"situational" poems
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
*that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows the when and why of differing
cuddling styles...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows when to leave a man alone
alone in his man-mourning time,
distance needed,
letting his ex-rage dissipate or
watching his red and blue football
redefine ignominy...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when the man low whistles, eyes adrift,
she heartily agrees and is
reciprocity rewarded regularly
with hunk alerts of
"hey-check-him-out!"
that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
a tigress in the bedroom
she asking, try this, I'll love it,
served with a desert demo of awkward afterward,
his less-than-perfect cuddling abilities
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who doesn't abhor partner silences,
comforting they are, in their own ways,
lying side by side, interrupted only by peccadillo body noises unexpected and
sheepish apologies and loving arm stroking
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who lets the man roar, top of voice,
when imprisoned in car,
his voice, un enfant terrible,
performs with Creedence Clearwater
a sing-a-long in traffic, asking
"Have you ever seen the rain"
while amidst Israel-leaving-Egypt
Sunday beach traffic on the L.I.E.
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
when it's pheromones alternative mode day,
he celebrates Carole King day,
she demonstrates her cuddling abilities,
par excellence, with kisses and tissues
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
a woman, plain confident in her abilities
no matter the situational status,
when confronted by
less-than-crazy-impetuous,
she smiling says "why not,"
when he proposes,
a movie and dinner in a fav haunt?
"plenty excellent enough" her answer,
spoke in a rising voice
full of unfeigned delight
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
accepting the unexpected airport embrace
on a moving sidewalk, unexpected delays
with the aplomb of a well lived life's
long term sustainability perspective
when he kisses her hand for no reason,
while driving 75 miles per hour,
she only winces internally,
the other hand vise-grasping
the other door's handle,
who brushes hair wisps in a dark movie,
celebrating her Bathsheba Everdeen's
duality of strength and tenderness
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when on second date he proposes
a non-exclusive relationship,
confident enough to high-five respond,
and laugh about it,
seven years on
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when she reads it,
analyzing the oeuvre as
"too **** personal and
as usual
too **** long"*
that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her
cuddling abilities
in everything...
even a little occasional criticism
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
Okay but get this.
He said to me, you know my love for you is unconditional right
HA. I laughed in his face.
In my head I was thinking...you know the definition of unconditional love, right?
Because your love is anything but unconditional.
It is absolutely situational.
Your unconditional love is heavily affected by one condition, therefore disqualifying it as unconditional love.
So don’t lie to me.
Don’t tell me your love is unconditional, when you don’t love me under certain conditions don’t tell me that lie.
I’ve never understood why people tell that lie why that make that commitment when they’re not ready to.
It should be that simple it should be that cut and dry.
Don’t tell me you love me don’t tell me you care unless you’re **** well going to back it up with your actions.
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 11:51 AM UTC
i remember this one conversation
with such clarity it alarms me
in the dead of night
with a longing for ecstasy
seeping through his tone he asked me,
"could..you imagine....what..life...would be like...if we weren't..mentally ill?"
and with that question
my hanging heart
sunk even lower into its pit
due to jealousy and frustration
for my cursed blessing
and i was confused on how
for i had believed my heart already laid
at what i'd thought to be
rock bottom
well besides that,
he did provoke me
to question
is there is a chance
for my heart to find
its rightful place
in my body
yet again?
and maybe along with it
all of my chemical receptors,
and my neurological network of pathways
could all find their own
harmonious balance and natural sources
of dopamine, serotonin, and epinephrine
and have them work "flaw"lessly
just, way they were originally created to
when the goddess of mental
crafted these things with such care
and gifted those beautifully painful things
to humankind
****
the unholy things i'd do to obtain
the goddess of neurotypicality's
scientific? spiritual? situational?
whatever the **** is in her elixir of secret
for mental peace and serenity
that few were blessed with unconditionally
to me it just sounds like magic
but back to him the only way i could reply
was with,
"i could only dream"
for i believe
in a lifetime of mine past
i may may have made a deal
with the devil of neurodiversity,
a fallen angel without malice,
who simply forgot
to grant me the knowledge
of how i would be reborn
into a world
where its society
would be unfit for me and my kind of mind
and with that thought lingering i added,
"but yeah...it must be nice"
Jun 10, 2021
Jun 10, 2021 at 6:27 AM UTC
All things are trivial
Loneliness just temporary
Love is worth it
And hate is pure waste
People come to you
And people go from you
Situational indifference
Nature is emotionless
So go about your day
Stay up and merrily
Let the river flow
But let the memory stay
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 10:27 AM UTC
dinner Greenport-side, watching the shuffling ferries do
their sworn duty, a back ‘n forth wearisome toll,
while we sip a rose and a PBR, respectively and with respect
no enthusiasm afterward for anything but an early off to bed,
and slip into pj’s asap
me in my knackered wholly Hanes fundie knickers,
no thinking required
but she
retires, re-attires in a summery combo,
a gray sweat t-shirt and green and white
plaid pj pants
which she is unawares are my favorites
cause they lop off fifty years,
a teenage woman re-incarnate recreated
cause her figure now womanly full,
better than then
morning awake l, a disturbance of the peace,
recall a snuggling a wake up hug,
and her bottoms conspicuously
gone missing
over break fast I inquire
over yogurt and berries and a
smoked mozzarella omelette,
what happened to those plaid bottoms?
assuming I was innocent of any transgressions
as best I could recall
with a sheepish childlike grin,
that made look like she was twenty again,
to match the now yoga toned body,
she confesses:
forgot to tie the bowstrings
and they slipped down to my ankles
blessed and cursed I thought!
too much of a gentleman to take advantage,
AND my situational awareness was slipping badly,
but when a poem comes across,
ready and pre-writ,
I’m still young enough to grab aholt of it
and never let go
6/23/18
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
I'm surrounded by the sounds of ******* idiocy
The television that never shuts off or up
The moronic laughter at the low brow sit-com
Do you realize the sound you emit
Your double digit I.Q. on display, gleaming
Made almost brighter in the technicolor
Not knowing, comprehending that it should clothe and hide
Itself
Mouth agape, eyes X-ed
Until the simple comments on the banal commentary
Start spilling out the neck
I can smell it and I want to wretch
May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 4:56 PM UTC
i've learned how to smell the circus
i've watched a black mongrel turn into a weasel
tonight the moon's nickname is
crooked betty
and the stars are
bleeding adam's apples
shining like a volcano
i wield a hacksaw and terrible excuses
my mouth is wet with jingle jangle
and situational confusion
everything is temporary.
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 11:58 PM UTC
"Throw ur ones up in the air
Throw ur ones up in the air for him
Throw ur ones up in the air
Throw ur ones up in the air for him
Throw ur ones up in the air
Throw ur ones up in the air for him
Throw ur ones up in the air
For the ones u put up will..."
Emancipate me
I usually throw my fist up but I throw up my one because "ur the one for me" it's conditional and its situational
Emergency...RED LIGHT
Call the authorities cuz it's fresh blood on the floor
Light crimson red oxygenated with the breath of love I feel from you every time your speak
It makes me weak to the point I fall to the floor of your arms open for me to come in but there was a slaying here
Like I said light crimson red and I'm O positive so I'm universal
Nope it wasn't a homicide...not a suicide but emergency shock trauma cuz I finally got what I want...what I was waiting for
Like a kid on Christmas Day my current need was satisfied
I'm a member of the I'm in love crew
But my arteries are getting slowly clogged from being scared
Finally it's out there
Some untold vulnerabilities have been out...out on the table
Joker...joker...king...queen...jack...10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...ace...club...spade...diamond...heart that goes out to you as I lay all my cards on the table
The enchanted love story seems to be blossoming but there are still some untold vulnerabilities cuz I jus don't understand ...
Dedication and devotion and allegiance and justice for me
Question mark so I jus bask in the ambiance of a new found love that is clearly sent from above
Haha corny right
So I jus
"Put my one up in the air
Put my one up in the air for him
Put my one up in the air
Put my one up in the air for him"
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 10:34 PM UTC
Don't "take" action...it doesn't belong to you.
Don't "take" action..."make" it instead.
Radioactive Reaction...I, Radio Re-Active
We make, Radioaction.
Iconoclashing against a faction Hell bent on Heaven sentiment.
Fictional filament tethered to the Town Hall Square Circular non-secular content.
Stitching Supra-stitious suspicion.
Weaving away, in the name of good faith.
Imperial pillows to suffocate un-resting heads
blankets of banners-it's story time to go to bed.
Yet here i sit...reaction-ing in script.
Creating activity...through creativity.
Cre-activity.
Recreational reaction.
Revolutionary open-caption inking passion with a digital pen.
"Make me"...such a passive statement with such a threatening proposal...a posing promise...a convenient conviction to tend.
A submissive request to influence choice over chance.
Change over circumstance...situational aggressive targets
subjectively objectifying a marketable stance.
"Make" action...don't just take it
Only then will it be yours to keep.
Jun 18, 2010
Jun 18, 2010 at 9:08 AM UTC
religion is dead
but the taste of butterscotch still lingers in my mouth.
I know it's freezing outside.
that's why I want you to hold me so bad,
it doesn't matter if it's you, it could be anyone,
but I know you need it just as much as I do.
I want to read you something
a little more meaningful than
a grocery list, and I want you to
smile more, but I want nothing to do with it.
I'm more situational than you seem to notice,
and I like how we can sit quiet and listen to nothing,
but I'd much rather hear your voice through the
haze of tension that seems to follow us, rather than
watch you sit alone on a welcome mat for depression.
I love you is a funny way of saying I love you,
but none of us really know what it means until
we know what it means, and I know how bad it
hurts when we lose what it means, but I'm sure
we'll find it again. Even if we have to be patient,
and scream a little, and **** someone worthless.
For what it's worth or how much you care,
I want you to know that I care, even if it's
only enough to dodge questions and push
boundaries and cross some t's or some lines.
You give me cold feet and hot cheeks,
but in the friendliest of ways.
Jan 9, 2011
Jan 9, 2011 at 8:59 AM UTC
*Ever since time immemorial
Even before the existence of now defunct phenomenon
Society’s had a stranglehold on “goodness”, a fact not entirely circumstantial.
On the high pedestal of “moral high ground” it’s stood, a loose canon
At the behest of “moralists” and “immoralists” alike
Malleable to all manner of situational conundrums
Rubber-stamping all manner of questionable theatrics with lord like
Patronage, this artistic fashioned manner of duplicity detailed in compendiums
Of information passed down from generation to generation
“For posterity’s own good”
Rhetoric construed
To imply the wellbeing of every individual born.
Subject to the above I implore society to effective immediately
File for moral bankruptcy in the court of public opinion, humbly.*
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 4:34 AM UTC
I'm glad that when I was younger my family fed me with enough candies, So i would never exited with random free candies. I just take it, and say thanks. Since denied an offer is impolite. Plus you don't want overly excited over a random candy, and regret later. (E.g. Someone might kidnap using the candy tactic. Or your candy might be a drug). The sweetness of the candy doesn't last forever, you need some like your family to supply you with enough dose of sweetness, without demand something in return. How would we found the sincere candy supplier? My tip, situational and textuality of the candy.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 6:24 PM UTC
Original origami
feng shui of the tai chi
Lao Tsi
tao becomes all becomes tao
but for now
all becomes crazy
so funny, circumstances of life
like a silly little jigsaw puzzle citcom
situational irony,
"Oh, let's invite him!"
Oh, let's re-visit a drunken nightmare
too incoherent to say "stop"
thoughts stuck at the back of a throat
let's choke our chakras for a bit
get our green juices and black juices good and mixed up
like a splatter painting
****
I wish
kept it in like a champ
my own personal fault
too bro to be ***
not bro enough to be respected
interjected with comments, admissions
such nice compliments from terrible mouths
I know I can handle my liquor
I handle a lot
with shrugs and smiles
more liquor
just hand over the bottle
show you sometihng real impressive
ever seen a girl go super saiyan?
Humble be thy game
shallow be thy name
gnoming around
oh please, get a grip
even in boarderline unconsciousness
I know you don't find me that intriguing,
that brilliant,
just another girl too nice to hit
too paralyzed to think.
Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 12:39 AM UTC
Depression doesn’t loosen its grip when I am caught off guard by a joke / and it is funny enough to make me snort and that only makes me laugh at the embarrassment I feel from snorting / it’s still there coiling quietly while reloading its fangs with venom / ready to strike whenever I start to feel something good is happening / that maybe this whole life and art and love thing is worth taking out my paper and pencils and pens and brushes and paints for / and maybe just maybe give some hope to dreaming like I did back in my youth / back when I thought more about my potential / I thought more about my abilities / I thought I could do anything / I thought I would do anything / I thought love... / I thought love was within reach.../ somewhere with someone... / I wouldn’t say I really suffer from any serious forms of depression / more of just “situational” depression /like I hate my job “depression” / I hate my ability to procrastinate so well “depression” / I hate the way I carry so much self loathing “depression” / the I hate my “life” depression... / you know / situational “depression” / and the situation only being the situation of being alive “depression” / but it comes and goes / slithering quietly through / from my mind through my heart / back and forth / waiting silently for anything I might feel or think that it might want to strike out at and strangle and swallow head first / its nice like that / to not always be present in every thought of every day / but never to far away / never gone for good / I mean theres a lot in this world and this life to be depressed about / how horrible would it be to not be able to feel depressed...oh man, I almost snorted...
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
Fall has come and brought with it a sudden change in energy.
The exhaustion of overheated air now calmly cools to a fresh breeze.
The smell of wet fire nights slowly takes place of *** waxed mornings,
As a warm breath makes its way from toasting your skin to soothing your heart.
A state of situational change commences internally as the external world converts the earth.
Gaia is transforming her body as you renovate your soul.
Each day dawns in gold, trimming the rims of wise leaves.
Nature’s acumen is on display.
She is the only being equally as beautiful throughout her entire life.
Time will never age her, for her heart is eternally youthful.
She lives off the love of those who fuel her being and protect her beauty.
Contrary to popular belief, she is not immortal.
Slowly she is poisoned by ignorance and disrespect.
The souls of the wicked eat her light and mask their meal in meaningless schemes and machinery.
She stands no chance in a world of egocentricity.
Her only hope is archaic revival.
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 2:55 AM UTC
I discovered roller coasters for the first time after I saw my therapist
She told me I had
OCD, DID, ADD, and an eating
disorder She told me to keep it simple and
stop trying to please others I told her to set herself
on fire I decide to take my damaged ass to an amusement
park and tell the drive I’m allowed I’m 5’4 You’re a ***** I spit
on him and jump into the car I defy gravity by myself on this tipsy turvy
future mobile I go up and into space and ride through clichés until my overalls
Snap off and set me free where I float without medication Snap out of it, you hairy
**** You never know how it feels to lose control until you’ve lost all control She never
Knew With the giant pebbles and water cascading downwards in a freefall And the terrible
feng shui that parts her massive thighs point my eyes into her pant stain while my entire head
falls down for the bottom A sick endless cycle of torture just like
the Mexican chanting annual melodies
…at a Tucson establishment
…sitting on truck tables at the doctor’s office
…cutting off DNA into style
…fighting off fever with drive by flu shots
So I count to 5
while I
make hot cocoa
And tap the doorway
I try on 4 different pairs of pants
eat an entire bag of Cheetos and
throw up
It’s all situational and relative and ridiculous
I don’t care if some 14 year old wears orange lipstick and
***** off her math teacher
Tell me Doctor what’s the diagnosis for my sick bluish foot
Oh you’re right I guess I do need to vacate the premises
The Land of the Lepers exists and we have renamed it “America”
Mar 11, 2010
Mar 11, 2010 at 10:57 AM UTC
It's untitled because I'm still dreaming it up
designing their costumes
applying their make-up
I think one of them should say funny things
bringing the audience to their knees
Yeah...
the ideas are pouring in
Okay, I've got it
Act I
FADE IN:
that's where I'll begin
You never know what Zoe will say next...
she'll be hysterically funny, and very complex
(playing my protagonist)
bringing bubbles of joy
(even to my antagonist)
Yeah..
Zoe tends to do funny things
not even realizing the laughter she brings
because everyone will see themselves
in the situational stories she tells...
Act II
Zoe loses her shoes...
she thinks they're magic
(it will seem quite tragic)
maybe you'll cry
and, you won't know why
you'll just find it sad
to watch a person that's normally so happy, and glad
just to be in this world
to have emotions that swirl
you'll be cheering for her
to get back to the way things were
before she thought she lost her shoes
the ones she thinks are magic
(she's gonna have the blues)
I'll write a transition here
it comes from, Carlos Diaz, he'll be a true friend...
(he'll help her transcend)
Act III
Zoe finds her magic shoes
(but she'll have to pay some kind of price, or fee)
I'll have her find a key that will make her see...
that she can get back to the way things were
before she began to swerve
thinking life had way too many curves
(it seems so unlike her)
Yeah, he'll help her get back to the beginning
when she found humor in the darkest places
even in the eyes, and expressions of the all the strange faces
that had been tossed her way...
because her imagination was busy at play
Yeah..
You'll be so happy for her
that she's finally back to the way things were
her friend, Carlos Diaz...
he'll be the one to remind her of all the joy she can bring
(by this point you'll all want to sing)
because Zoe can find humor in almost anything.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 1:52 PM UTC
Do you know who I am? Do you understand why I do what I do and think what I do is exactly what should be done? Do you have even the slightest respect for my decisions? For who I am? Do you know who I am?
That’s alright. Neither do I.
If I have said it once, then I best say it over and over and over again until you start listening: I feel like I'm underwater. I am in deep oceans, not blue or pale waters, but a horrible, dark abyss. I am drowning in a strange love for the spin-offs of truth, dignity, and cultural revolution. Now that is situational comedy.
My world is composed of nothing but reruns. Clips of him drowning on repeat. And when I drown, he drowns too.
I pray to find the sun so that I may trade all that I have for its warmth to melt the ocean into sky, and this glass from my skin. I don’t need to keep my heart shatterproof, I am no porcelain. I am an independent. Fill my flooded lungs with fresh smoke. Make the water go. Make the bad go. Go. Going. Gone. The sun is gone. All that I have is my fragile body, my *** I am under sexed, overlooked, and infinitely exhausted of these nonsensical rants. If I could sketch a message into the night sky it would plainly read: I feel like I'm underwater.
So here, in these reefs, will I search for my meaning. But I think it’s best we all come to terms with the plain truth: Submergence is submission. And I refuse to submit to your societal pressures. I will decide what is wrong. I will say what is right. If I wish to empty my lungs of this saltwater, find the sun above the surface, and turn off the abhorrent sitcoms I cannot submit. I can only drown.
“Not another one! Look at him, look at him!” she yells.
His veins are coursing, pulsing, shattering at the edges with blue. He is blue in both his complexion and complex feelings and thoughts and pains. His veins are blue, and he is cold. Can you smell his insatiable mind? Taste the metallic crush of his sanguine? “This world is intolerable, and I must not tolerate,” she reads from his tear stained note. The ripe stench of escape burdens our minds as we watch his soulless body hang. My mind is escaping. Toss the rug over the barbed wire and run. Run. Sanguine with ketamine. Run, ****** run.
Do you know how to drown? That’s alright. Neither do I.
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 3:00 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Original Lyrics By Fleetwood Mac
Situational views with over determination ,
I don't need a judge or a saint , thanks for consideration,
Poked eyes don't see the evils that go on in this country,
Some people could hear them calling from hell , it must be comfy,
Plant life can't even really get a stance without people building buildings
Over them , there ain't a chance,
But nothing to a country boy that just works with his hands,
But not in a country so doped by wickedness , do you understand?
Listen As My Heart Grows,
Watch us all rise.
Running towards the Meadows,damn deciet,
**** your lies*
And if you don't love me now,
While your heart is dipped in sin,
*I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain",
(Never break the chain)
You've broke my soul somehow,
We can't just sit here and pretend,
*I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain",
(Never break the chain)
Listen As My Heart Grows,
Flowers all in sight.
Running In The Meadows,hide the dark,
Embrace the light,
Your Love is stricken,damn deciet,
**** your lies*,
And if you don't love me now,
While your heart is dipped in sin,
*I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain",
(Never break the chain)
You've broke my soul somehow,
We can't just sit here and pretend,
*I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain",
(Never break the chain)
And if you don't love me now,
While your heart is dipped in sin,
*I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain",
(Never break the chain)
Never break the chain,
Never break it with your family,
Never break the chain,
Never break it with your friends to be,
Let the link be stronger like protecters,
Keep your enemies,
Closer, in world full of broken hearts and a lot disclosure,
Is a lot to be saying for a kid that lives Florida,
We need closure for these posers that make greed a rare exposure,
Ain't no,
Signed sealed deliver **** when it hits the fan,
And nowadays being a man that dies is mostly a black man,
My opinions just stirs up so much conflict in comforting someone about the
Truth and it's allegiance,
Killings happen , it repeats and,
Don't let them open up the season.
Chains keep us together,
(Run into the shadows)
Chains keep us together,
(Run into the shadows)
Chains keep us together,
(Run into the shadows)
Chains keep us together,
(Run into the shadows)
Chains keep us together,
(Run into the shadows).
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 11:25 AM UTC
We shifted speeds on the overpass and spiraled forward into the future.
But I mean, where else would you go?
The byways turned into highways that turned into skyways,
and I fell out of the car every time Id blink.
Open swiftly and the terminal second was subliminal past,
lives Id never known yet felt so full of.
In the car I was whole
human
and heart beats and
didnt need anything
but the wind in the
window
and the lights past
buildings in a
blur.
Somewhere else I was traversing through fate,
guiding lights towards Atlas that he may drop his burden and see.
-P.S.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 1:37 AM UTC
What is love?
I believe i'm close.
Once I was the victim of love at first sight.
It was a moment of euphoric happiness.
then was that not it?
not so much the person, but more of the moment.
so in a since wouldn't you want to always find these tiny moments?
just a being in life looking for pure moments of love?
isn't that life? billions of tiny moments intrinsically one with a bigger moment?
let us find the people that give us these perfect moments and surround ourselves with them.
let us focus on the moment and thrive there, because that is when we are the happiest.
when one thinks outside they moment they begin to find sadness, or sorrow.
the past, the present, and the future, not the present as situation.
situational present is not the same as current moment because the situation or problem is brought on by the past or the future which creates sadness.
happiness is present moment that is un-situational.
stay in the moment.
that is love, life, now.
some people already live like this, unknowingly or knowingly.
it would not matter.
these few are fortunate and the found ones.
they do not frown, they do not attach.
they love, and thrive with the ones who love.
together they will change the world not purposely or knowingly.
they will change there own realities and the world will change with them.
What is love?
I believe we are close.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 5:32 PM UTC
Here we go again
Falling down the rabbit hole
Gray color schemes
Are starting to take control
And my life is passing in fastforwarded short scenes
That express things spinning out of control
But this is not a dream
Nor is it a movie
This a warning sign
That I'm going down a familiar road again
And it pains me down my gut
And my chest
And my heart
And my strength has gone soft
And I dont know if I want to want, anymore
I don't see a way out, anymore
Solutions Ive built with my own hands
Have collapsed so many times
And my hands are sore
And I dont want to want, anymore
I've lost the want to want anything
And this feeling, a bell it rings
And I think am falling down the rabbit hole.
And the people around me they dont seem to care
And I'm scared
I'm really scared
And the people around me are just concerned with one's self.
Even though any concorn for me it ******* helps
And this lifestyle is hell
Its a slippery slope to depression
And I think Im going down the rabbit hole again ..
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
had a dream
red sun rises
old west feeling
low brim hat
eye, locked
m22
whiskey, no gin
oak (dark wood?) table
or wine?
i don't know enough about it
rust, ****** hair, beard
writing
parchment
window pane
light-natural-through the
window pains
cloths
fine fabrics
fine point pens
old poems
about old feelings
falling out
of notebooks
i should still
be
writing in
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
It seemed your hands could mold me
into whatever you deemed appropriate that week,
while I let you do whatever you pleased.
We collided at rapid speeds,
and neither of us would ever
accept blame for the damage done.
Now, after the destruction has ceased
to amuse you, you've moved on.
You've no bow, and no arrow,
but always a target, nonetheless.
Each one always harder than the last.
In the end, we'll still be friends
bound by mutual and situational obligations.
We'll run from the awkwardness
and try not to drown in the depths
of denial, for a little while.
After that, things will most likely be normal,
because astronomically, grudges aren't my forte,
and you're just oblivious to the pain
you've caused me. In the mean time,
I'm nobody's girl, and if you were to ever
come crawling back, it'd be something like
handing me your weapon so I could practice my own shot.
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC