Submissions by knifesalesmen
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SELF POEM
Published
8th Apr 2013 1:58pm
8th Apr 2013 1:58pm
The Three Piece Suit From Timbuktu.
You don't really get it, young one.
You waste tears on fake regrets, hopes of the nearly dead.
Empty promises fill themselves with anything they can find.
Misery loves company, but I am a complete fucking goddamn mess.
I never wanted to walk this kind of life.
I hope to God I fall asleep behind every wheel I get my hands on.
At least I would know I'd take someone with me to the dark deep.
No one deserves this life they see,
It's time to drag them down.
You thought you knew me pretty damn well.
I hope you learn a thing or two about the person I pretend...
You waste tears on fake regrets, hopes of the nearly dead.
Empty promises fill themselves with anything they can find.
Misery loves company, but I am a complete fucking goddamn mess.
I never wanted to walk this kind of life.
I hope to God I fall asleep behind every wheel I get my hands on.
At least I would know I'd take someone with me to the dark deep.
No one deserves this life they see,
It's time to drag them down.
You thought you knew me pretty damn well.
I hope you learn a thing or two about the person I pretend...
626 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
8th Apr 2013 1:46pm
8th Apr 2013 1:46pm
Revolving Doors are Always Right.
Pay no mind to the skeleton at the door.
He means you no harm.
He's here for me.
Walk along the patterns of the flames dancing at your feet.
With your own self loathing capabilities circling your mind.
I found a conscience on my death bed.
Crackling glass that resembles fiberglass.
And hospital breath can't save you, not twice in a row.
Oh, God no.
Pay no mind to the casket leaning towards my porch.
It's reserved, as well as the hearse.
It's my ride, to catch up to the beast.
I've had my way for far too long.
He means you no harm.
He's here for me.
Walk along the patterns of the flames dancing at your feet.
With your own self loathing capabilities circling your mind.
I found a conscience on my death bed.
Crackling glass that resembles fiberglass.
And hospital breath can't save you, not twice in a row.
Oh, God no.
Pay no mind to the casket leaning towards my porch.
It's reserved, as well as the hearse.
It's my ride, to catch up to the beast.
I've had my way for far too long.
519 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
7th Apr 2013 7:57pm
7th Apr 2013 7:57pm
Cleanse the Non-Believer.
Swallowing a city of pills,
for yesterday's pain.
My eyes gleam, white blank holes,
needless goddamn things.
Not sure how or why I had strength back in the day
Now I drink just to know I can puke,
which means I am as real
as I am going to be.
But I believe I'm not okay.
There's black clots in the water up here.
It's safe to say I sip water from dirty hands.
The blackouts are back, claiming me for their prize.
I don't think I want to see the sun any longer.
Mirrors add insult to injury.
I am so sick of this place.
I am so sick of...
for yesterday's pain.
My eyes gleam, white blank holes,
needless goddamn things.
Not sure how or why I had strength back in the day
Now I drink just to know I can puke,
which means I am as real
as I am going to be.
But I believe I'm not okay.
There's black clots in the water up here.
It's safe to say I sip water from dirty hands.
The blackouts are back, claiming me for their prize.
I don't think I want to see the sun any longer.
Mirrors add insult to injury.
I am so sick of this place.
I am so sick of...
550 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th Apr 2013 10:35pm
6th Apr 2013 10:35pm
A Sea Of Cigarettes.
Beg for life, plead in rambling apologies.
This burden plagues the entire town I live in.
We came with crows nailed to our hats.
We walked on bugs to make ourselves feel strong.
All day long.
Soon enough this wave of emotion will blanket our minds.
Blind our eyes, make us realize that we have been living in the past.
Falling off my father's roof, I couldn't handle the balance.
My father couldn't keep up,
now he is just a miserable essence bent on raising a few more broken goddamn kids.
If only my spine was even a little more alined.
Now I walk on...
This burden plagues the entire town I live in.
We came with crows nailed to our hats.
We walked on bugs to make ourselves feel strong.
All day long.
Soon enough this wave of emotion will blanket our minds.
Blind our eyes, make us realize that we have been living in the past.
Falling off my father's roof, I couldn't handle the balance.
My father couldn't keep up,
now he is just a miserable essence bent on raising a few more broken goddamn kids.
If only my spine was even a little more alined.
Now I walk on...
697 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th Apr 2013 7:45pm
6th Apr 2013 7:45pm
Wolf Bane.
Less than a pure pitch black,
My head's fixated on words
that never mattered anyhow.
I am nothing more than a stupid kid,
And my mind's transfixed on what's been killing me.
Silver rusts and collar bones crack,
and the days seem surely numbered.
Into the depths, I've thrown myself in a hole.
And today seems sure to kill me.
Festering sores caught from traveling whores,
We all have our vices, but mine aren't too pleasant.
My head's fixated on words
that never mattered anyhow.
I am nothing more than a stupid kid,
And my mind's transfixed on what's been killing me.
Silver rusts and collar bones crack,
and the days seem surely numbered.
Into the depths, I've thrown myself in a hole.
And today seems sure to kill me.
Festering sores caught from traveling whores,
We all have our vices, but mine aren't too pleasant.
758 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th Apr 2013 00:09am
6th Apr 2013 00:09am
Empty Mouths Will Fill Themselves With Almost Anything.
643 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th Apr 2013 00:01am
6th Apr 2013 00:01am
While Inhabiting a Glass House.
My heart once belonged to a grand ocean.
The waves brushed across my chambers,
adding a mother’s touch to my freshly dried wounds.
But these were dreams I’ve forgotten since long ago.
Dreams which must have been so meaningful to me.
Shaken, not stirred, my friend.
Fire can’t warm me up at this point, as I am already dead.
The winter’s getting a little colder every single year.
I am afraid I won’t be sticking around to see the next one.
I’ve heard about your crisis.
You’re no longer...
The waves brushed across my chambers,
adding a mother’s touch to my freshly dried wounds.
But these were dreams I’ve forgotten since long ago.
Dreams which must have been so meaningful to me.
Shaken, not stirred, my friend.
Fire can’t warm me up at this point, as I am already dead.
The winter’s getting a little colder every single year.
I am afraid I won’t be sticking around to see the next one.
I’ve heard about your crisis.
You’re no longer...
614 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by knifesalesmen
