(no subject)
So I know what I want for my birthday. A hardcover not too small and not too big black journal (not spiral) with a lot of lines to fill with my stuff.
Heres a poem I found crumpled up...I wrote it a couple days after..yeah you know. I dont have a title for it.
Untitled for now.
It's clockwork.
The time, the hours, the days.
The way a month goes by.
Break a glass.
Clean it up.
Then, a cut
So dress the wound.
Ever want to let it bleed?
It's safety.
Every step, every phony smile.
The kind that always lie.
Crack a joke
Lend a hand.
Keep the conversation dry.
Or just stop here.
Ever want to speak without a word?
It's mad as hell.
Like a fever, like a broken dream.
The art of staying whole.
Shed tears.
Dry them up.
It still hurts.
So just be honest.
Ever want to just wipe it all away?
It's romance.
A kiss, a gentle word.
The radio plays that song.
Close your eyes.
Still see.
Still blind.
Fall and then get up.
Ever want an answer why?
Heres a poem I found crumpled up...I wrote it a couple days after..yeah you know. I dont have a title for it.
Untitled for now.
It's clockwork.
The time, the hours, the days.
The way a month goes by.
Break a glass.
Clean it up.
Then, a cut
So dress the wound.
Ever want to let it bleed?
It's safety.
Every step, every phony smile.
The kind that always lie.
Crack a joke
Lend a hand.
Keep the conversation dry.
Or just stop here.
Ever want to speak without a word?
It's mad as hell.
Like a fever, like a broken dream.
The art of staying whole.
Shed tears.
Dry them up.
It still hurts.
So just be honest.
Ever want to just wipe it all away?
It's romance.
A kiss, a gentle word.
The radio plays that song.
Close your eyes.
Still see.
Still blind.
Fall and then get up.
Ever want an answer why?