we’re just everlasting ghosts, walking around with our limbs tore off, she’d give anything to make you smile. it’s looking like something forgotten, things split down the middle and someone should have warned you. coming up only to hold you down. it was really too late to wait for the call worth waiting for. and outside the dead leaves fell, only you knew me all wrong this time.
An honest portrayal of my ever changing thoughts. A hopeful romantic, living a life flawed by my imperfection. Positive vibes really change lives.
• Ask me anything
Transcendental State
Transcendental State
leaky tracks
how hard has it become? so, that the first thing on your mind after work is the can,
or the smoke that soon follows. The King if Beers brings you back up only to fall shorty after, the loss of something coherent and important; fractured by the .8 blown, and then it all stops, the drinking, the smoking, the sex, the fun.
like a train going 82 with 3.5 tons behind, the screeching unbearable , the amount of energy waisted, waste dead on broke down tracks ticking like a time bomb, leavening rusty thoughts, and ties will burn rung, by rung until all that remains are the iron parallels, a ghostly reminder of the path once taken.
the penny pinched funeral was shit. laying there in a plastic box holding an ancient pose, you’d lost some wieght.
she’s just a crack head always crying.
‘is anyone in the bathroom’
a classic casket case shallow breathing face up in a box.
she shouted loudly at the tiles in the ceiling.
busting broken teeth as she looks in the mirror
cracking her porcelain skin
as she choked on her last words.
there’s a million blank expressions, here’s the one
where I lose all my words.
stuck in a slow dance, she’s
just a tease.
the recoveree slipped back down to shaddy streets.
distance grew spouting
lust that’s not meant for you.
a quick drink and a slow dance.
our eyes shut tight but she’s
not you.
now I’m fast approaching death. The dead eyes they hated, hoping for truth,
so I polished them clean with lies.
on the porch I sat lighting another cigarette
taking sips of anything to make it right,
I was trying to hide from the fight deep within side.
We destroyed each other, revealing a bigger mess that we can’t fix.
I tried hard with arms raised in the air I was praising,
but even jesus knew I was faking.
All the good I had in me turned tepid, and I finally felt free.
God really likes being alone.
so the devil cut the chains.
the homeless handshake
I met a man;
the homeless type, who drew humming birds
and rambled coherencies.
He unwrapped my presence at my feet.
This man who swapped clothes bi-weekly wore a leather face
showed me my skin sincerely for the first time.
Framed by an uneven peppered beard
his teeth strained to be.
“it’s where the heart is at, besides its hard to believe without bleeding”
he cracked his ribs hoping to die
“you know yourself best when you sleep at night”
so I found a way out and closed my eyes.
leave it alone under the bridge,
leave it alone under the bridge, behind locked doors the wood floor sticks, just play it cool. I saw behind the mirror, falling so fast in her bedroom. a half held invitation sat beneath my curly hair, to a place no ones gone. stay bnt kneed at the bedside. do you pray with him too?
