"cluttred" poems
Blood on my hands doesnt wash clean as that from my mind.
in temptation we did bask for moments in despair I know
all to well.
A fool to imagine a ghost but in a less than empty room.
Sweet girl dont try to see beyond that which laughs befor you.
Im a shipwreck in low tide.
A vessel to long ive tasted time in it's bitter affliction.
A page away from a traggedy a night less in thought.
Behind the mask you'll find no reason.
Strangers we shall remain togather in this bed.
My words nothing more than fragment of a driffters heart.
Black and white images sharp tell stories i do not
wish to share.
Wine glimmers in crystal by the fire's light.
Towards a lesser man you lean to fill a need.
****** of the pen bleeding in thought.
The night's end and a comfort does point without direction.
The shoe if worn isnt all it seem's to be.
Ive cast stones breaking emotions to uncover all
that isnt me.
Sharing less more than friction then with light i'll trace
curves never speaking in my lies truth.
Im a ******* but least im real.
They want a devils fire in trade of a moments
encounter to seethe picture for what it is seldome is as
beautiful as dellusions of a dream.
Moments no matter there timeframe always stay.
like scars there forever on display.
I take pictures only in thought and paste secrets of beauthy apon
my minds cluttred wall.
Whispers of passion regrets I cherish so dear.
Shared a nights velvet inside more than thought.
Although in this moment i share space.
Im never truely here.
And in mornings light just maybe happines in thought.
leaves the warmth in the emptyness behind.
Althougth far from a companion in flesh within memory
you shall exist in this jaded mind.
Feb 3, 2011
Feb 3, 2011 at 4:00 AM UTC
On a sunrise as in a thought.
We are lost for choices become hollow as
the smile becomes a mask.
Shackles cut into flesh trikles down the wrist
traces of the remains of what never shall be.
In a morbid sense i respect the empty hours
and cherish this isolation like mistress
that wait's for my return.
Flesh for canvas painting's in tone's no longer
a direction slowley we drift.
Taken from the scene another will always replace.
As a wheel has no end the start is a mystery
none care to solve.
Why mask reason when insanity we share?
Whom will erase my page?
Only to recreate my line.
Im headed for that slow decline.
In delusion I exist as in darkness
I fade.
A scroll none can see.
A vision seldom shared.
To gasp for air is to strangle apon
life the empty words crash to collect dust
in my cluttred life's floor.
Jan 21, 2011
Jan 21, 2011 at 3:16 PM UTC