Singing All That Beats This Broken––––Reaching out for oblivionWhispering of empty daysRain that appeals to no thunderLaughing in silence as endlessLaughing in forms left forgotten Praying for surcease of all painHolding minutes dripping through dead handsLoving thoughts kept in solitudeKnowing only what is not, for my senses dimmedSinging songs time…
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Why is it thatI am taking this out on myself? I didn’t askOr want to know what happened. It wasn’t my fault. I know that, but he keeps saying that it was. Why do I hurtSo much Over things out of my control? Almost like, I blame myself. I wanted…
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Tomorrow is the day I get cleansun gets high, and the sun setsand by noon, I always forgetyesterday’s promisesare today’s mistakesdrunkards like I often makeso tomorrow is the day I get cleanpunch into work, and leave as soon as I canoff to my fix, was always the planhours after; stumble…
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Caught my collapse on the specks of a paintbrush, Lemon-lime splatterings, paddlings over the retention pond In my lungs, an endless wake leading to another in a Christmas-lit bar. Never was the creative type, but I made moles out of mountain work, A red sea respite and moonshine lullaby out…
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What if you had to ask yourself if something was real, during every moment of every day? Well, that is just my reality now. Or is it my dream?