LOL: ? where am I ?
LOL: drinks no longer lifts me; wingless bird
LOL: public health warning: fuck you; fuck
LOL; find alternatives
LOL: snow
LOL: gun
LOL: shards of broken glass
LOL: the bleeding no lie
LOL: bang bang blow
LOL: bang bang you
LOL: bang bang
LOL: no ; go
The story was a simple one,
fit to be read to a child,
but it ended with a cat running off
into the woods never to return again.The story made him sad so sad, he
didn’t want to hear it no more. He
told them so, in words and with
tears, time and time again, to no
avail.The scars still itch, deep down
inside, but scratching’s not possible
now. He’s given up hope on finding
the cat, but the bully is dead,
thank god.
I used to travel the world, sitting in my grandfather’s lap. He had an old Texaco map, and I an imaginary friend.
The world was very flat back then, his fingers cold, so stiff so hard. Turning pages, going off somewhere new, with Amelia by my side.
The travelling did eventually stop, old age and poor health got the better of him. I lost my way the day that he passed. Will she ever come back to finish her task? To guide the lost boy back on his path.
How far in time and space
between one warm embrace and
the next
How far in time and space
between a kiss
How long to wait
for the spark to ignite
To join the stream of
entanglement
The fact that I’m still breathing should not be taken as a sign that I am living, but rather as an indication that I might still be alive
the monsters under my bed are gone
no space left after I dumped the frame
the monsters in my closet remain
bordered up I think I am safe now
the monsters in my head are near
always present whispering
their truths linger
my sanity questioned
their truths burdening
my sanity hurting
their truths
my sanity
their…
my…
insanity
The poet cried in silence
ink stained collar bound
the last of the papyrus
withering away
no more rebel
no more guard
pacified by silence
muted; incessant; ergo;
by finite confines
restrained
On a good day I will tell how I became
On a good day I will appreciate you dream
On a good day I will send you hugs
On a good day I will laugh out loud
On a good day I will not hold back
On a good day I will not
write anything like this
so many words
written in delusion
illusions of that which
will never come to be
no matter how many times
I repeat them
in thought
in dream
in scream
in hurt
“Nothing is written in stone…”, I muttered
“Have you ever visited a graveyard?”, he countered, smugly
