Heart over fist, head in hands
floodgates
Peaceful now, where once was
torrents
unsure
Was it the journey or the destination that mattered? matters?
Did I? Will I?
Freefall timebomb
Heart over fist
Broken breaking pieced back
together and delivered nonethewiser
Silence, where once
was.......
Thinking.
Past and future, forget the present. It's not important.
Past.
Love, hate, fear, and nothing. Pour into mixer. Blend. Let fester.
Bake until crispy. Serve cold.
Future.
Love. Let simmer until thick. Serve warm.
Fuck all of that. Words, meaningless and put into form for someone else's enjoyment like watching plastic surgery on television, cut and formed into something else. Artificial.
Fake.
Thinking.
Past and future, forget the present.
Past.
Half-formed promises broken.
Future.
Half-formed promises repeated.
Artificial?
Ak-47 sprayed accusations lingered heavy in the air,
Gunpowder tears and bayonet eyes....
rat-a-tat-tat
In the still air, I could almost hear the sun rise if I could gather the will to try hard enough.
rat-a-tat-tat
Bayonet eyes, surface-to-air sobbing on trajectory toward shellshocked ears.
Target lock, acquired.
rat-a-fucking-tat-tat
Bedroom demilitarized zone, blanket barricades....her side, my side.
Moonlight barbed wire fences between us.
..........
Crickets chirping with the sudden cease-fire.
Silence seems more unnerving than the original arguement.
Blanket silence, Agent Orange of the post-arguement bedroom war,
War-wear
Cut it apart. Again.
Trim the fat. Again.
Lean
Mean.
Whatever machine.
Using the excuse of "finding yourself" to fuck up more. You've found yourself, so you run away again.
Trim it down a bit more. Again.
Flesh and bone just isn't good enough. Alive isn`t good enough.
Life isn`t good enough. Fuck up. Again.
Then
smile and say
you're sorry
and
hope nobody remembers.
I remember.
I did it so many
times that I`m not just
flesh and bone. Just
bone. Hard, fractured
yet not
broken completely...not yet, at any rate.
You don`t have to hope nobody remembers. Nobody wants to remember. You certainly didn't.
She hides behind the scars
the beauty within visible for those who care to look
never convinced is she of her own worth
She hides behind the scars
not wanting to be hurt again
not wanting to take the second change she was given
She hides behind the scars
frail and delicate like a spider web at dawn
glistening with pearls of shimmering dew from the infant sun
She hides behind the scars
beautiful and free
but yet to realize it at all.
Sanitized for Your Protection by muppetpastor, literature
Literature
Sanitized for Your Protection
The TV is your friend.
Radio tells you what you like.
Imitate and water down.
The future is a carbon copy of a xeroxed photograph taken by someone`s little baby, isn`t he so damn cute?
Try to be just as original as everyone else around you.
Fit in.
Don`t call attention to yourself, you`ll only get hurt.
Avoid the pain at all costs.
Remember, TV is your friend.
TV never disappoints. It never causes you pain.
It`s a wonderful thing...it shares so much information, so much of itself and never asks for anything in return.
Radio is family.
Radio tells you who is cool, what the people you wish you were like listen to, and isn`t that a g
Love me
Hate me
Touch me
Fear me
Think of me
Run away from me
Need me
Despise me
Heal me
Kill me
Love
Me
Hate
Me
Love me
Hate me
Worship me
Victimize me
Take me
Break me
Cry for me
Smile for me
Tell me you
Love me
Tell me you
Hate me
Just let
me
know
You know I exist
seven ways from sunday
and it was only ever just another
d a y
blocks on paper
in a regiment of numeral soldiers
forging onward
through rain and sleet
and crap and mud
like a veteran postman who forgot his shotgun
and I forgot to leave a stamp
"You're being awfully quiet, today."
(say something meaningful)
obvious in its simplicity
a statement that tripped me up
(your silence kills me)
stuttered my thoughts back into a pattern
(mental electro-shock therapy)
and pulled me from that vague
mist of wandering ideals
(I fear your fractured tangents)
Half formed structures spilling
(if I break you, can I kiss it better?)
mental masturbation
over the edge of some cosmic tub
(breathe me in as I dissipate)
and all the best conversations
we ever had
were only spoken in my head
sun filtering across the view
casting halos in gold
angelic highlight
blurring lines
softening smiles
all she did was sit and stare
as words flashed before blinded eyes
fingertips caressing keys
wishing keys were flesh
and flesh were he
and still she smiled
that softened hint of expression
while waiting for clouds to cover the sun
A talk with a friend starting my brain to thinking. Am I truly capable of judging my own work?
I have about 5 years worth of things locked away. Maybe some should be posted.
Or maybe I'll just lurk again for a few years...
I still lurk. I am trying my hand at some photography. I am getting back into music.
Writing, well, we're taking it one step at a time.
I need more time to try to create something. Most of my time is spent working or recuperating.