docile disguises
drifting in the clouds;
some days i’ll rest this pen,
like eyeballs on a pillow,
n’ let the words come
from writing on a wall
subconscious love
existing on an edge made of paper planes
flying(
Tag: Future
v1 passion v2
dream chasing;
not to be confused by having-
the purity of the air
is the difference between the chase,
the stamp of this art,
the corner carved on this medium
to last, to make a tiny smile – last.
the closer to the earth
the field is littered with bodies
looking for a scrap of metal
the same metal
ambition of bones
stealing a penny from lenny
never for the many
just to save a twenty
comfort nightmare
take a minute and relax
was it that serious
she spilled a drink on you;
flares burst like the fourth of July
she’ll never forget this night,
four seasons passed
n as she woke from her bed at the four seasons
from her comfort nightmare
faulty timing
shape up or she’ll be gone
listen up, if you were a man
you’d know what’s going on at home
“your” home- nothing but a coward
nothing is what roams these halls
calls to you in the night
reads to you in the dark-
it’s frosty in this bed
our bed
the one we share
just never at the same time
traffic
you let them all go
into a vast opening
into a world yet explored
blue as the river once was
garbage seeped into my lap through a tunnel built by you
grease still dripping from your neck
without a flag
a path
traffic here
is awful
paddle boat
worry rocked the boat
sent lifeless butterfly stroke
to the bottom of the creak;
sleep sleep sleep
little baby
rockaway
trot away
fuck away
little far away down the stream
lifeless cocoon
and an oar.
gooigi
everything is falling to the waste side
slipping through the cracks
the real me asleep at the wheel
the one you see
falling apart
at every puddle
final ballet
words don’t travel as they use to
blocked by mountains
scared of river beds
drowning in wastelands
bringing death, to her knees
singing her song
that sweet
last song
your song
this dream-
the one that calls me in the morning
eats with me at lunch
and crawls into my sheets every night-
i remember our first dance
to Maroon 5 in a gym
now we slow dance to Elton John
i miss my wife
but this life
swipes my throat like a pup’s belly.
treasure;
lucky charms
the boy eats porridge
every morning
never deviates or wanders
never wonders about lucky charms
what is lucky charms doing tonight
who are they with
do they think about me
do they like almond milk or 2%.
never about orange juice
never letting guard down for apples
or other straggle fruits
almond milk or 2%
just porridge,
that’s good enough
Saint's Muse 