
Loneliness
One Last Breath

A Mime’s Brainstorm

Stumbling into a fuzzy
and sanitized brainstorm
Watching the fury
leave stains where the mime
inside placed his hands
on the four by four box
Chatter dissolves
Blood clots stricken
Nonstop convulsions
A falling stigma is spread
like dust on the tricks
of my broken down mind
Fears wallow
Doubt hangs like tree branches
in a distraught hurricane
Analytics in bold
Emotions shredded
Wiping away the dirt from
my cynical and distant eyes
Leaving the mime inside
cry like a new born baby
Constantly misunderstood
A misguided circus fumbling
through the fog
A part of me is the feather
of a soaring bird
Never falling to the ground
without direction
Grasping the words of the prayer
Sent to God from a letter
Please save the mime
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Scolded on Cheap Wine Avenue

Chopped up dialogue
Interpretations of saturation
Absorbed by lost brain waves
Unfolding by a misunderstanding
Swallowing mashed up berries
Filling heartache with sand
Surrounding it with ten pound cement
Reminiscing the foolishness
Blaming the scavengers
Walking down Cheap Wine Avenue
like a stray dog in an empty storm
Plagued with expectations
Relentlessly undressing the wounds
Baring the char broiled soul
Washing the spots of hands
Praying to turn to the left
to see the state of peace lane
Defeated by Myself

I’m disappointed in myself as usual
I’m disappointed to reach for something I can not feel
I’m disappointed with my voice of truth
I’m disappointed in my ignorant silence
I’m disappointed with my points of view
I’m disappointed with my deceptive mind
I’m disappointed in the fool I can’t see
I’m disappointed that I couldn’t feel the needles puncture my skin
A Sigh’s Autograph

I use to languish in the polygon of my weeping mind
I thirst for the fragments of my anguish to mold my center
I use to sulk inside myself and drink the wine of selfishness
I sunk my teeth into the dejection
I use to dwell in the camouflage and sink in my words
I swam in the black river under the oppression
I use to neglect faith and drown in the empty tear ducts
I fell into the depths of silence
I use to grieve in the awaken sadness and never sleep
I felt the last breath deceive me
I use to shed my dead skin in the morning to erase the gloomy nights
I carried a chain of misery
I use to gasp at the hollowness and gazed at the autograph
I refused to stare at the nemesis
I saw the signature and found it revolting
A transformation within shouted
Very Little

Very little happiness
Pouring out in ink
Very little optimism
Flowing through my veins
Very little words
I will keep everything
to myself as usual
Nobody Told You
Fallen Between the Cracks
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
Lost Goodbye

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….
Loneliness on a Death Bed

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
Dark Wild
Beneath the clutter
and the discolored anxiety
the war between us continues
Engulfed by the
fractured promises
Gobbled up by the
untamed distance
Dwelling in the dusk
crawling through the
dark wild
Regurgitated phrases
of shades of love
Acknowledging the
hardened suffering
Stomaching the
patronizing goodbyes
Inhaling your desolate
and sinister perfume
Sucking and gulping
your mocking remarks
Withstanding your
arrogance and malicious core
Underneath the deceased
your stigma withers
Middle School Rhymes
I’m so fucking mad
About the day I had
She wasn’t glad
That I kissed Chad
I’m so freaking upset
About what I didn’t get
She was part of the bet
By Monday she will forget
I’m so undesirably distraught
About the day I lost
She was happy I got caught
My feelings can’t be bought
I’m so damn pissed
About the day I missed
She was in the A list
By the weekend I cut my wrist
The Bottomless Crutch

Pouring down overused mentalities
Change fumbling around
Pulling four quarters to insert
in the old fashioned jukebox
Numbers exchanged between
the mentalist and the statue
Between the shot glass
and the pint of a Irish stout
Scattered observations are slurred
Tip toeing through the cigar vapors
and the barking stilettos
Polluted with aggravation’s
and lipstick smudges on the glass
Empty barstools are playing violins
Loneliness waits for no one
Be careful where you drown
your heartache and sorrows
Look up at the glaring neon sign
The Bottomless crutch
Accepting Loneliness

You call
yourself a friend
But you are not
One by one
Evidence is clear
Meaningless word
Slowly my contacts
are erased from
my mind that use
that word
Don’t worry
My friends are the
words that are here
before my
awakened eyes
I know where I
get the attention
that I crave
It’s from people
who don’t even know me
that see me in
a different light
I “connect” with those
that write from the soul
and the heart.
I can accept the loneliness.
Cabrillo Avenue (Braeden’s Writing Challenge #2)

I fell in love
with a broken soul
I fell in love
with her sunrise and sunset
I fell in love
with her wild animation
I fell in love
with her wick and poison
I fell in love
with her sharp blade
I fell in love
with her sensuous magic
I fell in love
with her burnt threshold
I fell in love
with her over the top style
I fell in love
with her distorted image
I fell in love
with her scrapes and bruises
I fell in love
with her brightness and mind
I fell in love
with her alluring voice
But her words destroyed me
and left me in emptiness
on Cabrillo Avenue
The Quiet Man

The quiet man is a cerebral hunter. The quiet man gravitates to the intellect. He is absorbed into observing and memorizing behavior. The quiet man is a visionary. The quiet man is complex and fascinated with the dynamics of relationships. The quiet man values quality not quantity. The quiet man sees the world through others. The quiet man seeks purity. The quiet man seeks beauty in all; perhaps he sits silently in the distance. The quiet man seeks simplicity in the complex. The quiet man is methodical and artistic. The quiet man is an optimist and embraces the warmth of humans. The quiet man is not a perfectionist. The quiet man admits when he is wrong and does not judge. The quiet man believes in the phrase “I can”. The quiet man sees the value of stages: growth and the truth. The quiet man reaches for spirituality. The quiet man has high standards and is goal oriented. He believes in equality. He is captivated by harmony and the melody of humans. The quiet man is viewed as an anti-socialist by others, a volcano ready to erupt. The quiet man defies social labels. The quiet man is blind by color, but can clearly see ignorance. The quiet man does not have the answers for everything, but only has perception. The quiet man does not like drama or self-pity. The quiet man is ambitious. The quiet man is shaken by intimacy. The quiet man is disturbed by his emotions. Perhaps the quiet man is tired of how he is viewed and labeled. The quiet man is not quiet. Perhaps no one listens to the quiet man, and how could they? The quiet man’s tongue is burning. The quiet man’s perception of himself is mediocrity. When the quiet man speaks, heads turn. People ignore the quiet man. Nobody cares what the quiet man has to say. He knows how he is viewed and would like the change that perception. As much as he tries to change, the label sticks. The quiet man is invisible. What is the quiet man to do? The quiet man is speechless. The quiet man is patient. The quiet man does not want to be the center of attention, but just to be noticed for something else than being quiet. The quiet man is misunderstood. The quiet man is not superficial. Perhaps others are wearing a mask. Perhaps the quiet man is afraid of what others will say when he speaks. Perhaps the quiet man just wants to be himself and be accepted for who he is, not a label. Perhaps we are all labeled in society from the minute we are born; from each stage of life that we enter. Someone gave you a label and it stuck. The reality is that every one of us is different. We are who we are and can’t change that. We like what we like and dislike what we dislike. The minute we speak of it, we are judged not for who we are, but interests. People bond due to interest in general, not for how we approach, live, and manage our lives. Perhaps the quiet man just wants to be accepted for who he is…doesn’t anyone care what the quiet man’s perception is? Maybe if we dug beyond the surface of people, everyone is beautiful in some small way. We all have quirks hang-ups, baggage, skeletons in the closets, and that really shouldn’t matter. Does that define who we are? No.
Escape to Silence
I can’t tell
If I’m lost
or if I’m just not found
I can’t tell
If I’m confused
or if I’m in a fog
I can’t tell
If I’m the enigma
or if I’m missing pieces
I can’t tell
If I’m scared of myself
or just want to be hidden
I can’t tell
If I’m in a movie
or my reality is dramatic
I can’t tell
if I’m an introvert
or I just enjoy being alone
I can’t tell
if I want to live
or if I’m content being alive
Lost Identity
I’m a blurry train wreck
I’m the bottom of a pit
I’m the black ice in the winter
I’m the darkest rain cloud
I’m the sting from the bee
I’m a fading car crash
I’m the dust on the ground
I’m the tears in my lonely eyes
I’m a distant social disease
I’m the monster under my bed
I’m the skeleton in my closet
I’m the spider creating my own web
I’m the tarantula in the desert
I’m the demon in my soul
Abandoned in the Dusk

Clarity settles around my ankles
Shackles tightly circling my wrists
A opaque warrant for the end
In arial font harshly awakens
crawling dismembered spiders
around my distant coffin
No eulogy or words will be spoken
Just an empty room of formalities
Guests sitting out of obligation
As time passes as I’m alive
Leave me in the closet with
the laughing faded skeleton
Playing chess with my demons
No tears for the desolate child within
Walk away from my numb ghost
Shaking hands with apathy
Disheartened by those who make
false claims and promises
Leave me abandoned in the dusk
****
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