we all
die
once
it’s the second time
we finally breathe
Category: Poetry
silence of the lambs
i don’t remember
what it was before
now;
chances are somethings were the same
just nothing that mattered.
i remember thinking
back then,
that i deserved what i got
if you didn’t work for it
like really work for it
than it wasn’t for you;
just not everyone gives equally
keeping you in the bottom of a well
to be mocked
to be trashed
to be reminded that they have you on a leash
and they control the slack.
i remember thinking
that those days
those days
were a peak.
they bury
you,
whether you’re out
sinking
or digging
that well isn’t for you
fivefivefive
change on the way
heart sized fitting room
closed until further notice.
return
just waiting
by an ajar window,
listening to the flute player two floors up,
for a sign.
now;
it’s been two weeks
and the flute player is gone
window is closed and i found my lost muse.
friendship level one oh two
keeping the battle going
from an open window
thinking about that flute player and their return.
rose trimmer
roots in a field of buds
horns with blood
weep for their sisters
until next spring
the next bounce
the next bloom
beyonce
i believe in you
chillin’ on Watkin’s street
fading way into next week
falling at the knees oh i’m weak
will be here till next week
after that
no guarantees
traveling climate
i think about that cloud
from time to time
wondering if it made it home safely
valedictorian
they only love me when i produce
putting a message together
stringing days together with a meaning
writing,
words don’t come when you call,
trapped inside a podium
waiting for a speech.
here is it goes;
i’m doing my best fuck off
after nineteen and before the world ends
we started as a gift
lying cheating killing
all before the night shift
wasn’t it so fulfilling
willing to go
millions to the bank
leave the millions on the street
to fend for a penny
so gather around for the show
they roll around in tax tanks
they never miss a beat
n that’s on twenty
50 on rotten tomatoes
all based
on the truth i believed to be
true
but it’s true just to me
only the truth to me
makes it everyone else’s
thought
they’ll tell it to the next
make it gossip
words flowin’ like a faucet
not my truth is your
food for thought
starving from my own process
now this truth has never been true at all
just a story i lived
just fiction you read
just a movie you said
two out of five
Saint's Muse 