Writing, Ideas, & Stories
fight about me
i’ll sit ring side
run play by play
get mine
while you lose yours,
didn’t wanna be the one
but i’m the one
an it stressin’ you out
want me to take you out
tell me i’m the one
an you hate it-
only stay one night
three nights later we’ve seen
every episode of full house
who’s dreamin’
delivery every night
don’t wanna leave this bed
an you hate it
it’s far away
maybe tomorrow
years from now
just know it’ll be okay
hands behind my back
these aren’t the apples
i was looking for
i remember
the strength leavin’ my tips
for four straight nights
four bars over four moons
this cell is my home
brought an apple every fourth hour
four steps in four steps out
just the white lines on the stone ground,
they were different four days ago
is this
granny smith
living for a challenge
set the difficulty early
left in a gutter
waiting for rain,
like waiting for a god to remember
what they left here
wallowing in the dry
crying for remembrance
at your temple of worship
not to be left here to die,
you’ll get back to me
probably not, but that’s what prayer is for
took a chance
missed
story of an archer
quiver at the no
ready for the now
aiming vow
taking a bow
hanging upside down frown
quiet afternoon
change the channel
i can’t stand your voice;
the lies stack higher than a mountain
words paved with cement
and sealed with a kiss;
i can’t stand your voice.
i crumble at each vowel
i won’t become
something different
to appease your insecurities,
i won’t say sorry
for being me
it took me
way to long
to know who i was
to be taken away
by anyone
the games you played
are no longer on the shelf
just an old joke
told by that weird uncle,
you see once a year
at the cookout
i find myself selfish
in the most uncommon time
looking for god
in the hottest time
picking up the phone
in the middle of the desert,
wrath is laughing
greed is smiling
and gluttony shovels what’s left
nothing much
just a nightmare with a side of depression
in a desert
she wishes from a washed brick balcony
stars too far to hear her
but her song still travels
paved with a milky trail of clouds
it might be all that’s left
she’ll never cease her song
until the day the stars reach their subtle ears
closer to her wolf proof balcony
she’ll be back the morrow
an the next
until the stars
are in her palms
Saint's Muse 