"muzzled" poems
you have a hundred secret names & I am the world’s worst shoplifter. you know what I mean? it’s like it’s 1992 & we’re so happy for cigarettes & de la soul & lightning bugs & **** like that. sometimes I wish you knew someone exactly like me who wasn’t so obsessed with your freckles. they make me hurt like alligator teeth. I want you to be all fists & bruises like tiny sparrows on my face. I want you to be a handgun muzzled into my gut.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 12:40 PM UTC
the snow swirled around
like the carousel of her dreams
unmentionable
attainable
covered in frost
dusty frost
and all she needed was a hammer
to crack open the frightening lock
but she giggled
and her friend giggled
and the snow swirled ‘round
and they found themselves buried
gone
but they could see more
for what surrounded them was
transparency
clear as beaming sunlight
sunlight that shone light on their cheeks
and snow that filled their throats
with pain
under a lactating sunset
and the snow and the snow and the snow
which grew
which perspired
which hardened
which schemed
which never
ever
melted
so that deer tongues--
those sweet animals--
were the only products of fruitless searches
that locked the friends
together
under the brilliance of a muzzled rainbow
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 8:26 PM UTC
Rusted trailers file in,
carrying pop-up roller coasters
and tilt-a-whirls. A tall man, face splashed
with paint, trips in oversized shoes.
His drawn lips smile, but teeth do not show.
A ferris wheel spins in the distance, time
measured in each rotation, the carnival's only clock.
Perched on a saddle, a small tot
rides a stallion, tangling her curled fingers
in its mane, cotton candy stained palms
shaking the reins. The steed chained
to a central post, muzzled in silence,
frozen like his carousel brothers.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
The cold distance between two hearts,
Once beating simultaneously, in unison -
A small disconnection,
A simple malfunction,
Unforeseen miscommunication amidst unvanquished certainty -
Muzzled, tightened grip,
Cloaking an angst shell of a body,
Harvesting repressed emotions,
Alluring a passive tongue -
Releasing an outpour of an outcry in an outburst,
Retribution -
Freedom released from with-in,
Healing of a contorted soul...
Commence.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 1:58 AM UTC
do you have a dark secret
my darling
a terrible brain
instead of nice ***** pink
girl things
you ache for ****** insertions
cutting edges
menstrual swab mouth plug selfies
while you pretend all is well
loving Mother Mary
at the church with mummy
knowing
deep down inside
your a ***** *****
god dam the boys look good
do you have the courage
to admit it
first to your self
and then another
or shall you live
muzzled
as you finger *****
obsessed with flying *****
and devils teeth
pigs nuzzling mud and ****
strewn at a *** trough
you love playing with fire
hot toes and ****
oh yeah
turn up the ****** heat
your craven desires
to be a **** toy
and then the pleasure
break me break me
twisted broken
little **** toy
if you could only find me
your
Lover
Linker
Licker
Sucker
Thinker
Maker
Shaker
Breaker
******
Burner
Cutter
Shooter
Impaler
the one who glorifies
your *** hole
insinuates kisses that tear
who adores your
midnight whimpers
howls of pleasure
cries for help
no safe words
bending bending
broken
mutilation gasms
you smiling
succubus
hobbling over
for another hard blow
your **** drenched
******* zinging
from razors play
blood red rivulets
falling on pretty feet
while good people
dream of angels
you dream of
big cocked men
and merciless gang bangs
a sweet ***** of Babylon
hard justice
cruelties ecstatic
being beaten to death
by 100 buttered *****
legs and arms piled high
and **** and **** and more ****
your holy trinity
no you say
there must be some mistake
thats not you
your on gods leash
burying yourself
in black rocks
crypt of normalcy
your goody goody goody
time to cinch up
veil of the nunnery
hinge on the death mask
no honey
theres no gorilla
in your cave
crushing girlie's soul
pride will out shine all
til last bloom is no more
then learn laments fury
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
I'm working I tell my mom
staying up late at night as she thinks I'm doing homework
while I actually waste time on youtube and 9gag.com
search cultures, and histories, and groups
wanting to belong
and be a part of
a community, a group, find myself
and then I feel so selfish sitting in my room starting to pity those who don't have food
when the pity turns on my for having no sense of culture nor community
I go to school everyday wanting to learn about everything that I don't hear
about space and stars, histories, wars, and of people who belonged with friends in proximity
I can't work, I try to but I can't
I search up how to look more pretty and attract my crush
and then how we shouldn't care about looks from someone who loves to rant
I listen to punk rock, ska punk, celtic punk, and rock because I can't work
I play my trombone because I can't work but I can do music homework
I read books about history and stars because I can't work but I can learn
You can't go anywhere without good grades they say
so if only i was marked on things I wanted to learn
things I wanted to present for things I wanted to earn
I'm only 15 and don't know where this is going
and now I'm resisting the temptation to erase this whole non-poem that I'm to and froing
with info about my life that only I care about
while I procrastinate like most kids do my age
when I hear my mom shout
telling me to not stay up too late and that she's proud of me working
when I'm actually wasting my time and her dreams
so I'll get back to my can't working
ending this not-a-poem with something it's not doing- flowing
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
stepford wife, smile bright
cook, clean, fix, listen, shine
a trophy, prize, conquest
overused, underloved, broken, dies
unassembled puzzle, incomplete
pieces an unclear fit, break
silent muzzled, scattered, quit
exhausted, out is in a box
for puzzles, games, like little talk
brought to shelved bars, stay
viewed only, never touched
succumb, suffocate, decay
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
I am an umbrella, a rain jacket,
For the Cinderella, a stored away packet,
Till the day the skies sputter rain.
I am a tool box, a first aid kit lain
In a dark, webs-infested dusty corner,
Touching no light; seeing no cleaner.
The kitchen accident and toys’ breakdown
Are such welcome picnics to the town.
Could have been a willow, nor am I a pillow
To cry on in times of immense pains in kilo
And to hug out of a heart exploding joy.
But I am a bomb-shelter, a floating life buoy,
A tower of refuge in times of need;
A furrow-deserted land planted no seed,
Awaiting to be useful again in season,
Not Jesus, but bearing a crystal reason
To be also a rock in that weary land.
I am a handkerchief in a man’s hand;
Ironically stuffed useless in the back pocket,
To blow away flu mucus off the nosy socket,
Or wipe the intermittently rare solitary tears
That graces the dry eyes from heartbreak fears.
I am not a flowerbed; I am a mango tree;
Having no admirers save the monkeys, free
To shelter, mate, play and make all merry,
Spring has come with flowers and I draw very
Much attention; the promise of fruits abundance,
Needed, loved, and embraced in a scarce annual chance.
I am an audience for the sad breaking news;
The princess’s Eulogizer in dilemma to possible views,
I am a lawnmower in her abandoned backyard,
A joker of little importance in her game play card.
I am a muzzled ox treading the corn;
A mockery of treasure, glittering scorn,
In her darkest times, the cherished glow-worm;
An apologetic shelter in the times of storm.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 2:59 AM UTC
I laid there staring
at the insanely
bright and rude
fluorescent light
that
mocked my suffering.
The cold concrete
floor felt
good against
my screaming aches.
My body was
pleading with the
Gods for just a
taste of what
had been taken
away.
My bowels were as
controllable as
a teen aged
beauty.
With a ****
I brought my
burning face
toward the cool
silent cold metal
toilet.
Ugly yellow bile
that only a tired
and tortured
body could
produce
spewed forth.
A moan and a wipe
then a hollow knock
on the graffiti
covered cell door.
"You made bail"
an almost robotic
sounding voice
says.
With a thousand tiny
swordsman stabbing
at my face I
managed to smile
into my own bile.
I looked at the
mustached uncaring
face in the
small window.
"You look like Death Pal"
The mustache says to me.
I spit the acrid taste
of day old *****
and ****** resin.
Then rise and run my
sweaty palm through
my hair in an
attempt at looking
presentable.
The mustache opens
the door and
as I walk out
I look directly at the
rogue hairs
protruding from
the mustaches nostrils
and say.
"Death Is Beautiful"
The mustache holds
the door as I walk out.
I'm feeling better already
"Oh Yea well so was my Xwife
look at how much trouble
she still causes me".
The mustache says
Every step
I take down
the institutional colored,
masonic checkered floored
hallway causes
my body
to scream with hope.
I can feel the sweat
roll down my face
but I refuse to let
this mustache
see my suffering.
We stop at the
property window,
I sign a half
of an X where it
says signature.
Then before
I gather up
my belongs
and head
back out into the
night I looked
over at the
mustache and said
"You had a Wife?"
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
I dreamed my genesis in sweat of sleep, breaking
Through the rotating shell, strong
As motor muscle on the drill, driving
Through vision and the girdered nerve.
From limbs that had the measure of the worm, shuffled
Off from the creasing flesh, filed
Through all the irons in the grass, metal
Of suns in the man-melting night.
Heir to the scalding veins that hold love's drop, costly
A creature in my bones I
Rounded my globe of heritage, journey
In bottom gear through night-geared man.
I dreamed my genesis and died again, shrapnel
Rammed in the marching heart, hole
In the stitched wound and clotted wind, muzzled
Death on the mouth that ate the gas.
Sharp in my second death I marked the hills, harvest
Of hemlock and the blades, rust
My blood upon the tempered dead, forcing
My second struggling from the grass.
And power was contagious in my birth, second
Rise of the skeleton and
Rerobing of the naked ghost. Manhood
Spat up from the resuffered pain.
I dreamed my genesis in sweat of death, fallen
Twice in the feeding sea, grown
Stale of Adam's brine until, vision
Of new man strength, I seek the sun.
2.1k
This year I want to start a new tradition. One that's my own. At the end of each year I'd like to write what I've learned. No, this isn't another "New Year, New Me," poem, simply a fresh perspective.
Oh 2016, where do I even begin? This past year brought immense pain, yet so much clarity after the heartache subsided. I learned that you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else. Unfortunately, I lost that loved one before I could learn that lesson. Now that it's been taught, by the grace of God I am no longer lost.
2016 was the year I did it all on my own. Okay, who am I kidding I'm a millennial so my dad did help me along the road. 2016 was about choosing your battles while fighting the good fight. I also learned it's not always about you. In fact, it's safe to say it's never about you. We're merely just pieces in a big spiritual puzzle, and that truth will never be muzzled.
Happy New Year & Cheers to 2017!
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 2:36 AM UTC
I had locked away my true thoughts and muzzled my true voice
for far to long.
Was it a character i desired to be?
Were my words to be but a joke to break the awkward silence?
When you start to be social only to lock yourself up
to exist with your demons your becoming a dangerous
person to yourself.
My work once flowed now it sits half finished great starts
stalled endings.
My skills were learned from not the comic arena
and i could imagine my journalist friends laughter mocking
me even now.
He's slipped finally lost in cheap jokes gone from
anything that speak's of his true voice.
The people didnt thirst to know John.
for my well penned alter ego was the one they all knew and so blindly
misunderstood.
Old friends check in.
Messages on my phone i'd sooner erase than
respond to.
Had I slipped in some form of insanity?
Embracing dellusion to mask my failures in life?
I was a writer ,A troublemaker and owner of laughs.
A good time for many yet emptyness was my reallity.
As from the TV screen reflected change and madness.
For crazy is a close friend of chaos.
I got in the game to make a mark but what was the price?
A destroyed marriage a relationship heading into
the very same direction.
What had I become but some twisted monster
and tormented soul.
A sad afterthought to a sick joke.
Deppresion can make us into something no mirror can truely
reflect.
The chamber stayed loaded the glass my curse
seldom these days full.
And what she wanted I could never give like sunsets
red cast gold flaked embrace i was a moment.
And moment's can't forever last.
No child should know a madman's life.
And a selfish bastard I knew was my role.
Empty streets and smokey old bars were my path
and what to anyone could i truley give?
Pain was the fuel hours my sea to sail alone.
The chamber was full but soon one would
be missing.
A tale cant be read untill it's finshed.
We are but moments.
And moments can't last forever.
Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 10:32 AM UTC
It was always just there, undoubted, unmoving.
It was the ground beneath my feet, it was the air in my lungs.
I had no reason to worry that I should be proving
That I was worth waiting around for with the songs that I sung.
Then one day I looked down and the ground moved below me,
I walked right off the edge of the earth into the thin air below.
I had always assumed you and I would be trophies
Hanging around each other’s necks, we were the best thing we had to show.
Then the cold crept in and the trees died in fire,
Each branch was a vibrant torch, flames fighting cold autumn wind.
I still think the cold that Eighteenth Winter inspired
My heart to freeze solid when the truth wouldn’t bend.
See I’ve got shallow friendships tied around both wrists like anchors
They’re all that keeps me from drifting out to even lonelier seas.
One day I’ll work up the courage to thank her
For saving you from my complacency.
Paper butterflies are not enough to save me
For the words forming mobs at the back of my tongue.
I’ve got myself muzzled, forcing myself to behave, see,
Who knows where a thought can go once it’s begun.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 11:28 PM UTC
Mile after mile
the endless motorway
spews out its metal contortions
hum your V6 engine
rock with impatience
under branded lime-green
sun strip protectors
brimming with breeders
of brooding black BMWs
7-seater convertible prowess
gleaming off-roaders
go faster striped boy-racers
silver slick steamroller Range Rovers
revving executive supremacy
nestled annoyingly
behind a Grand Jeep Cherokee
all stop in motion
by a pedestrian button
for a little old lady
with shopping,
And me.
So many people
in so many cars
gas guzzling
un-muzzled bulldogs
drooling to be first
the excesses of acceleration
the freedom to roam
to gloat or to garner
well you can all stay in line
with the press of a button
and a finger like mine
Moses in green spandex
parts the Metal Sea
for a little old lady
with shopping,
And me.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 11:15 AM UTC
Deep inside a forest
Hushed whispers can be heard
A creature of humanity bereft
Has got the nightlife quite disturbed
Eyes as black as blood
Reflect in the moonlight
Bare feet buried in mud
A sharp smile widened in delight
Skin pitch black
Leather to the touch
Antlers on its head
A stag in its clutch
Sharp claws caressing its snout
An unusual couple
There never was a doubt
That the stag would either
Bustle, shuffle, struggle or buckle
Instead it muzzled, nuzzles, cuddles and snuggles
All the while the creature subtle chuckles
Blending into darkness
Ready to strike and attack
You can feel each others fondness
Of him and the black feathered stag
Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 6:00 PM UTC
Woke up late
The issues of yesterday still intact,
Turned the pillow to the cool side,
And opened the window.
Tried to race my shadow down the stairs.
Bade family "Good day" and nestled on the couch.
Nothing narrates your day better than a
"Previously on..."
Took too long deciding what to do with my morning
that it became afternoon, time is sneaky like that.
Walked to the store with no intent,
I have a gift, I always end up in the feminine hygiene aisle or the ***
Played some music louder than I should have,
my reasoning was if my bones don't vibrate then
the heavens won't be able to hear it either.
Was scared by a big dog even though it was muzzled.
Came back home, one armpit was sweatier than the other.
Lungs collapsing but I felt the doubts and ire abating.
Checked in with my people and cared about what they had to say.
It's dark now, the pillow is heating up for another long night.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 5:21 AM UTC
why can’t I howl like you?
like the wild dogs un-muzzled
in the karmic night?
why can’t I have honesty,
like well earned sweat,
ooze from every pore
like you, Bukowski?
why can’t I enter the river
against the flow, like the steamer
which juggernauted you, Joseph
into the black jungle, where scarlet pulses
of your dark heart spoke the language
of the sword, but
words cut more savagely than
the sharpened steel?
words, so viciously true
they had to be silenced
by the light of day
before they could blind others
like I, who would slash and burn
you for seeing, and speaking
the horror of truth
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 3:08 AM UTC
while out and about
an unexpected over bare ring bout
to defecate arose,
where sphincter asserted clout
and would excrete
despite without doubt...
if closing distance
(to reach rental abode)
beaten out by loosening sphincter muscle
transmitting excretory code
set sights on prowl for outlawed, secluded,
and wooded make shift commode
and essentially for naught negating
toddler toilet training, sans
getting ***** trained undone
via my ***** ready to explode
and blast immense solid waste byproduct
(oh...close to the size of Rhode Island)
thus a marathon race against time
found immediate readiness to pull off roadside
to access make shift water closet
generating image firmly in pooping mode
grabbing hold of a tree trunk
(a mini rocky horror picture show, -
this analogy included for no particular reason
other than as a non-sequitur)
and also to convey, how I tried
to allay distractions
while painful contractions flowed
(perhaps approximating a woman
on verge of giving birth)
but...no matter, aye could envision,
an ever increasing heavy m**f*** load
hence approaching Highland Manor Apartments
this chap abandoned
prior simultaneous evacuation plan
starkly aware probability for secluded spot sunk
(nonetheless, thy darting darting
anguish, futile lizard like lookout,
a geico Gekko whose cheeks did blush
even for a measly Georgian bush
quickened nsync with ****** spasms
visual scouting industrialized
where backhoes didst crush
once a time sacred happy hunting grounds
of native Americans, now flush
with newly built vinyl city re: urban sprawl a gush,
where cookie cutter houses long since bringing hush
puppies muzzled, yet never the less and mush
a doo doo about nothing) except sprint
ting to a void push
immortalizing indigenous tribes ghosts rush
peopling infrastructure affixing
urbanization with their warrior whoosh!
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 4:25 PM UTC
Listen here --> https://soundcloud.com/m_c_vegh/no-apologies-at-the-apocalypse
I said I wasn't ready for how this begun
now the race has been run,
I'll say it has been fun.
So if the stars fell from the skies
you wouldn't see tears in my eyes
for goodbyes to lies that this world has been telling,
those goods were poor for selling.
A felony for global enemies and lemme see
cause the blood can't scrub from these hands with ready clean
do you know what I mean?
I took them serious but I am laughing this time,
They thought that I would stand in line for this mankind
I'm like fine. No crime, But only for a second.
Never stay in order too long cause the chaos always beckons.
I think I love her for the trouble the love that I have is causin
So disaster is my demon and I'm addicted to her problems
Not trying to solve them too fascinated by the puzzle
I owned the hand of the master so bite that and get muzzled
And I can say for certain
all the serpents will get their serving.
Deservingly for causing uncertainty with their obscurity.
Verbally the dawn and the dusk of us
could be the boom then the bust
so robust with lust like as we died we all ******
Before we're all ******
But you'll find no apocalyptic apologies from me
I didn't fall to greed or disease
I worked hard to fill needs.
And now hells bound on four steeds
like the poisons on force feed.
But we will not drink the kool-aid
and shadows of comets are a cruel shade
the reason they move this way
to collide in for doomsday
and the doomed say nothing of light when in the dark
like they never knew the flame that could grow from the spark.
So I wonder if we knew there was no future to defend
would that mean no apologies because regret is pretend?
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 7:24 PM UTC
' ^
' / \
' / \
' /<o>\
' / ___ \
'
I heard there was a secret orb
it's ovoid laid and it’s for the horde
but they don’t really care for vaccines voodoo.
Well it goes like this just close your fist
a minor thrall of the aged list
the muzzled crowd reposing hallelujah
hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah
Your mate was wrong so you were aloof
you know she’s scathing about your proof
her baulking of your insight over threw you.
She lied to you which wasn’t fair
she spoke alone and she didn’t care
and sipped more ale her hebrewed hallelujah
hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah
You say I look as if in pain
I'm pinched as salt not in a grain
But if I am then silly, what’s it to you.
There’s a craze at night all round the world
to some it matters we’re not a herd
the whole of thee a token hallelujah.
Hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah
I beat my breast your out of touch
I will not kneel I will not slouch
I am a sleuth so I cannot let them fool you.
And even if it all goes wrong
I’ll stand before the mighty throng
with nothing in my veins nor hallelujah
Hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah
hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah.
Ryan O'Leary 17/08/2020.
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 6:48 AM UTC
We were pirates then
dueling swords of picket wood
on summer days when backyard pools
were Caribbean seas
We swung from frayed and creaking rope
tethered to the stolid limbs of shadegiving trees
plundering the ships we made from cardboard
and splintered pinewood crates
We laid siege to sandbox fortresses
with cannon fire from garden hoses
muzzled by the ends of our thumbs
Our shipmates were the tabby cats
and german shepherds we dressed
in tattered sheets pillaged from
lines strewn across the lawn
and patches held by rubber bands
covering bewildered eyes
We were pirates then
dueling swords of picket wood
on summer days we buried
in coves hidden along straits
we marked on weathered maps
Surviving still and sometimes found
in the darkest corners of the night
and the cloudless wonder of the day
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
a one dimensional
*** ***** brain
in a three dimensional hologram of consciousness
i am a dumb wind
a slouching mongrel soul
carved in corpusles
its twenty six dimensions stupid!
mind like a radish in a **** slum
inhabiting a no return winter
of hollow helled mountains
soon to be dead
like disappearing smoke
i hear my voice
trying to count its molecules
with a slathering tongue
needle numb
and a brocaded Vox throat of tears
while eyes plead floating
like cataract clouds
no
Shadrach Meshach and Abednego
shinning baptism ufo's
god ***** shimmering in space
no
no reality quotient here
in a fitted sim built blood machine
of flimsy bone locomotion's
looking for time slips
tormented
by lifes prodding night stick
in a distortion field
i turn the wheel of shapeless shadows
in Satan's mill
waiting dormant
****** and muzzled
in a 666 cosmic zip code
im just another
****** **** ***** Jew
************ ******
apple bend over
living to pay the ******* rent
in a house fallen before its built
panting staccato deja vu's
in a no return winter
of pandemonium
in this knot of blotting screams
i try desperately to levitate
from this spittoon of ascending ***** matter
here gold turns to chalk
and i'm always doing gods work
with the devils pride
like a bug in the grass
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 12:59 PM UTC
My poetry is a
Dangerous place to be
I’m so in love with
Your story
I forget all the fragments of me
So I read, and reread
The caverns of the mind
How the vile side winds
Captivating fixations
Tangle and bind
Ferment and remind of
The here and now
As the north winds howl
Futile hush muzzled
Omens from the
Incubus vagrant brow
That follows me
On down to
The mountain edge
The city street hedge
Clock tower ledge
My poetry is a
Dangerous place to be
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 12:18 AM UTC
a spirit wolf torn from his trees,
locked into an iron cage,
he'll bite this "master's" knees,
just to sate his rage,
a dragon ripped from his cave,
muzzled to cut his flame,
forced to fly, entertaining slave,
he'll **** them all, they're to blame.
sleek black monstress, taken from her home,
shackled and bound, brings her pain,
acidic blood doesnt help her roam,
starved and beaten, forced to train.
these three each, from worlds apart,
forced to do battle in a ring.
fight for their lives, forced to part,
with all they knew, as the crowds sing.
they meet in battle, snarls and growl,
to one another, silence breached,
xenny growl, lucian roar, leon howl,
each in unison, "we'll be unleashed..."
they act, lashing out, tearing flesh
from the crowds, from their master
break through the cage, to air so fresh
running, flying, fleeing faster
finally free... they can finally rest...
collapse on the ground, ease the ache
hurting limbs, aching feat, heaving chest
tomorrow, mourning for the lives they take.
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 10:22 PM UTC
Tell me what to do
For I am forever embedded
In the velvet skies your love provides
I glide underneath your presence
Dazed and muzzled by the strength
Your words melt the ice around my heart
Giving me more coal in my furnace
So the dying within can stop
Is love just a trial and error simulation?
And we are its pawns?
At the end of my move
My pieces are all gone
So let me write you something I hope you zoom with intent:
I owe you my life for pouring fuel in my wings
I owe you the world for sowing up my seams
I owe you an apology for writing sappy poems
I owe you my life for giving me shelter during this storm
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 6:49 PM UTC