My first thought, the scariest thing about it, initially, was the thought that after one wash or two, the sheets, the pillowcases, well, no longer would they smell of you, and that, was a sad thought, sad enough to make a man, go mad.
I need you in a way I don’t fully understand, you let me back in only to send me on my way again, but this time the pain is far more palatable, you see this time I can’t feel anything at all, and I so desperately wish that was me being over dramatic, but as … Continue reading Nice.
Why does it take, reaching the bottom of a bottle, or a line off the table, to feel anything, anything at all; why am I hellbent on destruction of everything good, I come across; what is my obsession with the fall; where did it go wrong, when did I veer off the beaten path; when … Continue reading Floor.
I am a virus, an infection, a disease. You say you hate me, you don’t know what hate means. I loathe myself, my core and being. An inclination towards destruction, to tear apart everything beautiful at the seams.
It makes no sense, to feel the way that you do, you had everything you wanted, but you kept seeking something new. You did it to yourself, the blame lies only with you, you threw it all away and for what, to find something new? Look at yourself, take in all that you’ve done, destroyed … Continue reading Blame.
i hate writing these shitty, garbage fucking poems. wish i never met you, i would carve a hole in my skull cut out my mind and go simple. but it's deeper than that it wouldn't help me forget. you are a plague on my existence, my skin crawls when you are mentioned. through no fault … Continue reading I don’t.
A Man is not supposed to cry, but I just cried until I lost my vision. A Man should be able to control his anger, but I hit the wall until I lost feeling in my fingers. A Man would stop drinking when he's had enough, but I just poured another and my glass is … Continue reading A Man.
I saw you and I, on a wrap around porch, in the summertime, 40 years down the line, rocking back and forth in our chairs, wrinkly hands intertwined, laughing about the same old, your olive skin shaded darker by the years, your hair not as long as it was, but your brown eyes, they stayed … Continue reading Same Old.
enough time has passed, where the pain is no longer a constant. it hits now, like a wave strikes the beachfront at high tide. and in that moment when it comes it envelopes everything. washing away all the good that currently exists. then it passes. i spend the days where your memory overtakes me, reminiscing … Continue reading Enough.
There seems to be a disconnect between my mind and my reality, Where I exist in two seperate places and both maintain a certain fragility, So easily am I tossed between two different plains of existence, Yet I continue onward with an irrational sense of confident insistence, Stuck in this pattern of self destruction and … Continue reading Insanity.