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
Writing, Ideas, & Stories
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
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
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.
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 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
i see it in your eyes
a hunger for more
every piece has your name on it
if you can see it
you’ll take it
a bloodlust for happiness;
but when your head rest on my chest
the breathe slows to a mild sigh
i see the kid again-
chasing a dream on a t.v screen
trying on string like a queen on the screen
it’s your favorite scene
we watch it on repeat it’s our routine
in the mirror it’s a queen at thirteen.
touch of hatred;
carried a long way
held every thought like a parent
grew up playing catch with his brothers and sisters
you could never tell;
trained to never forget
triumph will never relieve
one day will walk in the light my brother
your journey will bring you back
i need you
like the flower needs the sun
when it’s all said and done
as i wilt away
in trenches of rain
my last thoughts will be of you
days spent in shine
my final quest;
building a puzzle
without all the pieces
test my patience
buidling blocks surround my knuckles
science project and your the thesis
a little love and all my dedication;
that’s the kind of love
i’ve been dreaming of-
one bred of dreams
probably why the puzzle is never finished
different pieces every night
never waking up so by all means
maybe not forever just give me another minute
before stripped by daily light
there is no place
for lazy bonds or magic wands
in our wonderland of music
strings and kings playing for titles and bibles
ceremony of rings
loving all of your vitals
down to the very bones
our love made from thrones
sticks could never break our stones