"shambled" poems
The morning sun screamed out there
And longing was here
Longing for all that I thought I had
as starlings wept inside out of all storm clouds
For it was only infatuation and he left me out here inside of a shambled horizon
lost to the breaking of dawns harshest breath.
jo.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 3:21 PM UTC
In times like these, reality seems to be too cruel to bear.
All dreams lie shambled, like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.
All friendships seize, like it was nothing in all those years it lasted.
Neighbors become enemies like they never shared Sunday meals together.
Loved ones stab you at the back, like it didn't hurt enough when you carved out your heart for them.
In times like these, I wish I could go back in time to when it was all simpler.
When we could all share a joke without reading in between the lines.
When we could play all day without picking out each others mistakes.
When the only thing we worried about was when night would be morning again...so that we could play with our friends again.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
The dissonance in the air
visiting flashes sonically weaving trembling tales
of flash floods and brushfires. intertwined between and beneath
leathery scales, dorsal fins and rat tails.
Intimate whispered coded messages
massaging ear drum lines menacingly, scratching the passages, cruising through each hall.
tapping at every door.
With a gravely groan, reciting a indecipherable buddhist koan.
Laugh as you may
The moon will leave
Without a notice
We'll be without
Another day.
The dissonance in the air
leaving car crashes and birthday bashes in shambled states of stasis
smiling bits of shrapnel suspended in howling fits of laughter
smoldering hordes of children melting under summer suns
all while a paramedic belts out birthday songs
and a clown juggles displaced screws and cogs.
Disasters and dances have more in common than
dispatchers and discjockeys.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 11:45 AM UTC
*my footsteps emit echoes,
they bounce off the black horizon and ricochet back to my ears.
i have long since learnt to treat them
with the same disdain i treat
the damp edges of my eyes
my own thoughts have become mockery
against me. i walk down the pier.
floorboards creak below, unable to hold the weight
of both me
and the demons
that cling onto my back.
my shadow is not one of a lone silhouette.
it is of two, me
and my ghost.
**i am not sure
which i am.**
the dust that line the boardwalks
no longer disturb me.
i have long since clothed myself
in loneliness. though it's warm,
it sinks.
it is only when i feel the rush of another's pulse
the heat off skin,
that my heart starts beating again -
flames engulfing defibrillators,
and i am suspended in a hot air balloon.
there are no winters in my life,
there is only blistering heat
and dampening warmth.
i can't say when all the coldness had seeped out of me,
for i never stopped caring
about myself.
i believe that
i care too much.
now, i find myself drawn
more to the darkness looming
from the lighthouse up ahead, invaded by
shadows after its shimmering fortress
of fireflies and candles
had been burnt down
by its own heat.
the pier reminds me of my thoughts,
discarded and clothed in dust.
leading to nothing but
a shambled shell of a building
burned to ashes by its own light,
crumbling to pieces,
dismembered fragments
lost in the ocean.*
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 5:32 AM UTC
The shambled emotions on the side walk
Singing songs with our eyes cause we’re dirt poor
And talk is cheap but I guess yours is free
And you never leave when you’re next to me
And I can’t help but push you away from here
Tearing paper skin with crocodile tears
Try and leave a mark, leave a scar
But it’s wearing thin, I bruise hard
The casualties of history
Oh treat me like you don’t know me
And if I die do not mourn me
Yeah if I am dying don’t resuscitate me
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
I love the way you look in the moonlight that filters in through the window
(I love the simple fact that you are here with me in the moonlight)
Your hair smells amazing
(I inhale you every chance I get in every state you are in and hold it in my lungs because I want it to intoxicate me)
Your hair looks fantastic
(it floats downward from the top of your brilliant mind and cascades like your thoughts, pours like your words in our half-drunk midnight conversations)
Your smile is so pretty
(when you smile at me it lights me up and makes me feel, if even for an instant in this time of my life that is so shambled and broken, whole)
Can I have a hug?
(hold me, embrace me, envelope me, if only to let me know you are real)
Let’s go to bed
(where I can confuse physical love with emotional, take refuge in confirming our relationship with *** because it’s easier than risking my whole trust, easier than leaving myself bare before you with the certainty that one day, eventually, you will tear my heart out and crush it)
No, that’s ridiculous. Why would you say that?
(I’m terrified that you know me so well)
I don’t think I can make it tonight
(I’m terrified that you know me so well)
Can’t we talk?
(I get it, you backed away because I did but I’m going to blame you because I can’t blame myself, don’t you see? Can’t you see how utterly self-absorbed I am but also woefully lacking self-confidence? I refuse to share any of this with you, I can’t let you know it but if you saw it I’d acknowledge it, at least I think I will, and you know me so well so why can’t you see it)
I don’t think we should see each other anymore
(please, please, please make me realize how utterly foolish I am. Please slap me and scream at me)
Say something
(your total lack of reaction destroys me more than anything)
You look really pretty
(so beautiful, majestic, magnificent and I love you. I love the tears I have made you cry so silently and I hate myself so much for this moment because of that. I love you and only now as you walk away do I realize it)
Fine. Go.
(the ease with which you leave is painful and will linger for years)
…
(Please stop walking, please. I was wrong. Please.)
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 12:11 AM UTC
Down no plains of flowing grass
up no hills of trees that stand
what tips your hat?
where is your flaw?
disillusioned taste
defused for all, mimicked
in the voice of a flower
through hearts of trees, outstretching
complex, limbs hidden
simply facilitated
in common goal, conditioned
used for all;
how do you stand?
quite so tall
in divined obsession
it seems to find all
nurtured and withdrawn
concealed in fixation
no one finds your flaw
for there’s none at all
yet from deception, true love finds all
in this shambled; shrine,
not flawed in design
nurtured from unseen
confronted with existence.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 3:20 AM UTC
**** Leeches
I saw one of the guys who live up the road from me,
sleeping on his front porch today as I drove by.
He was leaned back in an old recliner,
half smiling, eyes closed,
sitting in the only area
where there was currently shade
on the old porch of the shambled house.
There are four who live there.
all in their forties or fifties.
Three with white beards, one without.
Front door always open. Windows always open.
No screens. Cats lounging around in the sun.
Two couches and another recliner line the porch,
shoved back against the wall,
waiting for the eastern sun to rise a little higher
to put it all in shade.
They’ll all be out there eventually.
Common leeches of society.
Sitting there laughing,
beers in hand,
telling the same stories
they’ve probably each heard hundreds of times.
**** leeches.
Always smiling and laughing.
Enjoying life and not worrying
about car payments and credit cards
or payments on millions of materialistic possessions
they’re supposed to dream of having
as society demands.
**** leeches.
Always waving and being friendly
when I drive by.
Always taking the time to say hello
and ask me how I’m doing
when I take my morning walk,
or sometimes my afternoon walk.
**** leeches.
Never once have they invited me
to eat steaks and shrimp
I was told they eat every day,
at the tax payers expense.
They just sit there,
eating bologna sandwiches
and drinking beer,
enjoying life.
How dare they rub it in
and mock society
showing off their happiness
the way they do.
**** leeches.
JSM 8/3/17
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 12:18 PM UTC
POEM 32
I wish falling in love
was as easy as writing a poem...
Wait,
what the hell are you saying Aztec?!
Poetry ain’t easy.
It’s messy,
it interrupts your sleep with word dreams;
it runs away when you get close;
every time you think you’ve
found the right words.
Poetry ain’t ******* easy!
Yeah, true
but when you do find the words
they fill the pages
with lilacs
and wild blueberries
and strawberry cream truffles;
they dance with the shadows
within you
and caress your lips with
butterfly whispers
when you read,
then re-read...
But love,
it’s fleeting illusion,
even if whimsical,
and leaves your heart
in shambled pieces,
especially
when it isn’t returned!
If you are honest,
a poem will always be with you.
Even if it ain’t ******* easy
Aztec Warrior 8.2.15
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
Things are different and sometimes I wish I remained in the shelter labelled as The Indifferent where soap bubbles were as indestructible as bulletproof glass.
But you have a way of making me roll down my windows long enough to pass me nibblets of living and I wish you never reached your hand in to touch mine.
Safe houses aren't constructed to keep people out but deadbolts are in place to keep me in. I'd never advocate a limb to give me comfort;
your legs aren't strong enough to walk in this shambled home and your arms will burn before they can reach me.
I'm in the middle of flames that do not burn as strong as your eyes and I may not be a locksmith but I could very well create a lock that will keep you out.
I have a lead heart that's as fragile as the granite that define your sketches so don't you try to ring that doorbell because it won't open.
I find comfort in loneliness and solace in pain but you'll never change my mind about spring and how blooming flowers always close up from the world.
Morning Glory eyes that open with light and shut in darkness, you haven't been touched by the poison so let's keep you alive for as long as you are meant to live.
There's a difference between pessimism and realizing that the moon is as good as it gets so while you are safe, I will be as safe as dry wood in a bonfire.
I realize that pain is subjective and that iron walls are as needed as titanium souls but it doesn't stop me from being as frivolous as a dandelion.
Don't look at me like I hold treasures because I'm just a body of ashes and tears that is as significant to the eco system as a star that has burned out eons ago.
Remove me from your thoughts and eradicate every memory that acts as a landslide once I'm gone.
Your soul shines brighter with each passing day that I cease to matter.
And of all the words I've every said or written
remember that the most important is the poem about goodbyes and endless apologies.
I love you,
please forget me
and don't forgive me.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 12:55 PM UTC
Remember Wyoming?
Those two days find their way to me, and it always seems so vibrant.
How it hurt to breathe with the constant cigarette smoke in our mouths,
and how hard it was to light one in the windy cough of the night.
I remember us and the others drinking some tea,
and seeing myself in its ingredients.
I remember looking in the splintered mirror for half an hour,
exploring the wonderful fluke of my face.
I remember feeling every ***** of you in the prickly light of night.
The desert howled at us and we howled back, not caring if our sounds would slap the others in the face.
When we stumbled back in afterwards, the space was silent.
Someone took something and they heard their own voice,
but they didn’t like that echoing clatter.
Their hands were over their ears; they writhed on the floor like their skin was a size too small.
It was then I realized that our cabin had no windows or doors, but just gaping indigo gashes,
and I felt so defenseless against the angry emptiness of those American wastes.
Eventually his body slacked, indicating that he was stuck in himself once again.
We stayed inside for the rest of the night, keeping our eyes away from the spaces in the walls.
We huddled together, me and you, on the concrete floor, and tried to keep the fire going.
I remember someone through in that Aldous Huxley novel, and I thought it was a waste.
I, for one, always liked the ending, with the feet rotating like Columbia Mall’s carousel.
But I’m sure you’d beg to differ.
The next morning we and the others shook ourselves awake, and shambled our way into the Dodge.
I sat in the flatbed, and as we hollered down the highway,
I watched a single cloud slip across the sky at the same rate we were driving,
and lied on my side for those 8 hours; the cloud looked like a tired blur.
But when we arrived outside Omaha, and everyone and you jumped out to ****
I realized that the cloud I thought was still must’ve flew about seven hundred miles.
It could’ve fooled me.
And then you kissed me on the cheek and took a Camel out of my pocket,
skipping into the soda shop like a child, two days younger.
Apr 9, 2010
Apr 9, 2010 at 1:50 PM UTC
Love, what a joke when you're alive like me,
But you like to laugh along until you tell me what you want, tell me why it can't be
You got guns and guns, you make sure to load the clips for it
You get me nice and close you know kissing distance, and let your pistol whisper it.
Go ahead and buy those things to make yourself feel like you've found it.
Being lost I've found 'finding' funds flagrancy; and just goes to compound it.
Gimme this gimme that, does this lifestyle you know, make me look fat?
Get your own body (stop watching mine) what do you think you should look more at?
Love, what a joke when you're alive like me,
Try to stay awake to observe your nature and I fell asleep up in the tree,
Buy yourself a ticket take our time and have it tossed
You lit a fire in me, I got lost in you, now I'm on fire and lost.
It was wrong.
Now your gone.
I'm lost.
Do you have any idea how sick I am of myself?
Or what that's like?
(Chances are you don't)
Burn yourself with an iron, get really good at it, do it all the time then you might.
I'm to that point where I can't brag about my fears, not anymore
They just make me scared. (That's what they want)
Driving backwards to go forwards in a car without the rears,
Still feeling more comfortable impared.
Light the fuse and wait for no explosion, being blunt: I can't find a point.
My mom told me every day I was special, I was chosen,
Then she marked a made up friend who's easier to anoint.
Through all of this, nothing is constant.
Not mother, nor brother, nor pa
Mother gave me to a father who lost me
Now I expect everything to go wrong.
To be gone.
To be lost.
Feeling for affinity in streets all filled with enemies
I've had my fill of friends who tease then climb on me to meet their means
Got enough **** problems of my own, stuck in a government that wants my bones
Home of the brave, land of the free, host to double down hypocrisy (the parasites are profiting!)
I guess I'm ****** to be ****** collar free slavery
For every shambled man or ma'am who wants to sign into democracy
C-a-p-I-t-olism,
Get em trapped up in the schism boys! Get em boys get em!
We're lost.
We've lost our way.
Or maybe it's just me.
If you're out there please say, please stay.
We are this lands new beginning.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 11:30 AM UTC
It’s like looking in a mirror
Looking at you
An image of a soul
A little bruised and slightly broken
Masking the shambled past
With lines to a song, cigarette smoke
And the Rebel Yell Lingering on your breath
If you drink enough your numb
If you cant feel anything
Then nothing hurts
Those scares on your knees and hands
They are the failed attempts of the world
To push you down
But determinism flows freely through you
Proving everyone wrong who gets in your way
A rough tough and wild outside
With a soft personal inside
Yes this image terrifies me
Yes this image makes me want to run
It makes me want to run to everywhere you are
Because this soul image is my insatiable desire
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
I kissed you as the stars fell because I knew it better depicted our love than anything else could. We shined so brightly so quickly, but like all beautiful things, we turned into shambles. I swear though, I never felt more love than our one o'clock screaming phone calls and alcoholic lullabies.
-s.r.b.
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
Another sunset spans the sky
Deserting its view of shambled streets,
Fleeing the dark silhouettes and wires pierced high.
On feathered wings it fades and bids good-bye.
What a reminder is sent to us each day,
As sweeping clouds look down before dying,
That beyond this desolation, they still will stay;
No human form can stop their flying.
The eye is jarred by every scene,
In which the darkening hulks arise,
And yet are conquered by the sky, it seems;
We are left to dwell below; to guard this prize.
Who, staring aloft, would never desire,
To rise up and dwell among the splendor,
Rather than stay below in tangled squalor?
Yet we must be content with remembered fire.
(Not finished)
May 7, 2020
May 7, 2020 at 2:36 PM UTC
Your name wrung
between the lines of
fresher tender cuts.
Brushing a slower finger
over dusty pages,
disturbing untold stories
that was long untouched.
Your name is
the tap-tap of hammer nails
and the crimson consummator.
The barricading name,
of the mesmeric temple of apologies
molded by unequivocal agony and anger
lying in the bleak moor
laced with your remnants.
My mind is left shambled on the floor,
shards of memories
now leaking as exudate
am I being inflamed?
If I were to paint this across the canvas,
it’d be red, blue then purple
a galaxy with mismatched constellations
on a rippled fabric of night skies.
If I were to ink you to paper,
tracing you in black
you’d diffuse, cry and leak
into a pool of red,
dripping at the edge of the paper.
You are the cactus
pricking with every temptation.
The one engrained in my figmentation
wrapped in lessons
coloring the pigmentation of my skin
with various hues.
You are the open wound
with the fabricated scab.
You are the name
that rings inside my head,
echoing through my memories
trembling shakes, tremors
through the cronies
widening the past a little
more within me.
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 2:59 PM UTC
19 years old
4 car wrecks
All I should have died
People say it was gods will
I don't care what it was
I should have died
I wanted to die
My life a shambled mess
Of questions and fears
Will I succeed
Who will give me a chance
Do I get opportunities
Or am I stereotyped into immaturity
I've whispered only truths
Screamed nothing but respect
Played ***** to the man
*** bent towards the sky
Solicited my dignity
Abandoned my pride
Murdered my ego
Just to ask for a job
But still got rejected
This life isn't mine for long
I can feel it slipping away
Death whispers on the wind
It's scent calling on the waves
In this world I'm only another victim
Another corpse to be lain to rest
A weakling that couldn't survive
Another fool buried beside them all
A soldier trying to protect his own
A stereotyped scraggly pothead ***
Based only on my looks
I wear plaid jackets and beanies
Boots with a mustache and beard
I ask for shelter
Leave before the night is over
Im a worthless ********** in the homes
Of strangers unknowing what I go through
Life was perfect in the beginning
With family to love you
Give you reasons to smile
Give you the comfort
Knowing you were safe by their side
But in a world hungry
For souls of the innocent
Thirsty for the hearts of the hopeful
We find only death our true friend
The only truth to this life
You'll say I'm only complaining
But look around
Tell me what part isn't true
These are the rantings
This 19 year old scraggly pothead
*** in your eyes has left
A last resort
To save himself and the world
He grew up in
Watching it devour itself
With us as collateral damage
Us the reason we forced its hands
Savages wanting death
Tormenting till its suicide
A quicker answer than saying
There truly is hope
But I'm a blinded kid
Staring at the hallucinations
Of a light at the end of a tunnel
That never existed to begin with
This is just the darkness
We all contributed to create
Too scared to face music we wrote
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 3:33 AM UTC
I hope that you believe me,
for I wouldn’t tell a lie.
I cannot turn my science homework in
and this is why:
I messed up the assignment
that you gave us yesterday.
It burbled from its test tube
and went slithering away.
It wriggled off the table,
and it landed with a splat,
convulsed across my bedroom floor
and terrorized the cat.
It shambled down the staircase
with a horrid glorping noise.
It wobbled to the family room
and gobbled all my toys.
It tumbled to the kitchen
and digested every plate.
That slimy blob enlarged
with every item that it ate.
It writhed around the living room
digesting lamps and chairs,
then snuck up on our napping dog
and caught him unawares.
I came to school upset today.
My head’s in such a fog.
But this is my excuse:
You see, my homework ate my dog.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
B-/W-itches
Burn to the ground.
But I guarantee,
I'm the best at burning bridges,
So show me to the shambled mess,
And I'll ignite a fire
So very bright.
Because I'd rather suffocate
Than hear their names again.
I'd rather drown on the smoke
From when I burn the bridge down,
Than let petty brats walk along the planks again.
I'll burn that bridge
With them on it.
I'll ignite a flame so bright,
Ignite your plastic promises,
And throw the embers to the wind.
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 4:05 PM UTC
Words like "baby" aren't depressing
when you quench me like salad dressing.
You're the drapery in my soul
when I think I'm empty, you know I'm whole.
I rolled out of the womb,
a lump of clay, motionless, fidgets,
screaming for love.
I shambled through life,
a *** forming, cracking, breaking,
searching for myself.
What I eventually found was precious,
but to hold onto this truth proved to be a war.
The chaotic braying of battle subsided
when you fixed me with your eyes
and crossed a room
that seemed the length of an ocean
to pass your living breath into my bones
and I was as an instrument
in your hands.
I was amazed to find,
that I too am your castle in the storm,
that I am your raft over the deep,
and I am humbled
despite feeling so powerful
because something so precious
lies in my monstrous hands
and this brittle gift
is what bonds the bricks of my flesh.
Like a piano, you play me,
and all wonder why I sound so well.
They look to you and they know,
through joys and broken plans,
I'll be safe
in your hands...
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 8:31 PM UTC
Some daughters love their fathers
a bit too much
and their mothers not enough
This father was a cop,
the type that deals with the nasty cases
and he often came home drunk.
Alcohol did help, he said
and drank some more on the couch
and sometimes drank until he passed out
she was thirteen, his daughter
and would constantly nag
him with questions
about work. He didn't wanna talk about work,
about the gruesome details of
it and all that, but edgy teenagers will be
edgy teenagers
She insisted
and he kept drinking and eventually
passed out on his side
She was excited
took his gun from the holster
and started studying it with passion
turning it on all sides, smelling it,
holding it close
to the face
and
BANG!
the bullet got her lower jaw
it was a ****** mess
and she was in pain and gagging on blood
and shards of bone and teeth
But...
to call for help right now
would be wrong.
The whole world would accuse daddy
and he had no fault. And mommy would
reopen the case and
have no problem gaining custody of her
**** This was bad!
This was so bad!
And it was getting worse,
she felt it. Felt close to fainting. Father was still
on the couch. Passed out drunk.
She had to take matters into
her own hands. Shambled
into the kitchen
and grabbed the cutting board from
the table
and dipped a finger in her ****** mouth
and wrote with it on the cutting board
MY FAULT
DADDY INOCENT
(with a single 'N')
She went outside holding the cutting board
and knocked on
the neighbor's door.
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 2:15 PM UTC
Down the street the old man cried,
“let me sleep! i’ve got nothing to hide!”
but the thieves and the mold care not for such things
as they burned and they burned
and they burned
Wrinkled ladies in oversized rings
yelled out their price for the prisoner’s things
“settle down, settle down, there’s more where this came from.”
as they smiled and they smiled
and they smiled
The youth shiver below, crude laughter in the sky
fear overdosing on their tongues like a chalky vice
cold hands, cold heads, staining memories, red ink on shoes
as they crumbled and they crumbled
and they crumbled
The marching of shadows shambled in the light
“roll up, roll up! lucky winner hold tight!”
slave to the mechanical beating heart of powders and liquids and glittering heat
as they fell and they fell
and they fell
Wriggling corpses build their huts along the naked land
stumbling past crowded bones as they long played their hand
“mercy, mercy, our children starve!”
as they withered and they withered
and they withered
The earth spins off its ruptured axis
flinging it’s occupants in a human crisis
the old moose groans and the silver trees splinter
as they sank and they sank
and they sank
Life seems forever as decay eats decay
as adults never seem to turn tomorrow into today
the only mark of the living left like pressed flowers in a crumbling world
as we wept and we wept
and we wept
People in straight suits say ignorance is bliss
well ignorance made me a ****** kid
i’ll tell you
i’ll let you
in on a little secret
misery is a card you don’t want to play
and death is a dept you don’t want to pay
The 15th, 16th, 17th century
the 21st
the ******* 100th
round and round
over and over
pushing time again and again
Oh the lessons are never learnt
and the punishments are always served
and the only ones left in it all
are corporate businesses who
sweep the ice cubes under the fridge
Oh we’ll suffer
oh we’ll cry
oh we’ll tumble and grumble until we all die
But the world will keep turning
and the mistakes keep churning
until we are left with no more
Mar 15, 2021
Mar 15, 2021 at 8:45 AM UTC
"Love is a six-sided gamble
where you and I
are at stake.
We let our hearts entangle
not knowing
it was a mistake.
Every roll leaves us shambled
when we bet
our joy away.
With every turn I feel strangled
by the game
of love we play."
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
Oh, what is this repeated feeling of giddy
That make me relentlessly jump for joy again?
When was the last time I became so unsteady?
A year since I said I won’t ever due to pain.
You know I can’t say no to a sweeter offer,
But oh man, this hefty decision is so tough.
Cupid’s arrow made you sought me with no cover;
Then again, I've told you my past was tragic rough.
Perhaps I've been concealed for a long time like wine,
So as to treasure my inner beauty much more;
Now you say that I’m perfectly better than fine,
Like moving to a forward in soccer that score.
But wait, are we both on our prescribed right timing
Or will this too end up like my past misfortunes?
Oh shucks, don’t catch me do this front of you: smiling
Why? I might melt by your alluring get-up tunes.
Oh, woe to the innocence this muse assembled,
For it has gone transparent, so clear you can see;
Who else can have this concealment get so shambled
Other than the he who is hidden by Fate to be?
So I still relentlessly go back to this quiz
I’m sure I couldn't answer to a clearer zoom;
For in anything except love I’m a ****
Am I falling for you or falling to my doom?
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
You could hardly even walk
But you’d only been on bottled water.
I was drunk.
“Tell me then,” I said,
“Do I make you worse?”
You called me
A whole litany of horrors
And shambled away,
And didn’t call for two days.
(I was so vain back then,
I’m sorry for being so vain,
I’m sorry for assuming
You had stormed away
Because you couldn’t stand
Me blaming myself.
I now understand
That you were wounded
By the word
'Worse'.)
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 6:04 PM UTC