Nov 27

Broken tears, Bruised fear

the bruises grow on her skin, blossoming like flowers across the pale sharp mountains of her shoulder blades… She loves you. You know this, and you love her back, but anger comes to you easier now, since you started drowning in the harsh smell of too much deodorant and alcohol. Every night she nurses you back from the brink of your livid state. Catching as you fall of the edge of your madness, and catching your blows as you toss them blindly. You wish it would just end. But that would be a mercy she refuses to provide. Your not surprised when you wake up one morning, sprawled on the floor the door wide open and home ravaged by your own drunken antics. She’s gone, you know she won’t come back. The person she fell in love with all those years ago has wasted away. . all thats left are the bruises, and tears that leak down the inside of your soul. 
Nov 14

Denial Will Fade.

time fades into a opaque blur
with a burning sensation
you ask me
but i dont know the answers anymore
frenzied lack of energy
and wishing i could simply
stop
who i am isnt as simple as it was
who i was . . .
who was i?
i dont think ive ever known entirely
though time and time again
ive searched others
hoping an epiphany lies within their subtle smiles
a glimpse of an explanation hides behind their swaying skirts
and neatly fashioned bowties
when all along
i knew
i just didn't want to
and so my denial would rise like a great ocean
angered by my own interference to myself
and broken i would fall
to the floor
looking up at the ceiling
wishing they were waves
to slowly wrench my breath from my still breathing body
i am blessed to have a body
though i may not like it for what it is
it serves me well
and holds me up through thick and thin
Nov 14

my, my, classy jazz

the click click of your high heels
you know we can hear your confidence before you even enter the room
and you like that
as the music sways over your head 
rolling like the hills i used to know
through your hair in waves with the wind
eyes lined with the color of dead coals
and lips the vibrant red
of an oozing cherry pie
the great slivery rings
sparkle like the stars
but remind me more of the moon
as they bob up and down
gently brushing your shoulders
your smart, yet relaxed composure
and impeccable taste in fashion
as you slide into your seat,
prideful
yet not arrogant
at the head of the table
you listen with feigned rapture to the ramblings of your peers
i catch your eyes, expecting a cold silence
however
the light brown of your irises is warm and comforting
with just a hint of excitement
like a spicy tea on a fall afternoon
Nov 13

hallucination buddy

on some nights
the world feels
broken
like the shattered pieces of porcelain
scattered
across the table
the hate
that pours from people's pores
like the anger in your eyes
what have i decimated now?
my sanity is just as faulted as yours
touch doesn't make it better
nor does the pain i feel when your words cut me
yet
i giggle at the harm
as you smile sickly sweet
soaks into me
who are you?
i dont know
but i'd rather you violate the feelings
you said dont exist
than have you love me the way you said
you would
the raindrops that fall down the window
the way you caressed my face
fingers long and cold
i hate you
but you like the way i fight
flounder for the breath you steal
the sound of glass breaking
like the screams that border on my lips
echos
you leave within my soul
and scars you have implanted inside my head
Nov 04
poem 1 comment challenge: Onward

A reminder for you

Sometimes 
my heart feels as though it will burst right out of its ribcage prison 
with the sheer amount of love I feel 
for each
and every
person reading this. 
You are amazing.
Your perspective is yours 
and nobody else's.
No other human on this earth can see things the way you do,
share things the way you share them,
or feel exactly the way you feel.
YOU
are the only you there is.
And I love that. 
I love you. 
I may not know you.
We may not agree on what is right and what is wrong.
You might say the sky is blue while I insist it is a light mauve.
However,
you still deserve to read my words,
to know you're loved
and to feel as though
for now
things will be OK.
Oct 27

Silver Oak

if i were to die
today or tonight
if my breath were to leave
out of the blue take flight
i wouldn't want you to cry
nor morn in painful silence
but rejoice, for the life I've lived has been splendid
no wooden box should hold me down
no tear sodden soil shall cover me for eons
bone to ash
and ash to wind
among the faded summer memories
and silver oaken leaves
take me away on a breeze
let me fly among the branches of the trees
i love this world to pieces
but someday my pieces will leave it
i do not wish for you to be sad when this happens
simply smile the way you do
and know
that i love you
and always will be singing
by the silver oak tree
don't miss me
ill always be here
in your head
and in your heart
keep me close and don't let my laughter part
from your memories of who i was
and who i may be tomorrow
beneath the silver oak
Oct 16

Tick. . . tock. . .

no moment can go unnoticed by time's watchful eye
no second can pass without my looking at the clock
no hand can move fast enough for me to be done with this tiresome work
but i'll push on and keep at it
until falling i find
my way into wonderland
inside my mind
tea parties and toadstools
insanity comes in a glass
drink it up drink it up!
this moment won't last
tick tock goes the clock
and gone is the day
yet i still find myself here
drinking away
from a chalice of thought
and a mug full of tea
piping hot
time is your enemy 
and lust an overly friendly aquaintance 
insanity is your world now
fall back you'll find it
somewhere amongst the stars 
that go out when you turn off the lights. 
Oct 16

The Boy In The Bowtie.


to know one's self  in all honesty and love
is a rare thing indeed
to have all the answers before you even ask
is impossible
or what is life but an enormous equation?
constantly adding and subtracting to find. . . . something
questions are a harmony of curiosity and the power to voice yourself
if one is to question the world around them
than one must question themselves as well as some point or another
some questions
only you have the answers to;
i look in the mirror
the shadow of who i was yesterday stares back at me
indifferent to my inward pain
i see no forgiveness in the face of the person i was
no space for error
no air to breathe
eyelashes come into view
and fade to blank eyelids
just me
and my thoughts
and . . . questions
i spend a long time in this world of imagined color and freedom i can practically taste 
i open my eyes again

pencil cartoons/working on my own style

Sep 21

The Freedom Seeker


 I pause on my way out the door
good bye
i whisper to the snoozing embers in the hearth 
good bye 
i say to the dust creatures in the corners 
goodbye i think
to the sleeping person in the room over
and with that
i step out 
into the early morning fog
my feet cary my further
and further
away from the place i call home
until out of the valley
and onto the mountain 
look how far you've come
gush the streams beside me
while the birds chirp their encouragement 
and the crickets rub their legs together in joy
to no road am i tethered 
to no path am i bound
no thoughts of my predecessors 
will determine my now
i am free of that life
that once let me down
but. . . looking back 
i see the smoke spiraling upwards
calling beckoning 
for me to come home
and why shouldn't i
i can always leave tomorrow. 

 

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