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
Self
If I Could Run Away
If I could run away
I’d join a flying circus
Chat with the lions
Chant with the crowd
Joke with the clowns
Dance with the acrobats
Crawl with the trapeze artists
Hide with the magician
Wrestle with the roar of the tiger
Walk with the Bear
Fall in love with the sideshow
Sit between the caramel apples
and the cotton candy
If I could run away
It wouldn’t solve any of my problems
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Chestnut Street (Braeden’s Writing Challenge #2)
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.
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
Tormented Disorder
From the decorated tricks
to the lustful and tart candy
The crimson plasma spreads
like a tormented disorder
Calm like a grenade
Held by a tremulous clown
Waving his God smack hand
Tossing hundred dollar bills
to purchase genocidal vodka
Tick tock tick tock
Inside the gray rats nest
Morbid clocks humming the
melody of Enter Sandman
The crack of the numb skull
opens up and echos rape
Recognizing the basket case
Jolted and ramshackle
Hunger for disease thickens
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Rigamortis Breath
Tense and rigid
An arctic dialogue
Indifferent and standoffish
Words thrown like darts
Sticking like super glue
Toxic and demoralizing
Like talking to a brick wall
Hateful and unemotional
Unraveling the anger
Removing myself
Wasting energy on you
Walking away
from your rigamortis breath
Alligator Juice
Ribs shook
Teeth chattered
A swig of Alligator Juice
Testing intestinal fortitude
Crying Esophagus
Liquid to soothe the deserted soul
Reviving the hostile lungs
Defining the edges and nerves
Overtaken by the emptiness
As he fills his stomach
with acidic Alligator Juice
Inside Yourself
You want but don’t ask
You need but don’t say a word
You expect but bite your tongue
You bitch but you don’t speak
You sigh but you don’t voice
You assume but aren’t direct
You strut but don’t walk
You scream but don’t converse
You talk down to than at
You just don’t get it
You are inside yourself
Low Tolerance…
Low tolerance
for monumental errors
Imperative
to learn and evolve
Repetitive mistakes
cause blood to boil
and stirring silence
Humans are designed
to create blunders
If order and structure
are installed
Disarray
and inefficiencies
are minimal
Always striving
to improve
in all facades of life
Lack of Filter
I was born
without a filter
Words fly out
on paper or
from my mouth
My honesty
kills me
whether it’s
brutal or
delicate
Most fear
my honesty
and lack of filter
Inside Your Shell
Do something
different
Do something
unexpected
Do something
unexplainable
Do something
memorable
Crawl out of
your shell
Do something
unique
Do something
extraordinary
Do something
sexy
Do something
that I don’t tell you
Crawl out of
your shell
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.
Mayhem and Wreckage
Spastic clutter
Opening up a can of debris
Mixed up predicaments
A compilation of distress
Walking into turmoil
Gazing at a eyesore
A mayhem of selfishness
Mishmash of ideals
Seeking light in the wreckage
Tripping on hindrances
Overlooking headaches
Disoriented from the gospel
Ignoring the theorems
Forever searching the self
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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Lipstick Diary
Writing with a light shade of pink
Paragraphs of wit and charm
Hallucinations of bitter love
Caught up in unknown webs
Burying summer flings and
hypnotic one night stands
Self inflicted wounds never sewn
The bookmark never leaves
this etched and engraved page
It’s the single page that altered
her perception of love and self
Storm of Ink 