreness
Hit the alarm, ignore the snooze
5 am my body aches, it begs for sleep
I must continue, fight this pain
Even when it hurts I must find a way
This pain I must get through

Set after set
I lift metal, jump hurdles, curl bells,
Aching bones speak to me
begging me to give up
Ignore that last set, try again tomorrow

Here I go, knees shaking, back aching, palms sweating, fingers swollen, head spinning
I lift that last set because I am a warrior, a soldier, a fighter and not a quitter
Woody Aug 1
The unnatural light
on this last dusk of July
sends the grackles
into the cedars
rattling their wings
in the evergreens
making a sound
like Ishmael did
casting his bones
around the deck
of Ahab’s ship.
Meditating in the carnage,
my core's cyanide became
warm milk before bed. My carcass
coexisted in inconsistent comfort, that
safety untouched like internal feelings.
Unstable caramelized eyes watered down to a
wary hazelnut from lack of love, the way the
phone screen glows white to gray at 4 AM.
Aching in agony; pins and needles
prick my bones tonight, as
my mouth is sewn with graphite-
I love using metaphors, similes, etc for poems.... This one took an odd turn...
All feedback is welcome!
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