It's been edited, and now I will be posting more recent poetry.
i am nothing to you.
like a swollen lip
you will bite down upon.
gashing wounds
feel no pain
since the senses fail
within this pin cousin.
once more i am
stuck between the veins
pulsating muscle spasm
that twists your legs at night.
what drowns it out?
the screaming music
played inside the mind.
nothing hurts more than your silence
a bitter tasting symphony
with black violins
breaking strings upon
the drums of my ear.
have mercy on me
if i cant save myself
maybe i can at least
try and save you.
The dew drops
across a harmonious land.
freckles,
bounce against my skin
while lights flash
decoding signals
between the spaces
as my black eyes
eclipse the sun.
Why do we dream in black and white?
When the colors are so vivid.
my wasted imagination
view points are for people who don't care
about reality.
The smallest amount of time-
you can never have it all.
So like the rain
I too will fall,
into the moment.
no rhyme or rhythm
can explain
watching life.
Like I do.
Attack
the cadavar.
put together like a jigsaw puzzle.
Bitter Broken Bones
tied ever so neatly
brought together
like a bloody package of love
unprotected.
For the moment
damaged-
yet beautiful.
The eyes scream
like an opera,
A pale wedding dress
left to rot
in the back of the closet.
Velvet
softly stitched across the arms,
a mummified princess
who reins the living.
She fades
under the heat lamps
magnifying every mistake.
Always under inspection
there is nothing left to pick apart.
Maybe now that shes gone
we can see
how we are suppose to look.
Not to dream but awake
A smile so forgotten like the pages of the
dictionary that once you read them
each comes back to life as
animated teardrops-
it's always the same color
black as night falling
down, down, down,
like pearls from the ocean, a stream of
consciousness, where fish bob their heads for
imaginary apples in a
carnival of colors,
a twirling rainbow of confusion until,
you remember why you closed your eyes
not to dream but
awake from the nightmare.
Personality flaw
artificial love, like a “coin operated boy”
which knows exactly when you are going to cry.
A song, manufactured by the sighing of teenage girls,
repeat on the radio broadcast from his mouth.
The arms cling against your heart, as if trying to remove your soul.
The bold words on his chest read, “broken hearts can be mended”
which really means everything can be replaced,
When even love is bought and sold.
melt away the wax surface
arms like rings
wrap around the flame
which taunts them.
Pain
but not from the fire.
A circus tent of memories
charges like an elephant,
swallowing shapes-
pink fluffy clouds-
as dots
upon the sideshow's face.
Arms become weak
as shadows fall.
Dripping wax
dancing in the glare
of a crystal ball.
Pearls of wisdom
Drop like pages of the bible.
You cant refuse these words,
Likely advise for the weak hearted.
Lullabies swoon your face
As a child sings softly.
Altered stories,
Twisted fate,
Colliding effortlessly
Between ears
And eyes.
let confusion set in and get lost in the rain.
It's only a song
The swan
A gentle swan breaches her head
above the waters as we glide along
like a streaming wave,
A Fountain of hands
Spreading against the wind.
Who are we when our dreams fabricate?
Breaking away from the freedom of mind
To the chains-
Like stones paving the way
To the reality of brick.
Cold drops fall,
I feel frozen.
Pounding against the wall
Who is the swan?
An illusion
Or
A caged animal
a part of you
i can feel my heart stop
its a huge drop
down the stairs
hair flying
in a roller-coaster
maybe im dying.
a twitter,
tongue slips
and you cant remember why
my hands are shaking.
maybe it's a memory
that makes everything slow down.
it possessed me
this frustration
when im around you
the energy stops,
and i am lost
waiting for the snow to clear
the antenna to rise
and life-
to be normal again
time
we pass like the second hand
making marks into days
existence willing to make a mockery of us
time,
an idol we create
through persistence and perfection.
do you remember a moment with out time?
frustration gone
release...eternal?
or are we machines
syncronized to project
these ticks
and tocks.
like a car
we pass it all
not noticing each breath
thought or action.
were watching-
the clock..
wondering,
is it all wasted time?
