Posts

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Gasping for grasping

At the end of the line

Spinning circles

At the end of the rope

Hearing not listening

At the end of the illusion

Unadaptable and difficult

At the end of the mirage

Impenetrable and brick

At the end of the delusion

Sucked in a vicious cycle

At the end of the fabrications

Never ending spiral

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He traded a Jose Canseco

baseball card for a catchers mitt

He gave his best friend twenty bucks

to ask Robin Metzger out for him

He took his graduation money

to purchase a car that lasted 8 months

He took an ounce of weed

to college to bribe his teacher

He asked his cell mate

for a pack of cigarettes

He got out of prison four years later

and had no clue where he was

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I’m caught between syndromes and prescriptions. I’m slipping in the separation of loneliness and sadness. I have fallen in the hands of broken angels and laughing demons. I can feel the down pouring melancholy fill up the emptiness. I sulk in the fields of depression beside wishes and painted dreams. I’m sitting in the middle of insomnia and awakened tear drops. I watched the clown die on the inside. I stood on the outside of the circus and saw the crowd. I will always be on the outside looking in. I’m surrounded by beliefs and stuck in oppression. I’ve dug a grave in my creativity. I wear sensitivity on my sleeve. I can’t remove if I tried. I want a blanket of love that’s never been made. I seek a yearn that doesn’t exist. You will feel the craving when I’m gone. You will be on the inside finally looking in. The puzzle will be complete. I don’t belong on this earth. I want to lay beside Dylan Thomas and Allen Ginsberg. Read between the lines.

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Constantly disoriented

frozen whispers speak to me

A deep hunger

to be understood

An appetite

to be stirred by intimacy

No one cares

No one shows it

Efforts are fallen between

the cracks

No one hears me

No one listens

Distorted perception wakens

This is my canvas

Only a writer, a poet,

will gravitate to my words

To everyone else

I am not here

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No verses can disguise

the barbwire truth

Furious on the inside

Depression settles like dust

A intact plan merges

Ignoring my needs

Methodical and analytical

Reread the chorus

Every day was an opportunity

you threw away to show me

Nothing will prepare you

for what I’m about to do….

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Staring into the

desolate snow globe

watching my brittle

tears howl from the chair

Craving novacane for

my anorexic heart

Gravitating to the infection

that is soaking to

my sensitive past

Refusing to retrace

my footsteps of

Chestnut street

Tangled ghosts weave

through out my

strewed mind

Only to see a glimpse

of a debilitating disease

Concentrating on the

disappearing inner tyke

Becoming a nomad within

Placing my hands in my

ragged and faded jeans

trying to capture the light

of playing hopscotch

No matter how many times

I seek the clarity and purity

of my jagged youth

Chestnut Street is just a sign

on a ten foot pole

*Laurel has asked me to use this street name for the Challenge.

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The stench will never disappear. I sit here in agony replaying the years in my head. I stare into the pitch black and contemplating the decisions that I have made in my colorful life. I was a jester. I have discarded all the useful cards in the deck only leaving myself with only a few to hold in my tired hands. I steer away from the root. I run away from the tears that refuse to see the sun. I was the fool in believing in the word forever. You took me for granted. I took you for granted. You didn’t have the ability to own up in your own mistakes. You chose to be stagnant. I thought I was the infant in this relationship. I took my vows seriously. My heart is full of mush, layers of sensitivity, and the cream you find in the center of a donut. I wanted more. I craved depth. I took responsibility of my actions. I stumbled away shapeless seeking the truth. I am a lost soul. All I can see is a twinkling light. I will find my way out. If there is one thing I do well it’s being persistent. Nobody will tell me I can’t do something.

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Exchanging blows

Trouncing the integrity

Parading with clout

Testifying with a punch

Ruthless and cold

Clobbering with animosity

Losing perspective

Gaining self worth

Sitting on a Island

without a blanket of protection

Circling apathy

with loneliness on a death bed

Persecuting myself

Questioning my beliefs

Constantly defending my being

Slowly giving up to society’s views

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She has eyes like the sunrise

and deep scabs like diamonds

She has darkness in her clouds

and she could see the light

She has everlasting dreams

and tenderness in her veins

She has discolored nightmares

and the blood drips from her wounds

She has beauty in her mind

and fears up on a shelf

She has loyalty in a grip

and dedication on her sleeve

She has a glass world of love

and sensitivity woven in her skin

She has purity in her voice

and gentleness in her spirit

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I fear the oceans water

I dread the depth

I look away from the oceans water

I can’t see the bottom

I hide from the oceans water

I detest the slippery feel

I stand miles away from the oceans water

I hate what it represents

I despise the oceans water

I refuse to embrace it

I run from the oceans water

I know the harm and danger

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Beneath your gruesome

and lecherous center

slowly moves cockroaches

between your intestines

Cobwebs growing at a

miraculous rate between

your tarantula skull

The vein of the copperhead

wraps around your

slippery greedy heart

Nerves of glue are stuck

to your vindictive skin

Knowing you will burn

in Hell forevermore

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Behind dreary and restless clouds

She writes under a vivid pseudonym

Disguised and distinguished to the brim

Covering every inch of the tapestry

Dressed up in lavish innuendos

Only wearing a sheath of tingling dismay

Sewn and stitched to the eyelashes

Carefully placing a bookmark on page 98

A writers block glued to the forehead

Paragraphs trapped in a corridor

A preface floating in a cylinder

Guided by penetration and fantasy