(no subject)
our neighboys pray by lamplight
(we share a kitchen)
when we arrived there was already a place for all our belongings
milk naturally placed at the bottom
spoons (though a different species) slept soundly along their kind
napkins grew out of a box marked ‘everybody’
while shelves, cupboards, and ice cube trays were pissed on
for territory by cecilia, didier and alyssa
the cumbersome guitar
whose known for saying too much
fell neatly beside the arrogantly keen
(but usually correct) thinking machine
in the closet -ready to stare back at you
is the electronic eye kept
with most our alibis
hung for their sins
some folded anonymous
they gossip
when they’re not running around town
making damned fools of us
secrets we all know about eachother close with the door
that gets stuck shut
to the bathroom
secretly laughing at the people exiting
thinking they may be stuck in
forever naked secrets
dream-stained pillows nestle lazily in the covers
as our insecurities lay underneath
with our imaginarylovers
but there is still space for growth
though the space may not grow
and the carpet won’t be new once it’s old
i was given a choice:
chances and opportunities
that i can choose to try
to live and eventually (though not hopefully) die
or
stories
i could never tell in the first person
a life, yes but more an imposter.
for even in death such a person may have never lived
*
*
*
the streetlamp hung
black bars on the wall
and across the face of us
lovers imprisoned by bed
from down a word uprose
tormentally frustrated and misguided
a revolutionary with only fight
broke a symbiotic cycle
god, how it wanted to be right
now i stared toward a wall which told only my thoughts
trying hard to be alone
as tension bleeds and clots
with the blast of a loud heretic
how it wanted rebellion from stone
it reeked of selfish alcohol
as helpless as a hospital
god, how i wanted to believe
but no speech, rant or rationale
could hide the boy beside me
wailing
the same cry angels screech
when they lose their religion
eyes tightshut
gasping for faith choking on dreams
so ceaseless
little disillusions leak out like power
i heard the boy’s heartbreak in two pieces
with steady whimper
on either side of the bed
“some people want to do things
others want to have done things”
i may have wanted the world
now i just wanted my love to stop
and be at peace
the lostangered desperate welps
-like a giant animal who only crushes the ones he loves
or the disfigured who lives only by a mirror-
grabbed my soul by hook
dragged it around the perfectly infinite
and infinitely perfect
categorized houseware
he’s the only face i want to wake to
i may have believed my tales for a lifetime
paid with a turned back.
offered, by the heretic, a world
(possibly not the world)
he took a long look
and stopped the boy from crying.
(we share a kitchen)
when we arrived there was already a place for all our belongings
milk naturally placed at the bottom
spoons (though a different species) slept soundly along their kind
napkins grew out of a box marked ‘everybody’
while shelves, cupboards, and ice cube trays were pissed on
for territory by cecilia, didier and alyssa
the cumbersome guitar
whose known for saying too much
fell neatly beside the arrogantly keen
(but usually correct) thinking machine
in the closet -ready to stare back at you
is the electronic eye kept
with most our alibis
hung for their sins
some folded anonymous
they gossip
when they’re not running around town
making damned fools of us
secrets we all know about eachother close with the door
that gets stuck shut
to the bathroom
secretly laughing at the people exiting
thinking they may be stuck in
forever naked secrets
dream-stained pillows nestle lazily in the covers
as our insecurities lay underneath
with our imaginarylovers
but there is still space for growth
though the space may not grow
and the carpet won’t be new once it’s old
i was given a choice:
chances and opportunities
that i can choose to try
to live and eventually (though not hopefully) die
or
stories
i could never tell in the first person
a life, yes but more an imposter.
for even in death such a person may have never lived
*
*
*
the streetlamp hung
black bars on the wall
and across the face of us
lovers imprisoned by bed
from down a word uprose
tormentally frustrated and misguided
a revolutionary with only fight
broke a symbiotic cycle
god, how it wanted to be right
now i stared toward a wall which told only my thoughts
trying hard to be alone
as tension bleeds and clots
with the blast of a loud heretic
how it wanted rebellion from stone
it reeked of selfish alcohol
as helpless as a hospital
god, how i wanted to believe
but no speech, rant or rationale
could hide the boy beside me
wailing
the same cry angels screech
when they lose their religion
eyes tightshut
gasping for faith choking on dreams
so ceaseless
little disillusions leak out like power
i heard the boy’s heartbreak in two pieces
with steady whimper
on either side of the bed
“some people want to do things
others want to have done things”
i may have wanted the world
now i just wanted my love to stop
and be at peace
the lostangered desperate welps
-like a giant animal who only crushes the ones he loves
or the disfigured who lives only by a mirror-
grabbed my soul by hook
dragged it around the perfectly infinite
and infinitely perfect
categorized houseware
he’s the only face i want to wake to
i may have believed my tales for a lifetime
paid with a turned back.
offered, by the heretic, a world
(possibly not the world)
he took a long look
and stopped the boy from crying.