He thinks he’s so lucky. Walks around like he owns this place. Like he owns us. Your nothing but a fraud. Nothing but a fake. How long do you think your going to last? He thinks he owns us.
Tag: Writing
Chalk
Writing is beautiful. Here its temporary. The sudden sign of water sends the words rushing down. Words usually last a life time. These words are different, temporary. A few came to see and than they left.
Faith
The black panther lives in the rainforest.
This is the home of Faith.
The promising work of a florist.
Home forever even as a wraith.
Enchanting the world with sunny kisses.
Always with you like a reprise.
True nature’s cheery missus.
In spring time, love is carried on the breeze.
Her beauty undeniable by all.
All wanted to see what she could achieve.
Impossible to foresee thee befall.
This panther bows as she takes her leave.
All panthers ache and weep.
Rest now in your beauty sleep.
Name
All you really have is your name. Names can hold pride, family, a sense of heritage. It’s what you take with you to your grave. It’s what you pass down to your next line. The future will walk in it, like your shoes walking again.
Cake
Sweet and unforgettable. The icing makes your cheeks sting. Nothing compares to the sweetness touching your lips for the first time. Light and soft and dangerously addicting. Each taste is unique in comparison to the last. It will not survive the evening. It’s impossible to put down.
Dancing
I know the steps. I’ve learned the steps just to dance with you. Yet, you never show up to the dances. Is it because you don’t want to dance with me anymore? I get the dances have become not as important. Just want to dance sometimes with you. I’m going to practice just as I use to. One day you’ll want to dance again and I’ll be waiting.
Pit
The blackness encases Porter. Endless falling and falling. The blackness takes a break and light pours in and taints the cold black. Falling, passing the light, blinding to the bare eye. The light surrounds a scene of a child swinging on a playground. The sun shines over the park and its gone. The darkness returns and Porter continues to fall, searching for another light.
Joke
He laughs. The laugh echo’s through the warehouse scratching the crackling windows. Drums looking for forgiveness from the horror of his octaives. Babies across the river cry and scream in terror. The laugh covers up the pull of the trigger.
Ballons
It is finally happening. Before it was nothing, flat and unfulfilled. Slowly achieving and becoming the person that I want to be. Expanding with visions of the future and floating through dreams and desires. Floating, floating and floating into the atmosphere.
Waiting
Avoiding, dodging the news, Worried the outcome isn’t what you hope. The lobby is quiet enough so you could hear the hum of the television. Stomach is rolling in knots, tunneling through your organs. Rolling through your throat for a pit stop and exiting into a blue bin.
“He’ll see you now.”
Saint's Muse 