detoxed and fresh
no longer spoiled
clean and wiser
happy and balanced
renewed, clued-in and excited.
ready
to
start
each
day
with
an
optimistic
point of view.
head up, walk straight, and show your smiling face.
no longer depressed, head in a mess, constant stress, evaporated morphine sister-less, no more neediness.
watch out now!
good times are ahead!
yes, indeed,
someday, i said.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
title 2
introverted boy wonder
makes me sit and think too much
makes me sit and drink too much
i make up stories inside my head
he reaches for the bottle
instead of the pen
he's an artist
just like me
you see,
and we've both got demons
that sit in the room
with us
every night
as soon as the boredom
starts to set in.
boy wonder
doesn't speak much
but translates everything to me
telepathically
and sometimes
i misunderstand
if i try to read it through his eyes.
i am convinced
there is a symphony inside his heart and
behind those blue eyes of pain
there is heat and wonder
for everything good
and everything bad we want to burn away
he's an introvert
and i talk too loud
when i enter rooms
extend my hand to strangers
the same hand thats ready to fight
because i am confrontational.
he's like a calm sea
while i am a hurricane
we sit in the room
with our demons
and i make up stories in my head
he reaches for the bottle
instead of the pen
we know we'll both give in
but its just a matter of when.
makes me sit and think too much
makes me sit and drink too much
i make up stories inside my head
he reaches for the bottle
instead of the pen
he's an artist
just like me
you see,
and we've both got demons
that sit in the room
with us
every night
as soon as the boredom
starts to set in.
boy wonder
doesn't speak much
but translates everything to me
telepathically
and sometimes
i misunderstand
if i try to read it through his eyes.
i am convinced
there is a symphony inside his heart and
behind those blue eyes of pain
there is heat and wonder
for everything good
and everything bad we want to burn away
he's an introvert
and i talk too loud
when i enter rooms
extend my hand to strangers
the same hand thats ready to fight
because i am confrontational.
he's like a calm sea
while i am a hurricane
we sit in the room
with our demons
and i make up stories in my head
he reaches for the bottle
instead of the pen
we know we'll both give in
but its just a matter of when.
Friday, April 08, 2011
you dont know me but,
send me a prayer
while I dance upon broken glass
wish me luck and cross your fingers
while I spit out lies
and attempt to hide my madness
Ask the saints to watch over me
while I lay down this destructive path
pray that the Gods forgive me
when I've stepped out of the light
when I'm tangled up beneath the covers
when I'm crawling backwards up the walls
when the fog is settling in
and the dogs are ready to tear me apart
send me a little prayer
and relieve me from this
so that I may be delivered
into the hands of mercy
and I could breathe again
in the wake of my new illusions
while I dance upon broken glass
wish me luck and cross your fingers
while I spit out lies
and attempt to hide my madness
Ask the saints to watch over me
while I lay down this destructive path
pray that the Gods forgive me
when I've stepped out of the light
when I'm tangled up beneath the covers
when I'm crawling backwards up the walls
when the fog is settling in
and the dogs are ready to tear me apart
send me a little prayer
and relieve me from this
so that I may be delivered
into the hands of mercy
and I could breathe again
in the wake of my new illusions
Dive.
you burn your bridges girl...
faster than
you change your underwear.
your mouth shoots poison
quicker than your brain
can process
the consequence.
look at you girl,
spreading your love
as if you were for sale
always entering rooms
like a hurricane
you remind me of:
a wilted dandelion
inevitably being pulled
by the wind
no care,
no mystery
just a bruised, paranoid heart
stitched onto
a used up sleeve
faster than
you change your underwear.
your mouth shoots poison
quicker than your brain
can process
the consequence.
look at you girl,
spreading your love
as if you were for sale
always entering rooms
like a hurricane
you remind me of:
a wilted dandelion
inevitably being pulled
by the wind
no care,
no mystery
just a bruised, paranoid heart
stitched onto
a used up sleeve
we had the blues while the city was on fire.
the scene, currently:
I am in a blue room with an orange painting that hangs to my left.
a dead, colorless rose, pinned to a wall with a frame around it.
last nights bottle of rum, sits lonely and forgotten
outside,
the city glows orange
from the fires
in the hills
its just
heat,
suffocation
and stillness
everywhere
but
we are inside this room
we are buried inside ourselves
we want to sleep
yet we are not awake
we're simply
just being
much like the orange painting hanging on the wall
much like the colorless rose, framed
much like the lonely and forgotten bottle of rum
we are all of these things
and then some.
I am in a blue room with an orange painting that hangs to my left.
a dead, colorless rose, pinned to a wall with a frame around it.
last nights bottle of rum, sits lonely and forgotten
outside,
the city glows orange
from the fires
in the hills
its just
heat,
suffocation
and stillness
everywhere
but
we are inside this room
we are buried inside ourselves
we want to sleep
yet we are not awake
we're simply
just being
much like the orange painting hanging on the wall
much like the colorless rose, framed
much like the lonely and forgotten bottle of rum
we are all of these things
and then some.
the suffering.
The suffering
Has outlasted its welcome
Like a friend from out of town
Crashing on your couch.
The suffering
Has us
crawling on our knees
scraping pennies
Eating peanut butter
For dinner
Out of jars
The suffering
Has us
Traumatized
From over drafted bank accounts
Cars running on empty
That familiar tightness
In the belly
In the heart
On your life
But don't fret
The suffering
Is your friend
It drives you
It propels you
It separates you
From the rich bitches
With soft asses
And bored hearts
Who know nothing
About
Getting down in the trenches
When the days are cloudy
And the nights are long
When you go to bed hungry
And your mind is about to break
Remember
The suffering
is the teacher
that demands discipline
from your heart
for whatever it is
you're putting on the line.
This suffering
Will tear you down
force you out of
that comfortable
and familiar rhythm
and someday
You will thank it
When you've finally reached
the place
and the person
you were meant to be.
Has outlasted its welcome
Like a friend from out of town
Crashing on your couch.
The suffering
Has us
crawling on our knees
scraping pennies
Eating peanut butter
For dinner
Out of jars
The suffering
Has us
Traumatized
From over drafted bank accounts
Cars running on empty
That familiar tightness
In the belly
In the heart
On your life
But don't fret
The suffering
Is your friend
It drives you
It propels you
It separates you
From the rich bitches
With soft asses
And bored hearts
Who know nothing
About
Getting down in the trenches
When the days are cloudy
And the nights are long
When you go to bed hungry
And your mind is about to break
Remember
The suffering
is the teacher
that demands discipline
from your heart
for whatever it is
you're putting on the line.
This suffering
Will tear you down
force you out of
that comfortable
and familiar rhythm
and someday
You will thank it
When you've finally reached
the place
and the person
you were meant to be.
Learn your lesson well.
Listen,
Just cause you bought me
fancy lingerie
from a high end store
doesn't make you
my boyfriend.
it just makes you
a sucker
who had high hopes
Just cause you bought me
fancy lingerie
from a high end store
doesn't make you
my boyfriend.
it just makes you
a sucker
who had high hopes
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