set fire to the original;
on the top of a pedestal
down into the roots ashes run wild
anger in the streets,
before the new;
the new way
a new pedestal
and a new match
Writing, Ideas, & Stories
set fire to the original;
on the top of a pedestal
down into the roots ashes run wild
anger in the streets,
before the new;
the new way
a new pedestal
and a new match
i’ll
find it in that third drawer from the left;
the miscellaneous drawer,
a ring (emerald) a pokemon card(hypno) candy rapper(snickers)
a day shoved away third from the left left to waste
a chase on a tuesday night wrinkled in time a page on a scrapbook for any wary traveler
to find:
brake light on third street dealing gambits and starting three like a warrior
marry her on the third street only put her to sleep not acting herself
to end up third to the left
found third to the left
to the left
i only can picture you
not in a frame or a scrapbook
a memory;
where we all live
in harmony dancing on the first floor
our favorite floor
the song- our song
the one that hasn’t been written
it’s our favorite,
and you’ll hold me
run your fingers through my hair;
(you know i love that shit)
you know i love you
since the moment i saw you
that song began
my- our favorite
on this first floor
of this safe place
what is that
in your golden hands
round fist bubble lips
tight as a rope around my throat
i see
the wish you made on the scarlet night
on sapphire roses
in loving arms
i’ll be your golden heart
should i?
wander around this empty room reading the same lines until they are burned into my brain
should i?
sing it in a different note feel it bottle in my throat read it write it on a different note
should i?
read about it on the front page kick it into another gauge feed it all into my road rage
should i?
show up at your door let you know this is meant for more i’ll never leave this is what i stand for
should i?
your sales pitch
a curve ball off plate
swing every time;
it’s the eyes across the green
meet mine,
disarmed and the bat falls across my knees
i believe you,
ready up
a curve ball off plate,
your eyes are honest
your hands are not
i believe you only get one
one real shot
at changing the way the world spins;
so will wait
finger on the trigger
eyes pierced into a lens
sweat falling off my brow
ancy as fuck
watching the fire;
knowing there is only one in the chamber-
it won’t come back i’m not ms. jolie
so i have to make this count-
this world wasn’t meant to spin
counter clockwise
it wasn’t the beautiful eyes
your beautiful smile
what you love, intrest
the way your cheeks shine when you laugh,
i mean really laugh
the way your voice perks up when you talk about something you love
when you talk about your future
how you want to impact this world
the way you touch me
the way you walk
the way you talk
the way you love me
it’s how you saw me;
the way your beautiful mind puts me together like a puzzle
every inch, was not a promise
gloves without the ring
night without the moon
yet, we are howling.
wanderer without a road
ready for adventure.
and you gave me the map
taught me to read the legend
handed the pen to script the legend.
the spine in my back
the knuckles of my fist
the blood i spill
you see it in the eyes:
the home page of the face
arrows being released over the wall
wallowing around:
the wall never helped anyone,
and now
you took an arrow to the knee