"lullabyes" poems - Hello Poetry

Please come and find me. Playful whispers in the dark. Who am I calling? I suppose... My baby, Can I call you baby? O sweet lullabyes in the night, Hold me in mild constriction. Squeeze a little bit tighter, love. I don't know how much time I have left. Delusional! Alone on the vacuum. Scratching at air for any oxygen my depraved lungs can find, Suffocating on your love, Choking on your divinity. Oh darling, My sweet crimson lover Dancing on the bridge of death at the break of dawn, You swing me in your arms, Tight tongue behind your violent grin, Your hair grows stars, and your arms bend time, my fatal partner in a tango to the edge of the earth. Heartless as you torture me, Wrench my soul playfully, Foolishly and ignorantly, Pulling my strings. Enacting autopilot daydreams Painting mindless patterns On an inky black sky, Orange slices on existential beach Sparkling warm coast, The cosmos like a bright sunny day above. Bitter ashes mix and churn with the sand, I'm sinking, Quickly, Help me! But you just watch. And I sink until I hit the bottom And there I lie, Falling asleep to as my grief fills the ocean. The zodiac locked fate, Fish and Virgins! Fish and Virgins! Poets and failures, Academics and frauds, Spring and summer to autumn and madness, My eternal indigo diary, My blueberry lipstick, My lavender kiss. Leaving light stains on my love-lorn letters, Mailed to you on Sunday, Delivered along the Milky Way. Waiting emptily, In an empty white asylum, With an empty mind, Waiting for you, My answer, My meaning, My red and blue jumper. Not standing up to stretch, But sitting still, Letting my bones grow stiff, To creak under my weight, Like an old back porch, Made for a pair of old lovers, Desolate, Withered by neglect, Empty. A pointless pray for solace, In hope you will come, My prince of waves, My fifth science, My escape from this never ending sporadic spiral down into the murky, dusty, purple fog of asinine and inane. My peace of mind. My baby. Can I call you baby?

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Mar 27, 2019

Mar 27, 2019 at 8:51 PM UTC

toothache

My goodbye letter, my magnum opus, my grand canyon, my final destination

Please come and find me. Playful whispers in the dark. Who am I calling? I suppose... My baby, Can I call you baby? O sweet lullabyes in the night, Hold me in mild constriction. Squeeze a little bit tighter, love. I don't know how much time I have left. Delusional! Alone on the vacuum. Scratching at air for any oxygen my depraved lungs can find, Suffocating on your love, Choking on your divinity. Oh darling, My sweet crimson lover Dancing on the bridge of death at the break of dawn, You swing me in your arms, Tight tongue behind your violent grin, Your hair grows stars, and your arms bend time, my fatal partner in a tango to the edge of the earth. Heartless as you torture me, Wrench my soul playfully, Foolishly and ignorantly, Pulling my strings. Enacting autopilot daydreams Painting mindless patterns On an inky black sky, Orange slices on existential beach Sparkling warm coast, The cosmos like a bright sunny day above. Bitter ashes mix and churn with the sand, I'm sinking, Quickly, Help me! But you just watch. And I sink until I hit the bottom And there I lie, Falling asleep to as my grief fills the ocean. The zodiac locked fate, Fish and Virgins! Fish and Virgins! Poets and failures, Academics and frauds, Spring and summer to autumn and madness, My eternal indigo diary, My blueberry lipstick, My lavender kiss. Leaving light stains on my love-lorn letters, Mailed to you on Sunday, Delivered along the Milky Way. Waiting emptily, In an empty white asylum, With an empty mind, Waiting for you, My answer, My meaning, My red and blue jumper. Not standing up to stretch, But sitting still, Letting my bones grow stiff, To creak under my weight, Like an old back porch, Made for a pair of old lovers, Desolate, Withered by neglect, Empty. A pointless pray for solace, In hope you will come, My prince of waves, My fifth science, My escape from this never ending sporadic spiral down into the murky, dusty, purple fog of asinine and inane. My peace of mind. My baby. Can I call you baby?