Sleepless nights of wonderSitting here wondering idling,what's wrong with my mind, it's playing tricks on me,playing videos in my mind.I'm full of thoughts of what has been,wondering idly what's coming in front.It's full of wonders, this night. Giving me the creeps,showing possible outcomes of my life.Ah, if only it was true,those things that my mind tells me about.Sleepless night makes me wonder if it's all right,if I am all right.There he lies sleeping soundly, like he has no worries about tomorrowhe sighs and snores and dreams hopefully.Not a worry about the next coming seasons',seams to pass by in his dreams, his thoughts.While these sleepless nights are keeping me up and about.Here I sit, this sleepless night, of all sleepless nightsand thinks, about how happy I am,how proud I'm off him.Now times tells me, that this sleepless night is over,although I am aware of that tomorrow has another sleepless night in store for me,as well as many other coming nights,to think about these thoughts
The star of my lifeThe star twinkling in the sky is mine,or at the very least that's what I thoughtbut now I'm not sureThat star is dim, or maybe the clouds are only in the wayI can no longer see it with my eyes.- Where are thou, my lovely star? You whom holds my heart?Always have you shined so stronglyshowing me the way and loving me, for me.Now I search the night for your ever glowing shine.Maybe day you might, once more, shine on meand accept me for me, loving me as you did once before.To me, you truly are the star of my life.
ConceptWhen the evening becomes shorterand the rain falls strongly.When the night calls for youdon't pay attention to the change of path.Perceive with vivid eyes the colour of the sunand look with unclouded spirit at the person at your side.Conclude with hard facts that the evidence is truethat when love is in the air, it's for you.To conceive with thoughts of worrythat you're to be alone in life,is to convince yourself that you're unworthy of love.The concept of imagining, is that you can make the visions come to life,that's if you believe hard enough in luck!Instil in your conscious the truth about yourself,and accept yourself as you're, then others will accept you as such!
ViolenceTo show you my sincerity over your wrongs, a blow I deal,to show you my love and my rage over your mistakes.I hand you a bruise, this,so that I later can show my sincere apology over my own rage.Then again even though it was you who made me do it,you made me show you where you went wrong.This is your repentance, the way I allow you pardon.So lie down and take it, because frailty, thy name is woman.Moreover you brought it upon yourself!I'm just bringing you to justice, when I deal my hand upon your cheekand leave that bruise for you to be shamed upon.Bow and take it and show your regret over your deeds.
predatorThe feelings are now gone, there is not reason for me to hang on.I will never forget how you won, by twisting my words for fun.The bonds between us have now been undone and I find myself starring at the sun.The sun turns from bright yellow into dull dun.With this turn I sense that life will take a different spun.The twist made me stun, yet again it made me run.It didnt matter how fast or long I was easily outrun.He and them stood before me again, each and one caring a gun.They want me back, so I could be the target for their sick fun.Ignoring theirs words, but they werent done.He walks up to me, speaks loving lies into my ear.My blood screams and my heart ponds in fear.His brown eyes that had held me captured for a year.The warm handsome smile now reminds me of a predators sneer.I just wanted to disappear, but then the puppeteer surrounded me with his adhere.No where to run, no where to rest and as frighten as a deer.I decided to finally stand my groun
a choice to makeThe changes in my life were abrupt,to many and all to fast for my liking!The past walked back into my life,not once but twice and so now I'm confused.The choice I have to make is complexand has too many outcomes.However no matter what the choice I make,itll be me who is hurt in the end,since its I who will invest in the choice.My future is on the line,depending on me making the correct choice.Cornered with no choice but to make the decision,while anxious about those itll affect in the long run.The time will soon arrive to demand an answer,an answer which Im afraid to give.The choice will result in me being in painand once again questioning myself.
DoubtIm numb; its like a blanket as wrapt itself around me.Numb, cold, totally isolated, that is some ways to explain my emotions.The snow outside mingles with my numb mind,its mixed up with the storm in my souland I can not find shelter from the harsh wind.How I wish there were some way of knowingwhether my life was made up by this or if this is my own fault.How I wish that I could stop wishingand just do something on my own.I can feel the excruciation pain of aloofness,which is my own fault for bearing around on my guiltyon display for the rest of the outside world to feel.Once again I find myself wondering if I can escape my own hell?Can I bring myself to actually open up my closed doorand draw away the blinders on my windows,to let in the light from outside?Can I bring myself to confront whatever fears and doubtthat I have about the outside world; can I bring myself to care?If I tell you that Im alright,
SeedI have devoted myself by putting all my soul into this hole.I have made a dent in your minds depth and there I planted a seed,similar to the one that was once planted in me.So I work hard in planting thoughts in people's head,thoughts/seeds that you will raise by your own values.So while it's the same seed as everyone got,it's still so different because of the way you raised it.And so one day it will have a seed of it's own inside its mind.It will get a chance to raise the seed into a plant,with its very own look on the world around.So many seeds once planted and now millionsof different views on reality and imagination.Millions of similar yet very different thoughtsas well as millions of voices wanted to be heard.
Harsh truthsJust harsh truths, that pulls at your skin.Just reality that pushes you down.All friends or just dreams?All good or is it all just façades?Just harsh truths, screaming from the edge.Don't let it pull you down into its depth.Make your stand and don't give up.Fight the life that was left behind.An angel will not appear, because you were not given one.But the demons will come to laugh at your expense.Ignore them and fight the depression that looms a head.Don't ignore them but listen to the cries underneath their eyes.Just harsh truths running freely into your ear,screaming at you that you're nothing worth.Don't listen to the fake truth or the truth that screams of lies.But don't ignore the vibrant prophesy that sends the sky above into chaos.The black sky cries raindrops for your mind.The wind that is picking up now surrounds your bleeding body.The water running to your mouth is the dreams you once held.All is illusions, see it and fight the depression that's tries to o
there's something fatal about coughing up verse.i got written up for writing poetry on the desksat school.i don't think they liked the language i usedwhen i wrote how my heart was beatinglike headboards against the walls of people fuckingat 3 am to the sounds of joy divisionwhenever you read me paintings at dawn.they were going to send me to the counselor,but i said my therapist probably wouldn't like that,so they just let me go.but this saturday, when i'm cleaning lives off of every desk in school,i'll just be thinking how much i'd rather be sitting on your roofand laughing when we argue about rimbaudand sighing as we start to die.
ElenaElena followed me homefrom work one nightand stayed for tea and eggs,and all that minimum wageand wars between the sheetscould bring.She said she was a goddess,daughter of a carpenterwith her long red, red hairand eyes as warm as hazel nutson Christmas morning.Her hands spoke brailleacross my backand made the silenceof Sunday into a prophecy.She left one Octoberjust like she said she wouldwhen the fireflieshad turned their wings to ash.And I found revelationin red, red wineand cheap red, red fabricthat came off in my handslike summer.
renovationsmy mind looks at my bodyand says, "i don't like whatyou've done with the place."
WineHead on a patisserie tablewith a wine-scented napkinthat I scrawled your name all overin the hopes it might necromanceor just romance youto this place, at this time,so we could be together againand although the guitarist knowsthat I'm broken beyond blueI keep reaching for the bottlein the hopes it might recreateor just replicateyou.
short history of the universe(what it's like is anne sexton quoting van gogh about sometimes having a terrible need for religion)Genesis:A lake slams into a bus and a city is unborn.Enter an ocean of fog and then desert after desert stacked above the hills.Then you get drunk as fuck near the tumbling skyline,and this god damned room burns like prayer in your chest.Then many missing scientists reappear in your brittle beach,and your satellites in relapse all bending,and what it's like is some kind of disaster, honestly;the arms and the aerosol and the linen and the light.And the rumble forwarding the sovereign wreck sayingsurvive yourself like you've survived me;saying the game-changing theory was that everything is always moving,always,and same for the carousal shadow bleeding through the mountain in your dream,same for your silence and the sudden red rain of witnesses.And then what unconquerable continents,what strange forecast occupied via gate via wind and wave-multitudes of sick yellow branch
to the ghosts with you, my deari came not to be kissed,or to have myself cradledin the curve of a throat,but to be broken,to be diminishedby your lack of affection& over indulgence of sexualization.but i,uneducated in your intent,found myself left entirely whole& incapable of the furyi had sought to sow between theridges of my aching ribs.
the polar opposite of translucencycradled in the echoof a cloudburst,the earth curls invisible fingersabout my achilles' tendon& pulls;she cries that i am notintended for the clouds,that my mind must not wanderbetween their susurrous concavesso i,furious with her insistence,her petulance,untether myself from the soft,diaphonous comfort of the heavens& sink,down into the weight of gravity.listless green blades welcome my soles,stimulating a tickle,an itch,a sneeze; i never have done wellwith nature,but oh,she is calling for me,soft-tongued and crisp in herown shadow,& i am sorely temptedbut no,no--i am not for the soil.lungs listless,she becomes my inhale;lightheaded& translucent,my alveoli shudderbeneath her force--i am not for the air, either.mellow-skinned,i stand beneath her onslaughtuntil she tires,her molten heart beating beneath my toes;unable to woo me with her facets,she pirouettes,cloaking me in one last attempt,a final shadow.my pores bloom& i r
muddy waterthe sun rises late now. or hardly ever. or belligerent carmine on the underbellies of plants.a shot of sleep to the head, a boxing glove punch.the metaphorical rooster crows with the awful clamour of its lonely breath. the thing is, i can substitute the body.the thing is, the slit is a fantastic shade of orange i saw god but he says you still need to get a fucking jobthe thing is, i am bathtub water and rotten leaves.and the taste of power on the morning wind, a wet newspaperwith the headlines of a presidential divorce.there is power in the young eagle hissing at passersby from its trashcan throne.i know one thing:
I'm too poor to feel so middle class.My teeth still ache from the dentist,but it doesn’t stop me from nibblingthe cheese danish I bought at Krogerthis morning, warmed by thirtyseconds in the microwave. My mugof hot chocolate is too big, and Idrink it all. The washer is on its lastcycle; the cat is purring at my feet.Netflix is background noiseto clacking keys, typing a transcriptof middle class morning that I’ll latercall a poem or a turning point,wondering when I became such an adult.
FlowingFlowing timecan't stop timeFlowing timepass too fastFlowing timecan't come backFlowing timecaught me hereFlowing timewon't stop this time.