Barefeet and broken glass

poetry

I shared the tips of my fingers
Caressed them deep into your scars
So that even the parts which hurt the most
Can feel warmth

I shared the mane blooming from my mind
and wrapped it tightly around your fist
So that with every move I make
The tug will remind me
of you

I shared my aching neck
burdened with holding the weight of my thoughts
As daydreams of you taunt the sun
and fantasies drift with the moon

I shared the last of my innocence
Gave up the crown and glass slipper
Because I’d rather share a typewriter
And tiptoe barefoot around the broken glass of whiskey

I shared my heart; palpitations, pain, and all
And although cliches have never been my thing
It’s yours- naked and afraid.

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Beneath the sun

poetry

I was filled to the top, water overflowing off the edge
Then someone pulled the plug
Just to watch me tornado through the drain
with only a puddle lingering its last breath

I fell for what felt like eternity
through narrow somber pipes camouflaged in grime and filth
Absorbing bits and pieces along the way

I became polluted beyond filtration
water, not even a pig would drink
My thoughts became contaminated as I squeezed my sanity tight
Waiting for my end. Beckoning the end.

Alone, plummeting in perpetual solitude
As my delusions filled the gaps the sewage failed to grab hold of
Falling through loops and turn, some would claim as fun
But in the darkness, this rollercoaster was just a trunk ride to the unknown

Finally, a light shone, minuscule but bright
And the sludge I became, spilled beneath the sun
Falling into open water, where all those polluted created a home
And although I miss that pearl tub, I could never relive that ride

Moulded, wave after wave with others scarred from the shadowy pipes
But together we became an ocean
and all our filth became one
Waiting to comfort the next victim tumbling beneath the sun

The butterflies and the bees

poetry

People always say that love is bright
but it burned right through my hazel eyes
What kind of love is heavenly
when all I’ve sensed is the devil daring me

That clear blue ocean they reference religiously
has been overrun with predators who follow relentlessly
and the glass of summer wine will escalate
to empty bottles littering the landscape

Oh, and how beautiful to compare a red rose to your love
until I came to realize it is the same colour as fresh blood
and I wouldn’t count on that glow in your smile to stay
The black shadows beneath your eyes are not easy to escape

So tell me again, how your love is like a tree in full bloom
home to thousands of butterflies reflecting off the moon
Then come to me again, right before their extinction
and tell me how you miss those monarch’s distinction

Go on about the beauty in the movement of their wings
and how it gave a sense of promise compared to your past stings
Then I will remind you again how easy it is to believe
that butterflies dominate the population of bees

Vice

poetry

There it goes

that pesky drop of beer trickling down the edge of my chin
substituting the tears I should, or maybe would be crying
Because I’d rather tears fall from my lips
Those succulent drops I can’t help but overstretch my tongue to catch

Gripping the beer can like I grip my sanity-
very poorly

There it goes again
that half-lit cigarette suppressing the pulsing vein lining my neck
substituting natural practices for an easy release
Because I’d rather blow ‘O’s’ for a few minutes
Then welcome back my anxieties once the cherry’s out

Gripping the cigarette like I grip my self-control-
very poorly

There it goes again, just like every other morning
inserting caffeine through a syringe till the last bitter drop
Substituting fructose filled fruits with a dark delight
That probably ensures more headaches than vitality
But costs less in the end

Gripping the coffee like I grip my addictions-
very tightly

There it goes again, like any other night
when all tension releases from the taste of melatonin on my tongue
substituting a few prayers and natural exhaustion to avoid my taunting subconscious
because the sandman was declared a phony just like Mr. Claus
so let’s blame it on them, like when we were kids

Gripping the pillow like I grip my reality-
very poorly

Him

poetry, Uncategorized

His smiles so bright, a comfort I cannot describe
Like the fumes from gasoline, rearing me into a high
But ultimately, I know, he’ll do nothing but harm
And I’ll float down from cloud 9 right into his shadowy arms

His eyes so relaxing, a calmness like the sea
But the deeper I look into them, the harder it is to breathe
And as the waves push me further from the land I desire
I am slowly dragged downwards into his underwater empire

His hands filled with warmth, a touch that sends shockwaves through my veins
But you can never have lightning, without the undeniable rain
And as I look around for shelter, I’m surrounded by trees
The biggest bait to nature’s electric masterpiece

Once the storm has calmed, and I lye drenched and afraid
From nowhere, there he is, carrying an umbrella with my name
I smile because he came, even though it was too late
And I fall back into the cycle, because somehow, it is worth the rain.

It’s It’s It’s

poetry

It’s the hesitation in my skull
Pulsing like the crickets outside my window
As I lay wide awake counting the stucco on the ceiling
Eye’s opening, closing, rolling, tearing, squinting.
Repeating the words, relax, As the birds begin to chirp
But nothing works, so I lay awake until I lay asleep

It’s the disconnection in my eyes
As I stare at his picture in the back of my mind
Only a stomach full of whiskey can help revert my view
But just until the morning
Then there he is, hand in hand with my hangover

It’s the feel of my protruding ribs as I pull my shirt over my head
While the mirror breathes in every insecurity only to spit it right back in my face
So I spin around and around like a beat up model begging for satisfaction
But the only one in the crowd is me

It’s the deceiving smile I put on to avoid confrontation
Because i’ve heard every hallmark, bullshit quote in the book
But I’ll pretend to deal into their empty bluff
Until this card game is over and his picture appears again

It’s the sweat that forms beneath this mask i wear
Constantly afraid the decorations might fall off
Fall from this mask I’ve spent endless nights creating
But it’s better than leaving my skin bare

Trust is for people who believe the world is a good place

The questions of love

perspective

When i get asked about love, it’s never the right questions.

Does love have a good job with an above average income? An income you can eventually take half of? A car worth triple your life savings and a mansion with a 5 car garage? Does love wear tailored suits or jackets lined with fox corpses? Oh and love better come from a good family with an even better bank account! Does love pay for all of your meals and shower you with gifts?  Did you find your true love?

These are the questions I am surrounded by, because love to some is a synonym for stability, convenience and comfort.

They don’t ask me if love does everything in his power to make me feel beautiful.They don’t ask if love tries to make me happy even when circumstances are rough. They don’t want to know about the butterflies that fill my stomach or the smile he puts on my face. God forbid they ask if love is trustworthy and loyal. They don’t take into account how love drops his pride for forgiveness or travels 3 hours by bus just to see my face.

Love has many definitions but unfortunately some exclude genuine happiness as one.

Roulette

poetry

You kept telling me I had talent, waiting to burst out of my skin
You said I was royalty, and your honour to be king
You said my brain was filled with colour, seeping out of my ears
And every time I spoke, passion poured out like tears

But then you told me I was fruitless, my mind just a wastefill
You told me there were hundreds like me,  a blueprint you could build
You burned my paper crown and sucked the passion from my words
Then showered me in guilt as you continued your purge

Then you told me you were sorry, it was all in your head
You said your past haunts you and sleeps under your bed
You said you loved me, as flames circled us like prey
Then threatened to lose balance unless I chose to stay

The worst of it all, is because of my refusal,
You spun the roulette of emotions and anger filled your pupils
So I pulled up my anchor and gently sailed away
As you brewed storm’s to follow that still chase me till this day

9 Lives

poetry, Uncategorized

Curiosity killed the cat
But the cat had nine lives
After curiosity was fulfilled
Lust ran through his mind
He explored the neighbourhood
In search for pussy of his kind
Then promiscuity killed the cat
But the cat had eight more lives
So the cat learned from his mistakes
And left his cravings behind
After being scarred from desire
All he ever had was time
He chewed the fur around his nails
The cat knew he needed a vice
So he chose alcohol to kill the memories
but his organs paid the ultimate price
So Jack Daniel’s killed the cat
But the cat had seven more lives
So he went on an adventure
For himself, he wanted to find
But he was not prepared
And the people were not kind
So the cold took hold,
As he slept beneath the pines
Hypothermia killed the cat
But the cat had six lives left
The only option to being broke
Was resorting to theft
So his stomach became full
But his criminal record was next
Cops snatched him up
In his self-twined net
Prison killed the cat
But the cat had five lives left
Once he got out,
He had to make up for lost time
But employers turned him away
And his family was unkind
So all he had left
Were gangs with coloured cloths
So he bought himself a gun
And his first deal got him shot
So a pistol killed the cat
But the cat had four more lives
Scarred from brain to toe
He couldn’t keep dying inside
His head ran in circles
Searching for something he couldn’t find
A cycle unbroken unless he finally called it quits
So he stepped atop the 50-foot ledge
And stared down at his bliss
He squinted his eyes shut with a smile on his face
As he released all his tension, his balance lead the way
Until the final fall, the cat had good intentions
Bribed by societies need for ascension
Sanity was all the cat had kept
But none of it matters,

Because the cat has 0 lives left.

Ain’t it beautiful, how ugly life can be?

poetry

Ain’t it beautiful, how ugly life can be?
How a smile so radiant can hide a shadow so dark
Or a cigarette so deadly forms smoke like rising art
Withered rose pedals beginning to stray,
A truthful view of beauties habit never to stay
A book ripped and ruined from reading in every corner
But that decayed book tells more than one story
Ain’t it beautiful, how ugly life can be?
Sacrificing our health for memories we won’t remember
Laughing at the vulnerability of a man so tender
The quick rush of adrenaline, never worth the guilt
Or the degrading experiences ruining the persona you’ve built
The undying love for a man drowning in his own vanity
And the euphoria before hitting the brink of insanity
Ain’t it beautiful, how ugly life can be?