Writing, Ideas, & Stories
chance is-
we get a second chance with another life
a god puts quarters into a game
and we reboot in a new body
new memories new family new lovers
in that life i never touch a pen
i carry a ball and a glove
a gun and knife
a purse and a baby-
maybe-
we live in the shadow of our god
the one pushing quarters to give us life
and we chase the same love they look for
and that’s why i always find myself in your arms
if i sold everything i have
i still wouldn’t deserve you-
it may not be true
but it is true to me
and i don’t deserve you-
but i’ll prove it;
the late nights let the past creep in
when the doors are locked and bolted shut
trespassing over my private property
and it’ll run a muck, yet,
everyday putting i will put in the work
from nine to five staying late working overtime
to prove that these demons don’t define me
and i will wonder:
i have brought myself from the darkest corner of hell,
i should have stayed and held that rope tighter
but i am here, fighting, so
does she deserve me-
and i see her working just as hard;
stomping her own demons
and i know we can survive anything
i can’t stay away if i wanted to
your hands melt my skin
leaves handprints behind like wet cement
i could never wash you away
like hunger i crave you
your lips against my skin
sends my nerves in to all hands on deck emergency
it is a power outage inside
body unlocks like an orange being peeled
and your love is the knife
i know i have been in your thoughts
i woke up and my legs were shaking
roaming corridors i once lived finding myself a tourist
a map with rooms crossed out and a new name written
on brown tape-
renting or buying
a night affair or a lifetime package
why was i brought to witness;
a chance to outbid
or walk down a memory lane with caution tape
boarding off every entrance,
the tape was my doing
but the exhibits were made to last
and i wonder
how many double a batteries
it would take
lost in a graveyard
found six feet under
it was never meant to end this way
or maybe it was
maybe i choose to ignore the signs on the road
the endless yelling of choosing poorly
but right now was meant for the hollow
a cross of a god that was never my god
a cross for the forsaken or the loved
holds the seal tight
i would challenge him but
he is a god so that seems dumb-
against his wishes i will rise;
turn my hands into shovels and rise
the bottom could never hold a spirit like mine
a heart with everything still to give
stories left to be told
work still to be done
and
the last season of game of thrones
still to be watched
a little lost now
following a kite
map shredded
two nights to get it
and i have never felt, whatever this is-
a chilling call
not a heroes call
an endless brawl through the nights free-for-all
and i have been losing
easier to count the small moments when i felt everything was whole
can do it with one hand
do not see the second being used
yet to push aside this feeling of being used
left beaten and bruised
to lay in the coldest of night
with nothing but a stringless kite
loving someone else is impossible
unless you love yourself first
we are worth more then one chance
i usually deploy a weak baseball rule
three strikes
but weak because i can never call anyone out
even when they deserve it-
bad shit comes in threes(bleed)
should have been a breeze(beast)
fucked around caught your disease(21)
you have been out for years
kept you around against my wishes
missed the days when it was simple
dimples and smiles got you in the door
war followed and never stopped-
chasing night and day
like a dog on the freeway
not after a bone
looking for something i found and not ready to give up
the time has not come
just a chase;
worth every drip of sweat
blisters and speed bump-
for when i catch you
time moves at a reverse pace
your hand pushes the clock backwards
and moves mine forward
towards her on the tip of her chin
lip breaches her timid skin
surprised i caught her
but the chase only made time more valuable
she said she missed the old me-
the one with the funny jokes
and the unbreakable smile
never hanging from rope just above the tile
the version of you that never updated
who told stories of full hearts
standing- never wavered
now tells stories of death through fine arts
sit high like a king with his chalice
and below his subjects full of malice
switched from meat to salads
bought a case of m light and you were at wine palace
remember when we dropped acid-
where – did – you – go
( who walks in the shadows of your once peculiar self, the tepid demons haunt and talked their way into your skin to walk a path of coal never meant for your loving feet- they trashed you and colored your eyes green so you can profit and all i- we want is to banish and summon the cozy knight once more )
Saint's Muse 