Rawr
"A boy"
theres a boy who dreams
of the reflections in the water
the sunlight casts mirror images
but somehow its not
the same
its a wonder that he doesn't dissapear
and if so, would you notice him?
cupping his pale hands in the shape of the earth
so nieve.
to think that it hasnt changed.
he crys heart shaped tears
hitting the floor
like bombs
He sweats blood and
gasps because he's
unable to remember
what he needs
to forget
He closes his eyes
glass eyes...
now watch as they hit the floor
one by one.
going into your veins
veins like rivers that he would
only want to drown in
such a vigin.
infected.
"Dear Child"
What lay in the oposite reality? Nothing more than one word in two sentances that smooth over the truth into some form of childsplay.
I see your words on paper as a death list for tomarrow, and i sigh as i close my eyes just trying to remember the fragments of your exhistance.
You are mad, And you say the words i spin have placed this curse apon you.
A curse? Not of that magnitude, persay. More of a riddle that you cannot seem to undo.
I see those hands shaking in your down jacket; let them out so they can feel the pains of writing a poem for the masses
To please, to please? I do not see the reasons for the appologies you sing from your wounds, as if you are sorry for your pitty. I am sorry for your pitty.
The best is not yet to come my love, for i can see the sun rising on the other side of the globe, while here it lays silent and cold here, as a toy would see under the bed, a light slightly peaking from the doorway.
And that is where i stand watching you sleep with your eyes as heavy as sheeps wool; The way your body caresses the sheets as your breath signals a dream.
A dream is what you may beg for in the end, beacuse the nightmares of living can only be met by your parallel.
A hand lay apon your cheek, yet it is not mine. It is ugly, ugly as an empty lake with a childs body at the bottom.
Somebody should teach them to really drown, i do think. I hold this truth to be self evident
That no matter how hard anyone trys that we are all in the end: equal.
Equal mammals with no say in how we die or when. The decaying is left up to the rain and time.
And the clouds that slum over citys and highways, polution clouds that kill your precious lungs, my child. my dear child.
"bird"
im a little lonely here
sometimes.
now.
but your mockingbird tounge
favors the beaty-berry
crush it to make your blood
so red - pure
Your feathers are so ruffled
can you fly with a broken wing?
ill raise you up
even though your face
brings me down
Stop giving me that
you wouldnt leave the nest
even if i pushed you out
peck away at my heartstrings - lovebird
ill pluck yours.
one by one
until you die endlessly
in a flight of
consistancy
"untitled-for now"
I can do nothing but
pick at my scabs
so anxious
to get to the fresh skin
underneath
Yes. Still horny