"doppelganger" poems
I fight with my twin.
You struggle with the scales.
We’re both torn this time
and love won’t prevail.
My opposite, my doppelganger, my sister
And you can balance but it won’t fix us.
What you seek I can’t give away easily
and what I need you won’t give to me.
My what an astrological web of disaster we have woven.
Think fondly of me, my Libra Lover.
Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 4:59 AM UTC
Cockcrow harbour:
the gulls whining like tethered dogs
about rooftops
paliophobic cars and
grounded vessels..
Look:
on the hoary horizon
a glaucous strip
beguils
with backwater.
Not putting on a show
the frigid sea benumbed..
Easily,
with a tail of emerald jelly
skim a vanishing lane off that
lustrous sheet
and watch
the trailblazing mainland
scuttle.
Now,
Only scattered dreaming is possible.
In it's bachelor pad,
cradling over crinkles,
away from the meretriciosness
of validating the real by sharing it,
THE WIND
blusters off any veneer.
Here,
stale but spry,
fare your way around the inoffensive isle
to it's most shyest of harbours:
a mouth full of silver
saving it's breath.
The windows facing the sea
seem
black & white,
their wooden frames hooked to the wind,
the splattered gulls meow
your name
in a way
that's
personal.
Of course comes to mind.
The pines
are demanding a visit,
They're whispering
so you can hear them,
each as different as every snore,
these pines know
how to grow in the sand
and still reach for
the Nimbostratus with heads in unison.
The spaces
between their trunks illuminating
the blazing needles
raining down
painting the ground
familiar
to your lover's
skin texture:
Feel her closeness
from jilted borderwatchtowers
as she speads her mire
like no one's watching:
weedy and sugared
with bellflowers,
the waves in her shallow armpit
billeting a pair of white swans:
demurely they float
sometimes as pillows and sometimes
as question marks..
Go ask the seasoned locals,
they say the bones she parked
when she let her ice sheet melt
are portals
to her noble underbelly.
Hidden in the woods
reminiscent of your heart,
the red
tank-sized stone
is sealed,
but what the lighting reach cannot
the rain shall sluice apart
dumbly.
And though her hair has
come to be
the moss
black and hoarse
as sailor's beard,
there is still time.
The void says
her noisy neighbour is nothing
to die for.
The theadbear car with absent doors
incites
to drive her
in reverse gear
to the first few
days of holidays:
her golden locks a-blaze,
her arm around your
hind-sighted doppelganger.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 2:20 AM UTC
*Meeting up with the dragon
was a page
out of an intergalactic adventure;
shaking hands with
doppelganger, it was.
He insisted that he is
still a mythical animal
just don't exist in real,
he was so apologetic
to the point of being mawkish,
"Don't want to mislead any one
to somewhere, let's be scientific
to think, you took such pains
to make this meeting happen,
which is not the case in real,
do you see me well?
He was in panic, it seemed,
took him in confidence and
made him stay put.
"What's real is a long debate
don't think I am real,
material world could
easily proved an illusion
matter in to energy and reverse
is the story we see here
quantum mechanics will
end all your qualms
everything is in a state of flux
even the scientists are,
sometimes they see black holes
and suddenly they think otherwise,
so the universe is not even
a handful of dust, it's energy
playing fancy dress..."
The dragon looked crust fallen,
"you should have met a dinosaur instead
at least they EXISTED,and Phew, what a variety
much more than a myth, which I am"
"Don't be apologetic, grand father's gift
grandma must have used her fun of imagination
to beget you and raise to such level of popularity
dragon or meerkat, all are fun, like human,
when none exists, but happily present
in mind and on these vast spaces our eyes see,
waiting to transform in to quanta of energy
when time summons, and God play dice.*
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 8:20 AM UTC
Under my bowels, yellow with smoke,
it waits.
Under my eyes, those milk bunnies,
it waits.
It is waiting.
It is waiting.
Mr. Doppelganger. My brother. My spouse.
Mr. Doppelganger. My enemy. My lover.
When truth comes spilling out like peas
it hangs up the phone.
When the child is soothed and resting on the breast
it is my other who swallows Lysol.
When someone kisses someone or flushes the toilet
it is my other who sits in a ball and cries.
My other beats a tin drum in my heart.
My other hangs up laundry as I try to sleep.
My other cries and cries and cries
when I put on a cocktail dress.
It cries when I ***** a potato.
It cries when I kiss someone hello.
It cries and cries and cries
until I put on a painted mask
and leer at Jesus in His passion.
Then it giggles.
It is a thumbscrew.
Its hatred makes it clairvoyant.
I can only sign over everything,
the house, the dog, the ladders, the jewels,
the soul, the family tree, the mailbox.
Then I can sleep.
Maybe.
3.3k
Who should desire
A clear mirror
Of perfect likeness
Lies hideous fear
Look, see what we see
Sad doppelganger
Ethereal clone
Leaning, wall hanger
All flaws magnified
Every evil, too
Simplify ev’ry line
Ever mistake – rue
A mirror well smudged
Truly desired
The traits that are so
Nobly admired
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
wake up in the coffee shop
morning and im the fiend
sippin on anything teamed
we got "mixed and fixer
while i play on elixir"
cross fingers
to count splinters
got more time then long winters
doppelganger and
impostors
hopeless stand
my imaginary children of foster
no one i cant be brought here
ill tell things that are fear
spit acid to show tear
nonchalant
i taunt
cant?
cuz i smell C@__
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
The sand hides the sun.
Through a fog of particulate silica.
Distorted.
For the first time in my life,
I may look upon that glowing
bearing, for minutes straight.
Innards swallow,
That rock it flings,
Paints on the light.
Now the water vapor hangs,
Amongst its spiny rays,
Creating a mist of cloudy haze.
My eyes must seek to,
Penetrate.
Alas they lose this skirmish fray.
The sun cannot hide its specter.
The doppelganger image always,
Dapper and prim.
Amongst the thoughts in rift entrails of brain,
I think i am my brain. I don't think that when, head cut from body,
Shall my soul reside where my heart was;
Instead I may see, conscious, from where the two parted.
Creating a scar from which to view this hazed sun.
Ever notice,
How the eyes,
Are the only,
Place,
You can,
See from...
I can be an Ammonite with many chambers calcified.
Ghost fossil human head.
A ghost in a shell.
My eyes will carve shapes from the clouds.
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
i wander around your territory,
keeping my imprints on your skin.
a sigh of relief and a moan of satisfaction
take you where nowhere you've been.
flicker of my tongue,
the tremble in your voice
move closer,
closer as skin.
the smell of your innocence lingers
in my senses,
the taste of your fear excites me.
the look in your eyes
turmoil in your stare,
the awe in your face humbles my existence.
i a mere mortal in your sight,
a sight of the past.
the past is just a few seconds away.
an eternity will unfold,
walk my path,
uncloak my victim
stand in all your glory.
your presence hungers my foul
reason for living.
my tongue on your skin,
i taste you
you feed me.
your eyes provokes my inner peace.
what do you see?
is it life?
or is it death?
a swift movement,
a tragic death awaits.
my doppelganger sees how you live your life,
while i cant wait how to end it.
the beauty in my voice captivates you.
leading you towards your befall.
you yourself prepared my feast with
your false judgment.
i was never your reason to live
but you were mine.
you cling to my robe the way
you cling to your life.
too late mademoiselle i had your
tombstone made an hour ago.
i undress you,
and taste your love juice one more time.
ecstasy flows down your veins,
you moan in gratitude
i brought you wrath in return.
you cried in a bite-forced.
i smelled life,
i tasted life
but not yours alone.
intriguing i say,
so i sink both fangs deeper.
another blood of total innocence indeed
and it tasted just like mine.
you saw the horror on my face.
you smiled.
you *****
you let out a soft dying laugh.
delirium hits like a speeding car crashing.
i have killed my own
you deceived me.
you knew my planned deception all along
and countered on your own.
you ***** old hag!
you let yourself get killed
so i could **** him.
a creature of my own,
floating inside your womb.
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 6:17 AM UTC
I pass her daily,
she's just like me,
but not me.
She is dark, a ghostly shell,
some alter ego
deliberately mimicking me;
Or is this my own dark soul,
the darkened wretched me?
There she goes again.
but this time she notices me in the passing.
Will she ponder the same questions as I?
Mar 4, 2011
Mar 4, 2011 at 8:55 PM UTC
She told me to
"Imagine a safe place",
a quiet place, somewhere to go
when the fog is at my feet.
But everywhere I went was
crowded with doubt
and a lingering loitering
presence on my shoulder,
come out from the fog to
hurl accusations and taunt.
I can only assume
it's a he on my shoulder,
an enigma,
my father's doppelganger
come to dredge my mind
of all the **** he dished out
when I was a child,
and feed it back to me again.
I tell her I'll need more tools
and stronger ideas.
So she gives me a seat at
the head of the table
where my ****** committee meets,
and a gavel to establish order
or bash in their brains.
She arms my dreams
with weapons and courage,
gives me REM when I'm wide awake.
We fashion a furnace of love,
hot enough to vaporize the
cold darkness pouring into my gut,
customized with levers and pulleys
to push and to pull in the fight.
We tally
Alpha and Beta waves,
trained and retrained,
hard coded messages
sanded smooth by repetition.
*Through it all I give too,
and what I give is all I can give,
it is the warmth of what enslaves me,
and the thought of letting it go….
Well.... lets not go there right now.*
In the long run I'm not sure that
any of it will be enough,
I am weakened by the war.
But occasionally there
are shiny spots that simmer,
You see,
I may have found that place,
the place she first told me to find
way back at the beginning,
the place to feel safe, although
it isn't really a place per se.
If it were true
I could finally ascend to
where no fog can go.
Where my father's voice
cannot be heard,
nor the ghosts I grew
up with.
A place of love and honesty,
where my furnace would sit idle in awe.
There is a picture of us
on our bedroom wall.
It is the perfect depiction of
all that is safe for me.
I look at your smile
and I see peace.
Nothing can penetrate
your radiance,
you are everything
I've never had,
double layered and
impenetrable
by all of it.
By all of the ****
I am learning to go there
when the fog is at my feet,
and the ghosts are in my ear.
When the accusations come
I can escape there with you,
and together we can drown them out
if only for a little while.
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC
Going once the
cruise_______*
One specific lover
What do we uncover
More advice going
twice in (2)
You see an
unexpected
attraction
Like twins with
two heads exact copy
Say Action your movie part
"The offer you cannot refuse"
You cannot duplicate her heart
With another Flower rose
Another heart obligation
"Alaskan Huskies
Twin Adoption"
Two heads better
than one snipper
She- Wolf surf and turf
Mexico taco, at the gulf
Her green planet thumb
Mount Fiji we climb
Right force ruler the heart
divider the duplicate lover
"To Reproduce" over the
a million light-years
duplicated love tears
Years we treasured
It's in our duty
Congregated
United we stand
Imagine the world
stopped to be buried
The duplicate became a
twin maid of honor
She lost her duplicated purse
"Twin Identity"
Doppelganger
Your heart couldn't
hold on____
Any longer
To reproduce the same
forbidden fruit
voiceover singer
The rare find
someone with a
Giving heart
Having a double
scotch doing the part
The pirate wearing
Eye patch*
Twofold twice the gold
one heart match
Poems true believers
One is the snitch
To love life singles or doubles
subjects to catch up in triples
The full house
what a spouse
Your boiling minds
Twice around the
coffee house
The day she or he
was born
The comfort
comes with love
Fire eye lit bedding
(Forever young
double wedding)
You're the one so
gifted hearted*
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 3:00 PM UTC
Eyes, my eyes
Wavering in the murky water
Move and my doppelganger follows
I stare and I stare back
Although, I know what I can't feel out loud
I stare thrashing in the cold water
Rage filling me and causing unseen waves
The water is still, unmoving
I keep watching
I become stone, dread filling my watery eyes
I watch as my hands cover my face
I blink
I watch and I watch back
Nothing
I smile and I smile back
On the edge of the shore I know
that I am collected
I am peaceful
The water knows who I am and understands
I am unwavering.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
My Doppelganger holds secret negotiations with my Avatar.
Slicing up the available territory by flipping a coin. Apparently,
I can see a me for myself if I happen to be in Somalia next Monday.
But that’s the Avator talking. Doppelganger is betting on Seattle.
I am eavesdropping, sitting around in my underwear. They
think I am unaware because I can’t see them, but they are
impossible without me.
Goethe, Shelley and John Donne are in the next apartment
huddled over some broken poems each had written on
the mirrors. No mistakes were made. No reflections.
They get to see themselves out of the corner of one eye,
for up to nine seconds which is like a lifetime to remember.
Yet the acrid smell of Neitzsche emanates from dark corners.
Sturm und Drang be ****** Neitzsche is convinced
no one has ever looked like him, but he does suggest
a parallel universe.
Abe Lincoln, a latecomer and unlikely participant, picks up a few pointers.
He knows full well that what he saw was not a reflection. And he rode that train
all the way from Pittsburg. All those windows...
And, yes, KA, the spirit double, the Egyptian Goddess, goes in **** as the
Greek Princess and shows up as Helen to tease Paris of Troy.
How can you not believe that? For Goddess sake, she helped end the Trojan War.
I have a lot of time on my hands. I don’t get out much.
Ava and Dopp came by just to let me know I’m still around.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
Lauryn Hill is going to jail for not paying her taxes,
a fate that would surely befall us all if caught.
She argued to the judge that since her ancestors
were slaves, our economic system was imposed
on her against her will, invalidating her burden.
Pay your ******* taxes, you ignorant bigot.
When your ancestors started making money,
they started owing taxes. This is a feature of
society called "equality."
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
An unrequited love that still offers a seemingly patronizing hand of rapport
Is just another way to say "friend zone"
But you'll be dancing in the end zone
After you finally pay your student loan with money from the job you needed a degree to get which called for the loan in the first place
The salt has spilled off the Lazy Susan
Throw it over your right shoulder
Is this my alter ego?
Or do I have a split personality
Maybe this is my light skinned doppelganger
I've got to get these bats out of the belfry
I've got claustrophobic, roided-out butterflies in the pit of my stomach
Busted paper thin lips
A blood sport
Stop it from clotting
Vaccinate me
This vacuum is a rare find
The national demographic is going through culture shock
Assume a surname
Put on the gargantuan pennant
Go to the pulpit and beg for penance
Gridlock
The paleophone is cracked
Study the topography
And pay the bus fare
The squatters who are on borrowed time
Take a swig from the half empty bottle
After searching their whole lives for an even break
But are forced to cut ties and make a clean cut from society
All the lent hands and ears
Are lodged between ungratefulness and exclusive pity parties
Sweet nothings and forget-me-nots
Do a clean sweep
It's imperative to have a method to your madness
A portrayal of eccentric narcissist
Painting self-portraits
While on some kind of wonder drug
Longing for some moral support
Double-dealing
Double crossing
A hypocritical traitor
Who has the right away
I will watch your blood coagulate around the bullet holes
As your body goes into Rigor mortis
I will commit this picture to memory
I would have bet dollars to doughnuts that it wasn't you
But who wudda thunk it?
It's all just an impromptu turn on a dime
That encumbers you with cabin fever
When you're on display in a human zoo
Where unproductive bull sessions are a dime a dozen
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
i like having you around
you always have my back
i could steal
beat
pillage
****
and ******
and i know you'll always be there for me
you're my muse
my confidant
my partner in crime
you build me up
push me
with your skewed ideas of nirvana
but i follow
because you know what's right for me
and you will protect me...always
for you are my alter ego
you are the warrior that has captured my mind
insanity
living in your darkness
gives me an escape
helps me reach my true desires
for i'll always have you
to defend me
my friend.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
Would you scratch my scalp
twirl brown speckled fingers
twixt ever-lightening
locks, me myself and I
we fight over you
give us a taste
of what we've sweat over
if what i want is on this
decreasingly fertile rock,
possibility of my painful
atrophy, isolated,
dissolves
into shimmers
that make me kawaii
when i check doppelganger
in silver glass
because you
shattered dreams sprinkled
iridescent on bronze ivory
glitter blush for the creature
(in some other word or two,
you're my breaking point)
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
We are the lost generation
One would say we strayed
If there was a path to stray from
To be lost, to not know one's whereabouts is tough
When one doesn't know themselves.
A gap year will solve that problem
Or two
Or eight
Perhaps a gap life might be more appropriate
More appropriate than 3 years of falsities we label as education
Three years of losing oneself
-the self one never owned-
For instant gratification, excessive debauchery
Live now, pay later
In full, with interest
They never warn you of the interest
At some point undergo transformation,
Don't so much follow as pursue your passion as a detective seeks his criminal
Craft your philosophy and prepare for war where
Freedom fighters clash with crashes of the sharpest steel
Shame really,
To be fighting when one does not know what they are fighting for
The world burns and we feed the fire without thinking
The lights are on
Yet we are shrouded in darkness
Cast over by the shadows of our possessions
Acquired as one collects stamps or stones
Stones more like, for they will be too heavy to take with us
As will the paper our degrees are published on
As will the words I scribble furiously, daily
All because my work is by extension, me,
And so with it comes purpose
A bumpy, undefined path for me to trek on
For me to struggle and strive for an invisible finish line
Sans friends and family
Without anyone to shield me from my own monstrous thoughts
Is it fear or control which prevents me from action?
Perhaps a more suitable question for those who do
Take action
Seeing evil, hearing evil, contributing to it
Ignoring it
Ignoring the little boys and girls plucked from their homes
Or forced into silence by the ones they trust
Or watching countries storm their neighbours for no reason
Or even the most ordinary,
Where families are ripped apart and vows are broken
Where we cut and chop and mutilate our flesh to become someone's doppelganger
Where heart, honour and respect mean nothing.
Don't tell me money started this
When evil existed before money
Long before we didn't know who we were
Are.
We are the lost generation
And though I don't know how to be found
Maybe the solution
Is to find each other.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
The parking lot beeps know how to creep,
Creating the jingle and jangle
That hit her with the smooth cutting angle,
The rhymes and the wishes
Intruding her like the farmer farming fishes,
Pound and slit until she can’t fully handle,
With strength in her arms burning out like the candle
Once lit as her ribs crunch from the pull of the mador,
Crushing her with Frankenstein's failure far greater,
Her eyes missed more misinterpretation
Of her admission with intense hallucination,
While the divorce of her lighter burns the constrained homicide,
Although it didn’t stem from her sister’s suicide,
Contradiction?
She’d say it was an addiction,
Death isn't what she grew up to fear,
What’s that? There’s more despair?
Is it the systemic collapse that she can’t bear?
Trunks click open with a cluster of blunts,
Puffing the herb anytime she wants,
Insanity spawns a circumstantial sport,
Which she crystallized quenching some support,
From the bubble of her family she couldn't help but pop,
While begging the janitor to mop
The puddle of horrific insensual
Desires that end up so sensual,
Sprinting to the finish line in her own ordeal pace,
Winning an irreplaceable
Prize for finishing in fifth place,
The doppelganger can’t even comment
On the records of her CD retching as she continues to *****
There she blows before you know,
‘Tis no way they could tiptoe
Around this drear deep-end **********
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC
he craves online hook-ups.
But this isn't me
nor am I that intrepid
a torrent trampoline
on wireless ether engines
cyber silver surfin'
zone on / in .nets & .coms
searching fiber-optics for sight
browsing rooms of M4M / in-fantasized delights
an itch to fix
to sit transfixed
as if
subliminally attached
umbilically
digitally digitized digi-man
to a electronic felatio soundtrack
yet all the while detached
lurking duplicitly
reading pretend profiles explicitly
for *** sexified mind
dreaming up new fetishes
with misspelled texts
tandem testimonials as if written
by a Compaq-machine-head
Microsoftened lust
currents electric now as we turn into dust
with iBooks & faraway Dells on our laps
scrolling lists for Adams
status' with "anything goes"
remonstrating our vicious cycle
alive & blank with un/trust
gone viral...
this isn't me.
where is the warmth
of feelings, emotions,
malleable and infallible / love??
I am not as talented
as he
to be in two places at once,
but he
has the many faces
and genius of multiple personalities
Cybil
facets
of sabotage with Mommy Dearest grace.
Beautiful strangers his acquired
taste...
he says it was not him
(doing ****
my rage has only one trait.
two eyes (once wide asleep in the lies)
and velvet-rope-burned
wrists
my feet learn to fly
my heart un-breaks
my wings reanimate...
he has too many faces
doppleganger hatred
none to care for or embrace
When did I go blind,
and leave my many strengths?
Where do I now
again
begin??
(The rubble or the sin?)
Every night adieu
Every day anew
once again...
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
I’d like to meet the mirror image of myself,
someone who feels the opposite
of everything I’ve felt,
a girl who’s done everything right,
and has never changed her mind
about what she wants.
I’d like to meet her just to see
how much happier than me
she really is.
I’d like to meet someone
who could have been like me,
but made all the right decisions
and turned out differently,
a girl who’s not afraid
and makes the most of everyday,
so I’ll know it’s possible.
I’d like to meet someone
who’s happy as she is,
who feels completely comfortable
inside of her own skin,
and doesn’t make herself feel bad
for every flaw she has.
Maybe she could tell me how she does it.
I want to meet the person
I could have become
if I had not been so afraid
and did all the things I wish I’d done,
and I want her to say
that I am still okay.
That I turned out alright.
Feb 8, 2010
Feb 8, 2010 at 3:13 AM UTC
I think that I once met myself
upon the roadside coming back.
So sure was I that it was me
I almost had a heart attack.
Another time I thought I saw
myself reflected in a pane
of glass upon a garden skip.
It almost served to drive me sane.
Then there was that occasion when
I found beside me in my bed
a doppelganger of myself.
Was I alive? Or was I dead?
How can I know what lies in store
except by taking one step more.
One step to face in the unknown
what I had mastered heretofore.
But possibly this other me
is simply also hesitant
and also chooses to ignore
what really is self-evident.
I’m waiting for the day, you see,
when opening a door, I pass
into a room where bygone me
is stepping through a looking glass.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
Father, I have sinned.
Ive compelled myself a mate and painted my body gold, pure and metallic and let him hang me around his lacey neck like a chained noose.
Father, i have sinned.
Ive disappointed my appointments and made allies with my enemies. Ive lied to get to where i am and i stand legless because of it.
Father, i have sinned.
Ive cut open skin and got drunk from the blood, letting it trickle down my breast, wearing it like a jacket, using it tirelessly to keep me warm during my winter
Father, i have sinned.
I scripted cursively with my left hand and pointed accusingly with my right. Ive fought like a thinker and forfeit my heart.
Father i have sinned,
I loved without thought.
I have slept in my ***** sheets and bathed in my discretions, Father, this bed is not big enough for our overexhausted lessons.
Father, please forgive me
for i have sinned in spite of the sun. Ive predicted light for the losing side and because of that,
i've won a temporary victory.
Ending with, not surprisingly, my mother clawing me senseless,
her knuckles blistering my jabbing jaw.
She said, "I never thought id see a side to you much darker than i ever saw."
Now she looks to me much older, decrepit and disgusted, and i look to her a doppelganger of the man that left her faithless.
Father, i have sinned and unwittingly beg for your conviction. But your faith is what left my mother living breathlessly without a face. A face hauntingly well known. but if i keep on keeping on this sinning, a face just like yours ill own.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC
Tribal paint flickers
as illumination passes by
packed platforms of private souls
spilling into peripheral vision
Saturday nights
create fresh perspective
on unconscious thoughts
An unpulled can
of tired, bow-tied Spaniards
and white-clad partygoers
Tinney earphones
thrusting Brooklyn's finest
99 Problems aren't on my mind
but in my (un)willing ears
And I saw you on the street
42nd I'd say
I was filling my lungs
with the poison,
beautiful,
you showed me
You walked past me
just another stranger
you in 10 years time
They say everyone has a doppelganger in NYC
I haven't seen mine
but she's seen me
and Brooke saw her too,
rolled up Levis and a frown
you looked as beautiful as you always did
but clean of everything
you'd ever touched
or is yet to touch you
because nicky clouds
my thoughts lift me higher
I wanted to tell you that
I pray now
But I let you walk by
and disappear
leaving me with myself
coffee spilt from matches
got twisted and wouldn't light
I'm one handed,
crowded city but you're not here.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 8:41 PM UTC