(no subject)
Some poems I wrote...
Untitled 1:
As a child, I played in daylight.
Scraped knees, shirtless, always happy.
Playing with my younger brother,
Spinning round and round and falling
Down on the knitted grass. Looking down
Into the tiny world of bugs,
of dirt and broken plastic men.
Looking up into clouded skies,
A world of white rabbits, racecars,
Horses, and cats all on parade.
A childhood of carpe diem.
Now, I dance beneath the moonlight.
Broken, sometimes shirtless, morose.
Drinking with my friends or alone,
Spinning round and round and falling
down on cold, wet grass. Looking down
Into the bottle for answers,
For a peace, for something stable.
Looking up onto moonlit clouds,
A world of grey phantoms, shadows,
Galloping nightmares and kytons.
A nightlife of carpe noctem.
Untitled 2:
On her wrist is bound a loose-fitted watch.
With hands closer to hers than mine.
Hands to guide. Not to touch.
That's a closeness I'll never have with you.
A daily, tight embrace.
A closeness like the one we have;
Close, but not too close.
A glass prison stops those hands from reaching.
Why envy such a thing?
We are one
And the same,
Save this alone...
I was born of flesh and bone
Not leather and tempered metal.
But this loose-fitted watch,
With a face all its own,
Is looked upon more than mine.
Untitled 3:
Hunting for pink elephants.
Gonna make myself some room.
Can't breathe.
Can't move.
Let's talk for just a minute.
Now, small talk's all too easy,
But it's not enough to kill
Now, breathe.
Good. Relax.
Just drop the bomb already...
I like you-
Yeah, I know
But we're friends-
Yes. I know.
So, now is-
Shoosh. Just stop.
But-
Shhh...
Her lipstick is red,
And she tastes like cigarettes.
Oh God...
What next?
My pink elephant is dead.
Untitled 1:
As a child, I played in daylight.
Scraped knees, shirtless, always happy.
Playing with my younger brother,
Spinning round and round and falling
Down on the knitted grass. Looking down
Into the tiny world of bugs,
of dirt and broken plastic men.
Looking up into clouded skies,
A world of white rabbits, racecars,
Horses, and cats all on parade.
A childhood of carpe diem.
Now, I dance beneath the moonlight.
Broken, sometimes shirtless, morose.
Drinking with my friends or alone,
Spinning round and round and falling
down on cold, wet grass. Looking down
Into the bottle for answers,
For a peace, for something stable.
Looking up onto moonlit clouds,
A world of grey phantoms, shadows,
Galloping nightmares and kytons.
A nightlife of carpe noctem.
Untitled 2:
On her wrist is bound a loose-fitted watch.
With hands closer to hers than mine.
Hands to guide. Not to touch.
That's a closeness I'll never have with you.
A daily, tight embrace.
A closeness like the one we have;
Close, but not too close.
A glass prison stops those hands from reaching.
Why envy such a thing?
We are one
And the same,
Save this alone...
I was born of flesh and bone
Not leather and tempered metal.
But this loose-fitted watch,
With a face all its own,
Is looked upon more than mine.
Untitled 3:
Hunting for pink elephants.
Gonna make myself some room.
Can't breathe.
Can't move.
Let's talk for just a minute.
Now, small talk's all too easy,
But it's not enough to kill
Now, breathe.
Good. Relax.
Just drop the bomb already...
I like you-
Yeah, I know
But we're friends-
Yes. I know.
So, now is-
Shoosh. Just stop.
But-
Shhh...
Her lipstick is red,
And she tastes like cigarettes.
Oh God...
What next?
My pink elephant is dead.