Sometimes as I sit by a clouded window and scribble passing thoughts half finished on to cold pains trying to pin motives and reasoning on distant chaos
In the brief calm before the next storm I think of me the me I barely remember as I once almost was the hands I must have had to hold so strong to the shape of purpose the mind I must have had to mold so much meaningless into shape what would I give to have that clear sight again? the strength to carry heavy loads without breaking ...
You are moments gift wrapped In silence pauses like tongues running along razors you are bones cracked backs whipped strength subverted stallions running in circles until strength fades enough for saddles to be tied
You are the ghost of names unspoken you are hollows where words should never have been you are Bound to nooses tied to the hands of every clock you see
You are hope but the desperate kind that mortars over cracks left behind when faith rips itself free you are the bottom brick of a...
Could you please At least Spit first Before the thought of you Within me Unfurls itself Rising from the depths of my gut Slime and fetid stench Coming to rest at the back of my throat Settling just beneath the bile To keep me on my toes
You My noose In one way or another How do I subvert the purpose of the rope Around my neck When the reaching of my hands Loses its meaning And the lighthouse of my soul has begun to lean In storm winds it wasnt built to withstand But...
His eyes skitter across the room Like scuttling beetles Searching for a crack to seep in to Our questions turn to paupers bowls uplifted and hungry
And again the veil rises Sunshine and butterflies All thoughts of hunger forgotten What right do we have He asks And again we look to our almost empty hat Counting pennies Add them up, your better at math How many rights does that make?
We paid a bill, is that a smile? The dishes are done, does that unbend our backs? Or is it always this...
It slots in to the corner of my eye Edges ragged, water pooling It scratches it's way back in every jarring movement Whispering You know you missed me My way of seeing life Through a sceptic lens
You never wrote It says You tried And you tried But without my hand to guide your pen It hangs limp not even broken, just a pointless thing Like you without me It coos to me like a loving mother with a voice of honey Laced with cyanide
Yes god. You're right I am a leach and a free loader I dont deserve any of the things I want No place to sleep no food to eat no worthiness of love no right to speak no right to laugh I am eternally grateful for the ongoing gift of breathing and I'll lay at your feet like the grateful dog you've raised me to be
You've often asked what the point of having kids was, and i dont know either What point was there to having kids who had to hold each parents hand and walk them through the basics of life as little more than toddlers What point was there to...
A little man atop a dead horse sings a song for valor come fight with me he sings join me in my quest I'll adorn you with collars of freedom drown you all in riches
stop the greedy, feed the poor! come to me you feckless serfs I'll heal the hurts that haunt you one hand pumps his dick the other cups his lips over the hill there be dragons! with me lies your salvation! alas! for my hands are tied in the deeds of destiny is there some kindly soul whose charity could feed me?
It's been a while, quiet one since you've let your shadow creep into the corners of my eyes I smiled an Inch above the line A time or two too many I tilled the soil myself and now your seeds take root again in these lovingly laid furrows
I'd tell you if I could, i would I'd show you, quiet one that my home is full of sunshine there's no room left for you I'm afraid but still I must insist the soil here has changed much too light for how your tastes run