Someday I'll pull myself together
get to know myself
Learn to walk alone
without fair weather...
After a while, I'll know when...
The watch is on the dresser
the sun is down
but I keep perfect time always
so feel free to ask again.
That day may be today
procrastination may fail
Life holds on for no one
yet we all feel we write all parts of the tale...
We met at dusk one nameless day,
defined by endless chatter far into the night
hiding from dawn together,
fearful of all sorts of light.
Conniving and fair
Naive yet jaded
We made quite a pair
with energy never-fading
tears line a long road
Those we recall the taste of
leave etchings in the mold...
Tendrils thin but unbroken
tugged us together
time and time again
until we were meant to mend
But gone were the pair,
hiding under blankets dreaming
Only cold adults remain,
made from dying visions,
souls slowly bleeding.
The facade matters, as did the play
but the nights are dark and lonely now
too cruel for one
There's always a time to write. A thing that you feel. A point to the pen. Always. No matter how small, trivial, personal, dirty or inane. But...that is...the only "always" in life. This writing, this statement...is dedicated to how that "always" is a simple and lonely thing indeed.
When I first started writing it was when I was in college, in a computer lab between classes. Computers have come into their heydey but aren't dispersed in so close proximity that everyone has one. So many of us come to the computer lab for internet access and we all need it for printing power. I remember those days, coming to the lab and doing homework
It had been years since he had set pen to paper. Years since he had truly tried to express himself. At this point the pen felt more like the chef's knife; a thing he once knew and loved but...never made anything of.
It felt wrong.
The notebook was college-ruled, five subjects and the cover was blue, like his obviously stolen fountain pen. He could remember a preference for wide-ruled notebooks. The pages filled easier. They created a larger sense of progress. But he could also remember specifically picking this notebook, there was a reason for that. Whether he believed it appropriate or not was immaterial now. This was what he had and it wa
To the empty room,
thank you for holding onto my dust
without it my memory is little more than a myth
a secret between the two of us.
To the worn mic and lonely pen
thank you for waiting for my return
the speakers are scratchy and ink is dried out
the paper is yellowed and crinkled
but I don't need to shout
and any paper will showcase how I feel.
To the silence
Sorry I have to break you
take back one of your domains
life happens and never with your permission
for you signify that things only stay the same.
To the audience...
Thank you for listening
waiting for me to spit again
even though as soon as I finished
...you went right back to ch
Everyone has them
signatures to parts of their lives
things they depend upon
to earn their bread
or simply for recreation.
One doesn't go far on the path
not without them
in conjunction with your hands
these carve your fate.
Sometimes you don't pick them
they come to you
and follow till your dying day
you learn to love and respect them
Tools of the Trade
If I should fall in battle
be sure to put me down
don't wait for my last breath
just till I hit the ground.
I don't need my weapon anymore,
Be sure to take it with you.
I'm past help so make haste
or soon you will be, too.
Say goodbye to me now
hope you don't see me later
when you come back
I may not be here...
Because it's the end times
via zombie apocalypse
so as much as you loved me
beware my last kiss...
As the lust in my eyes
is not a good surprise;
my arms are not out to hug
since now I'm doomed to roam as undead
show me some real love;
don't let me rise again.
Hey, don't look at me that way
tears don't become you
even being sad as you may be.
There's no reason to cry
my pain has ended
there are no more battles for me to fight.
Know this and remember
even though I'm gone for now
part of me will always be right here.
I had a lot of fun and shed my share of tears
and I saw this coming
though I know that hurts to hear.
We can only dodge the end so long
and I know it hurts to see family leave
but what happened to me isn't wrong.
So, though it's hard to bear
Let me wave goodbye
and I'll see you later.
Take a turn down a dark alley inside your mind
make notes as you walk the less traveled path
as you see things you would deny in daylight
sadness and pain coated in just a bit of righteous wrath.
There are so many things we repress
times that we feel that we've failed
they stay hidden in us
but the result is an emotional mess
that tests us daily
not only to surmount and deal with it
but keeping others from seeing what it is.
On these little jaunts inside my mental world
I make myself a promise...
Never to fool myself
that hiding has to stop within my darkness
and to remember that the time does exist;
I'm allowed to cry.