i don’t believe you
like i used to
words fall from heavy tongue
braiding my hair with twisted fingers
not like how you used to
memory of our night
carries me like a knight
off to the kingdom
sleeping
without a thought
of the fire outside
Tag: Connection
minutes
time
no no
the very second
i didn’t want to miss it
but it’s out of my control;
take what is given
accept that we are livin’
the ones that are driven
make the most of these hands
one at a time
if you ask me, i’m ready
for the one in the back
that never got their chance;
keep fighting,
the front is a mosh pit;
dirty, violent and savagery
your kind heart wasn’t meant for this world
waiting for your wings to grow
an angel watching us from above
hidden quiz; makeup. on.
sometimes, this is difficult
to beg for answers
everthing is truly a test
but this should have been open book
games being played
answers written on your hand
and i can’t even see the scantron;
laid it down
you, the one in the gown
pride of the hometown
strutting, wearin’ that crown
not ready for that showdown
but this is that countdown
wear it on my chest, i’m that proper noun
but i’m the one that looks like a fucking clown.
success magazine; mothra
i collect memories
store ’em in a binder
under my bed
deep under past the monster
blow the dust away
they start early
half eaten by moths or accidents
birthdays and birthdays
a success photo shoot
that fucking kid billy that i hated
(take that one out real quick)
flip to the back to these empty pages
no dust no moths no sad endings- yet
a place i come often
a sweet reminder that the previous pages
don’t tell the end
moths will get to them just like the beginning
will put it back, with out guardian monster
take our books, pens and camera to the park
and look for butterflies
the fixer; down wind
problem is
i always want to fix everything
things that don’t need fixing
instead of just caring
loving being more then a piece of tape
problem is
carrying weight that’s not my own
no one asked
carrying backpacks up mountains
nothing but a bottle and a tent
crashing down
broken arm
put tape on it
tick tock
bound by flames;
captain hook and i share a club
missing hands and a fear of crocodiles
Mr. Logan
it’s over.
the smiles of the veterans
stories of war
memories of their loved ones
all in a photo
i’ll remember you Mr. Logan,
it was just a place of business
like any other
your stories made it like any other
i am going to miss it,
wish i got the chance to tell you
that will be gone
to point you to a worthy place for your stories
an ear that would care;
i’m sure you’re having a drink with your son right now
reminiscing;
enjoy the day bud,
you’ve earned it
the wanderer
the wanderer has no reflection
a boulder tumbling down a road
left bloody by her wife
wonderous by her mistress
alone by her husband
the wanderer has no reflection
they; walk
to find
something
a no name feeling
a response to a question
on a dotted line
written in invisible ink
revealed by
well
the wanderer doesn’t know
if you know
and you see the wanderer
on the road you avoid most
let her know
she misses her wife
binary love; one dance
your silence was enough
your words are enough
and all i have are these
few lines before my power cord is clipped
few secrets in code
and all i want to do
is have a final dance;
a dress that whips necks
hips that never quit
all in on the cha cha
time to live and not watch on
a screen with tears
Saint's Muse 