"wince" poems
when you went away it was morning
(that is,big horses;light feeling up
streets;heels taking derbies (where?) a pup
hurriedly hunched over swill;one butting
trolley imposingly empty;snickering
shop doors unlocked by white-grub
faces) clothes in delicate hubbub
as you stood thinking of anything,
maybe the world….But i have wondered since
isn’t it odd of you really to lie
a sharp agreeable flower between my
amused legs
kissing with little dints
of april,making the obscene shy
******* tickle,laughing when i wilt and wince
15k
Dodge cars and **** self confidence
Go round and **** compliments
Incompetence of divine providence
Confess but stay anonymous
To helmets that give fake safety
Say they deliver you safely
To something that kills when i taste thee
Vindictive to past
But past is obdurate
Killing a cause that i cant its innate
Grows to inflate
Changes this fate
Or cant its to late
Loose weight
Deflate
Bend back to stay straight
Drift far to relate
So ill **** your self confidence
You- theres everything wrong with it
**** and never be the same as since
Cry but be silent
Flinch but don't wince
And dodge cars while i can
I got hit
Every time that i ran
But still run
When i wish
I could sit
Know that i won't
But still pray to be hit
So ill **** your self confidence
And
Dodge cars while i can
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 4:24 PM UTC
Your caress is silky and creamy like butter
And my darling, I'm afraid that your lingering touch will give me diabetes
Your heart crumbles like flour when I press mine against it
And beads of sugar hang like dew upon your lashes
Maybe if I blended you up into cookie dough
And baked you at 350 for 15 minutes until you were golden brown
Then I wouldn't be afraid to stroke your resplendent face
Perhaps I wouldn't wince at the thought of pressing my ear against your chest
Just to hear your confectionary heart quiver
And there wouldn't be the slightest trepidation when I kissed your intoxicating tears
But I'm afraid that I'll leave you in for too long
And your saccharine core will harden and reek of soot
And with the slightest touch, you'll be reduced to ash
And your cremated remains will get frightened at the accusatory wail of the smoke detector
And they'll seek refuge in my oven's crevices
Never to be seen again
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 7:35 PM UTC
Russia and America circle each other;
Threats nudge an act that were without doubt
A melting of the mould in the mother,
Stones melting about the root.
The quick of the earth burned out:
The toil of all our ages a loss
With leaf and insect. Yet flitting thought
(Not to be thought ridiculous)
Shies from the world-cancelling black
Of its playing shadow: it has learned
That there's no trusting (trusting to luck)
Dates when the world's due to be burned;
That the future's no calamitous change
But a malingering of now,
Histories, towns, faces that no
Malice or accident much derange.
And though bomb be matched against bomb,
Though all mankind wince out and nothing endure --
Earth gone in an instant flare --
Did a lesser death come
Onto the white hospital bed
Where one, numb beyond her last of sense,
Closed her eyes on the world's evidence
And into pillows sunk her head.
9.8k
The fiscal snare is drawing tight
Putin’s day... now courting night,
Rouble tilts vertiginously
To Satan’s **** religiously.
Fiscal snare is drawing blood
A trickle then... is now a flood,
Russia’s central bank adjusts
But ineffectually, combusts.
Hard line prospects elbow dance
Aligning for assasins lance.
Perhaps….
Better now, the Devil known
Than facing down an Unknown throne…..
Facing down an Iron call
With finger poised in nuclear thrall.
What choice now for ego’s Prince
Retreat from Eastern Ukraine’s wince?
Retreat Crimea’s balmy shores
To face the nationalistic howl of hordes?
Brinkmanship…the other way
A gamble that the West might sway?
Either way the game is up
Now bitter wine brims Russia’s cup.
M.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
In this space and time, that we call memories,
Eyes closed tight…we wince to recall special moments long gone.
Some, we merely exist to relive, and others are meant for painful lessons learned.
Strumming through the cobwebs, we coerce ourselves through this jaded door,
Only to find, this time, a feeling of sorrow followed by expressions of grief.
Like a bank account, we deposit memories daily,
Some are easily recalled and others are over and done.
It’s those memories that reside within our hearts that cause special remembrance,
And miraculously, we have the ability to morph these from anguish to memories of tranquil joy!
Sending a smile and all my love to you…….. I’ll be watching for you in the stars.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 4:50 PM UTC
Dogs take new friends abruptly and by smell,
Cats' meetings are neat, tactual, caressive.
Monkeys exchange their fleas before they speak.
Snakes, no doubt, coil by coil reach mutual knowledge.
We then, at first encounter, should be silent;
Not court the cortex but the epidermis;
Not work from inside out but outside in;
Discover each other's flesh, its scent and texture;
Familiarize the sinews and the nerve-ends,
The hands, the hair - before the inept lips open.
Instead of which we are resonant, explicit.
Our words like windows intercept our meaning.
Our four eyes fence and flinch and awkwardly
Wince into shadow, slide oblique to ambush.
Hands stir, retract. The pulse is insulated.
Blood is turned inwards, lonely; skin unhappy ...
While always under all, but interrupted,
Antennae stretch ... waver ... and almost ... touch.
7.1k
your face went on every
milk carton in my dreams
when you went missing
& i listened to a song
about how the churches
in your hometown
were built from the martyred mahogany
of shipwrecks
i dare you
to think i can't rip
the very mood
from your temperate fingertips
when i am cold
and hell bent
on seeing you oceans away, wince
this is not an
"i saw this coming all along" poem
or a "i still wonder about the moments between breaths when your phone lights up" poem..
this is a will & a way
with brass knuckles
maybe a barehanded bludgeon
but i swear i'm trying
to sleep at night
without wondering how cold
it is in your bed.
so mother goose
tell me about
the whispered prayers
crammed into the earthquakes
you call hands
about an ennui
that speaks to me.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
Feelings passed and hours are gone.
Distracted by these demons
Of right and wrong.
Anxiety now at its prime
Id wince and cry
Or count the hours to the time I'd die.
Alone I feel, within this space.
Slicing my arms in disgrace.
Her face still stuck in my mind.
Her eyes, her hair, her lips which I find...
So tempting.
But I am only wasting my breath.
Shaking hands with ideas of death.
Hoping this pathetic pain will subside.
Till then this heartache is by my side.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
I tremble when you walk into the room.
You raise your hand and I wince.
I remember what you did to me.
Every second of every day;
I remember.
You don't care for me.
You don't love me.
You couldn't.
And I wouldn't want you to.
My life is difficult.
Living is difficult.
I can't continue life like this;
In fear.
I can't continue
life at all.
With each breath
I struggle.
With each step
I struggle.
With each word
I struggle.
I struggle because your actions have left a permanent scar.
Not only on my body, but on my soul.
I crave for relief.
For sanctuary.
And I know there is only one way I can find it.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 9:01 PM UTC
Deep within a leafy dell
There lived a hairy fairy
Who very often cast a spell
That was frightening and scary.
The only friend the fairy had
Was an old green warty toad,
He never thought the fairy bad,
Just lonely and old.
So he’d sit with her and croak
And watch her practice magic.
She very rarely often spoke,
This to him was tragic.
The fairy dress; the fairy wore
Had seen better days.
It was ***** tattered, creased and tore
The hem hung loose in frays.
Her head seemed always in a cloud,
He never saw her smile,
Her wand no longer taut and proud
But still she was not vile.
Somewhere inside he saw her love;
He longed to be her mate,
So he prayed to God above
And asked her for a date.
She thought he saw her as a joke.
He was playing with her heart.
Up she went, in a puff of smoke,
That gave the toad a start.
Never having seen this done before
He had a mixed-up feeling.
His warts and looks she must abhor
And she found him unappealing.
For days he waited there for her
Because he was alarmed;
A toad and fairy love was rare
He thought she might be charmed.
If she would only hear him out,
That he may just explain.
Then she, he felt, could have no doubt
His love just would not wane.
But if his looks she hated so,
Then this he’d have to take.
He’d just hop-off; away he’d go,
Take bravely his mistake.
He realised, ‘how sad it is,
I never asked her name.’
With one loud bang and mighty ****
Back to his side she came.
“It occurred to me, you might be kind,
My name is Nuff,” the fairy cried,
“And I can read your mind.”
“Fairy Nuff,” the toad replied.
Then she kissed him on his cheek
A shock that made him wince.
Before he had a chance to speak
He was a fairy Prince.
She was beautiful and young,
Like his clothes, hers were new.
A love that’s ‘Magic’ is not wrong
Especially for these two.
Dec 7, 2009
Dec 7, 2009 at 11:13 AM UTC
she wears her jewelry proudly
purple, sometimes green,
maybe yellow
but it is always
beautiful.
she will tip back her head
and show you her
long neck and you
are overcome by the sight
of such
beauty
in one person.
sometimes she wears bracelets,
delicate
purple bands encircling
her dainty
wrists
and the colors are so beautiful.
she hardly ever wears rings
but for the purple one,
maybe an amethyst
that sits upon one of her fingers
and she will flinch
even wince if you try
to touch it.
but sometimes, maybe just once or twice,
you might even manage to
forget
that her necklace,
and those lovely bracelets
and that beautiful amethyst
which she wears so very proudly
is made up of
fingerprints.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
The solitude of when two hands meet garners thoughts of warmth and want for needs unspoken
I miss the days when simplicity was as common as the delicate exhale shared when two lips release from one a other
To gaze through sultry windows of the soul, soft yet weary with fervent witness, beckons notions of wanderlust to a place that shines brighter than any I've ever seen
I watch, bound by valor for not seeking more through presumptuous ineptitude; bewildered by the plight you've been mired by, I wince at the thought of harm coming to you
Your trust exudes a powerful purpose; wrought from the ashes of all that have claimed to impose before, I succumb to the surfeit of such a staggering meaning in that gift
I hold myself in bated breath for the day you would ever need my heart for your own, but stay guided to be here in spirit, ever more
Although my basic wishes be forlorn, in somber muse I find great purpose to be a part of this grand fate bestowed upon me
You are all I've ever sought; and through disbelief, I am remiss of all that's mired me before
If only, one day, perhaps we could be more..
Dec 23, 2017
Dec 23, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC
known to all that he had lost,
all that is valuable within him.
kneeling down in pure exhaust.
and now, cutting emotions in his world so dim.
shush the wind for its noise,
hear his heart wince in pain.
imagining their voice,
hear the cry of the rain.
at last, he showed the emotions.
turning his back on the facade he shows.
arguably the man showed no motions,
keeping the tears that continually flows.
etched in his heart is the still of mourning and grieving.
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 10:32 PM UTC
deli meats and cheeses
i look past them at soft crinkling smiling faces
and i drink my java
warms up my hands and ******* and i sweat
in my coat
walking up and down the isles
I see trail mix
and sunchips
and sweet sweet sweets
the yummies
that i adore
chocolates
especially
dark chocolate cocoa orange cherry strawberry berry red brown
it's the sweetness and saltiness
of summer time ice cream
It's the cold crispness
of carrots and snap peas
It's the warmth and comfort
of big muffins and a plate of hashbrowns
at Perkin's
after a stressful morning
spice smells
of pad tai noodles
sourdough bread, fresh baked
crunch crunch on the outside
soft hot squish
inside
(save that part for me, i eat them separate
-you laugh)
how many times did we
laugh
about how you ate that bug
and we were never picky
*cherries
all those cherries.*
we ate nutella
on bread,
washed it down with cold organic orange juice
from a cafe neither of us had ever heard of
and tofu
tofu tofu
always cooked perfectly (we wondered how they do it)
(i still don't know)
chocolate, melting slowly
"you missed some."
-------just an excuse to kiss me.
i giggle
peanut m&m;'s
turn my tongue colors.
Watermelon at a potluck
wedding cake
cheesy potatoes
and an extra helping of bread
(we laughed so hard at the white bread, squished into a cube)
ruby red
made you wince
I drink it straight from the bottle
and smile
remembering every kiss
that tasted of grapefruit
in that tent
every kiss that tasted of salt
from the eggs?
or from the sweat on your lips
the sweat on your lips.
we kiss more
i smile into your lips
i remember that, especially
we never got sick of each other
nutella on everything, now.
especially on s'mores
i smile with every memory
i put my hands in pockets, the cold rushes to meet my face
in the ice cream aisle
i cool down as i graze
through the tubs or corn syrup and double churned triple churned
cream with extra fudge
sherbet
i chuckle to myself
memories memories
of sitting up high
with you,
sand on our toes
chocolate caramel fudge coffee
on our tongues
love
in our hearts
you remember.
the taste of that summer
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 8:12 PM UTC
If my heart was a seed
And sprouted veins
That wanted to bloom
The bud would be you.
Blue petals of a Forgetmenot
That he picked
And quietly said "she loves me, she loves me not".
I would wince with each *****
In marvelous pain.
Closing in on each moment that you held the fragile stem between strong fingers.
Every bit would float away with the wind,
Casting your wishes into the sky.
When the stem is finally bare
And you thow it to the ground
I'll be left for dead,
But just know she loved you.
And as the remaining wilts
You'll be forgetting
But I will always be remembering
Hoping all your wishes come true.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
A dancing Bear grotesque and funny
Earned for his master heaps of money,
Gruff yet good-natured, fond of honey,
And cheerful if the day was sunny.
Past hedge and ditch, past pond and wood
He tramped, and on some common stood;
There, cottage children circling gaily,
He in their midmost footed daily.
Pandean pipes and drum and muzzle
Were quite enough his brain to puzzle:
But like a philosophic bear
He let alone extraneous care
And danced contented anywhere.
Still, year on year, and wear and tear,
Age even the gruffest, bluffest bear.
A day came when he scarce could prance,
And when his master looked askance
On dancing Bear who would not dance.
To looks succeeded blows; hard blows
Battered his ears and poor old nose.
From bluff and gruff he waxed curmudgeon;
He danced indeed, but danced in dudgeon,
Capered in fury fast and faster.
Ah, could he once but hug his master
And perish in one joint disaster!
But deafness, blindness, weakness growing,
Not fury's self could keep him going.
One dark day when the snow was snowing
His cup was brimmed to overflowing:
He tottered, toppled on one side,
Growled once, and shook his head, and died.
The master kicked and struck in vain,
The weary drudge had distanced pain
And never now would wince again.
The master growled; he might have howled
Or coaxed,--that slave's last growl was growled.
So gnawed by rancor and chagrin
One thing remained: he sold the skin.
What next the man did is not worth
Your notice or my setting forth,
But hearken what befell at last.
His idle working days gone past,
And not one friend and not one penny
Stored up (if ever he had any
Friends; but his coppers had been many),
All doors stood shut against him but
The workhouse door, which cannot shut.
There he droned on,--a grim old sinner,
Toothless, and grumbling for his dinner,
Unpitied quite, uncared for much
(The rate-payers not favoring such),
Hungry and gaunt, with time to spare;
Perhaps the hungry, gaunt old Bear
Danced back, a haunting memory.
Indeed, I hope so, for you see
If once the hard old heart relented,
The hard old man may have repented.
4.6k
I looked to the stars to see what I could find,
and I sighed with exasperation at the wonders in sight.
For lo, behold, there were more than millions,
and poor old me, choosing one just wasn’t an option.
If you gaze at them all at once, you notice there is a sky,
but if you pick solely one, you find yourself willing to fly.
One of these twinkling wonders might be you someday,
for the world knows whom it should repay.
Focus on one tree, you lose sight of the forest.
But look at the forest, you lose sight of your tree.
Find your star, hunt it down, and you just might,
you just might, you just might,
absorb that glittering gold glimmer of light.
Then its all uphill from there,
as you shoot up,
and reach forward
and outward,
and suddenly,
you fall back down.
But this time, you have your star,
so climbing all the way up, it can’t be that far.
After hauling and hiking, you reach the top.
and as you gaze at the bottom, you start to wonder.
Wonder about what? I cannot say.
But you’re at the top, you have to stay.
Since it’s you who made it all the way.
L’appel du vide, you start to sway.
Then it hits you. It hits you hard.
Back you go! as you go down.
Down again, down on your knees!
But as you look in its eyes, your glittery golden glimmer lights it up,
and you can’t help but notice what wasn’t there before.
It cannot be, but surely, it is.
A trace of affection, gone as quickly as it appears.
As you get up, you swear it smiles,
and when it disappears with a gust of wind,
you bet on your life you heard it whisper,
I’ll see you at the top, you’ll get here quicker.
And you scramble up again, surefooted and strong,
as music surrounds you, life’s very own song.
Your ascent slows to a stop, and you look around.
Many are there, whom you never found.
And in the centre, who else could it be?
Your very good friend, whom you mistook for an enemy.
It glides towards you, and you don’t wince,
Because now you know, that which you’ve known long since.
Life pushes you down, not out of hate,
but so you learn, to open up the gate.
Now what did you learn? How can you explain?
What you’ve spent years on, things almost impossible to gain.
But you don’t give away the answer, it’s not yours to impart.
You must help out, pick up all who’ve lost heart.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 5:02 AM UTC
5? 6? 7?
(can’t be certain when exactly)
14.
17.
18.
He told me that it was okay.
Some will flinch at the touch.
Some will go into a daze.
Some - I - will crave the touch of strangers, and many at that,
to replace those days.
He told me that I was special.
I became careless and reckless
with love on accommodation sheets.
While I mistaken their meticulously placed words
for love that I thought was finally peace.
He told me that it wouldn’t hurt.
It’s 2:52am and my timeline is flooded
with girls and trials and underwears passed around in court
as if it mattered for the verdict.
The bags around my eyes are flooded
with tears of anger and hatred
as if to beg for some kind of justice.
They told me that I should be flattered.
But the thing is we haven’t been okay since.
It did hurt but we still needed ******* evidence.
We were already special before they took away our innocence.
And now all we can do is get angry and hurt and wince
at the stories like ours that social media has evinced.
We hope to god our daughters will never have a jury to convince.
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 9:19 PM UTC
The porch waits behind the glass
It empathizes as needed
I step on it once again
And smoke in its graces
A compress over the cliff
We aspire at Deveraux
once again to hear
the ocean's rhythmic advice
And I do wince, such a daunting way
upon the enraged sky
A tormented face
looking at impassioned ways
And now a visitor appears
another tormented face
under a gossamer spun
brazen reds opulent yellows
pale blues push through
as it unravels
with a photograph
Her porch vacant once again
Mine thankful of its owner
to give a futile roll of discontent
And once again we listen and gaze
And once again we inhale the salt air
And once I saw because I stayed
Four dolphins shoulder the sand
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 8:02 PM UTC
My mother she had children five and four are dead and gone;
While I, least worthy to survive, persist in living on.
She looks at me, I must confess, sometimes with spite and bitterness.
My mother is three-score and ten, while I am forty-three,
You don't know how it hurts me when we go somewhere to tea,
And people tell her on the sly we look like sisters, she and I.
It hurts to see her secret glee; but most, because it's true.
Sometimes I think she thinks that she looks younger of the two.
Oh as I gently take her arm, how I would love to do her harm!
For ever since I cam from school she put it in my head
I was a weakling and a fool, a "born old maid" she said.
"You'll always stay at home," sighed she, "and keep your Mother company."
Oh pity is a bitter brew; I've drunk it to the lees;
For there is little else to do but do my best to please:
My life has been so little worth I curse the hour she gave me birth.
I curse the hour she gave me breath, who never wished me wife;
My happiest day will be the death of her who gave me life;
I hate her for the life she gave: I hope to dance upon her grave.
She wearing roses in her hat; I wince to hear her say:
"Poor Alice this, poor Alice that," she drains my joy away.
It seems to brace her up that she can pity, pity, pity me.
You'll see us walking in the street, with careful step and slow;
And people often say: "How sweet!" as arm in arm we go.
Like chums we never are apart - yet oh the hatred in my heart!
My chest is weak, and I might be (O God!) the first to go.
For her what triumph that would be - she thinks of it, I know.
To outlive all her kith and kin - how she would glow beneath her skin!
She says she will not make her Will, until she takes to bed;
She little thinks if thoughts could **** to-morrow she'd be dead. . . .
"Please come to breakfast, Mother dear; Your coffee will be cold I fear."
4k
Dawn gently kissed the nape of dusk
Whilst patient time awaited peaking
Majestic streams of solar lust
Born via pre-orgasmic streaking
Saturn's rings exclusive ******
Equipped for sensual fancy
Mesmerized by daring billows
Elevated by buoyancy
Excitement steadily evolving
Cosmic spheres swiftly building
****** timelessly revolving
Licentious shock she is wielding
Dawn coloured blackened skies
Pleasure falling with each tear
****** baring lovely sighs
Passion with a wince of fear
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 1:30 AM UTC
A stripper does not command the same feelings
when there is no music
when there is rain
when there is **** beneath their feet
when there is no stage
when they are
naked.
Step off stage,
peel their eyes from your skin.
Layer after layer
of pervert,
of bloodshot,
wipe the trails of loathing
they leave behind.
Take a cotton swab to your navel
to dry your mother's tears.
These are nothing you haven't seen.
Find glass where it is not broken,
Break it.
Pull on your face until you can see your cracks
echoed in kaleidoscope reflections.
Let your tongue swipe your teeth
and slurp down the dollar bill smile.
Chase it with the cat that was
swimming in your eyes.
Imagine what you would look like dead.
Make silly faces in broken mirrors.
Turn away before they fade.
Shake your head in your hands
until music flies from your ears.
Shake harder.
Spill the hypnotic equilibrium they sold you
Watch the room start to sway.
Sit down.
Stand up.
Find your legs.
*****
Heave,
feeling there is much more poison
than will ever come out.
Cough into the air,
knowing your hands are sacred.
Wipe your memory on someone else's sleeve.
Walk to the door.
Let your profession slip from your shoulders.
Become human.
Become blending into the crowd.
Become busy with something in your hands.
Open the door, then your umbrella.
Do not breathe.
Take five steps forward and wait to exhale
until your hear the door slam behind you.
It isn't healthy to mix the sight of rain
with the smell of broken pianos.
Walk forward.
Out of your shoes.
Wince as the concrete speaks to your heel.
Bathe your toes in the nearest puddle.
Let your umbrella slide from the warmth of your hand.
Watch it fly.
Notice the people.
Move your sight from the ground
and rest it on their chins.
Realize you're wearing no clothes.
Pull the confidence down and off of your walk
and turn to the closest alley.
Step off stage.
Peel their eyes from your soul.
Become an individual.
Forget "the people."
Notice the persons
wrapped to their noses in professions and smiles,
confidence and ignorance pouring from their eyes,
heads tucked low beneath charcoal umbrellas.
Smile.
Without trying when you hear the clouds roar.
Stop when you find there are more walls than bodies
and the smell of ***** is stronger than your own.
Forget your smell.
Open your mouth.
Forget your taste.
Bend your knees and raise your head.
Close your eyes and feel it rain.
Scream.
Strip the religion from your prayers.
Scream the ineffable confession.
Forget your body.
Drink the rain.
there is no music
there is rain
there is **** beneath your feet
there is no stage
you are
naked.
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 12:02 AM UTC
Heart of mine
you ache
****** truth-teller
be silent.
As I lie here
alone
with my spirit flailing wildly
normalcy and whatshouldbe
hold a pillow
and smother its breath.
**** opressors
they are everywhere
they're in marriage
and picketfence
but some cellular drive
made me leave you for them.
I want you
so physically
and cry out in pain
as my heart begs and pleads
for the one that it loves.
I need you
you know me
my mirrortwin, completely
Never have I been so naked
as I am beneath your gaze
I look into a liquid reflection
that adores me,
ether,
bone.
I have simple words only now
they squeeze out of me
bloodied bullets
I wince as I extract them
my gutless runner's high of a promise of security
wears off now
and I notice and I notice
and I notice
the pistol lying comfortably in my own hand.
Oh! my love!
I feel I'm dying.
You were beauty......
On the wind now
the warm, bitter wind
you are gone.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC
One, and two, and two, and two
The people I saw to get to you
The door, the desk, the man, the bed
The thoughts of what you're going through
My face a distant helpless frown
My heart gave way when I saw you wince
My knees felt weak and Buckle-y
The thought, it came: I let you down
Control so far, we can't attain
Alternatives so distant now
Delete the wrongs this world wreaks
Loss too great, the horrid pain
A miscarriage of all our aims
No doctor can prescribe a cure
I finally scream in cathartic rage
"I thought this ******* comic was about video games"
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 8:36 PM UTC