Blind in NYC
Flashy lights in dark nights
Fancy shoes and homeless souls
Pretty races among lost faces
In the sea desperate for love
Running around broken reality shooting stars falling shamelessly broken dreams walk aimlessly
Crude tongues unfiltered and cold
Money put in diamond lockets
No lose change in pockets
Gucci, Prada, red bottoms prancing over concrete mattresses
cocaine pillows and sheets of paper
5th avenue to Brooklyn
the city of lights
flying high on molly
Deaf to naked babies crying
Eyes are focused straight ahead
Unless they're begging to be fed.
The day finally faded into an awakening dream replacing the nightmares of her dark past.
Valiant stars scorched her defenses that had stood the fiery test of time. Casting away the diffidence wore as shackles into the redemptive warmth of the sun.
That euphoric night filled her body with dancing fantasies awakening a yearning desire for passion within her.
The heart that she held within her no longer seeped sorrow from the cracks left by misery. No longer did she was she suffocated by the fog of her failures.
Her chest now pounded to a rhythm of possibility and redemption poured out from the healing scars of her survival.
The sun awoke beaming rays of renewal through the transcending clouds...
Her feet hadn't callused enough to walk the rocky path she was on. The sharp words she stood on cut her toes and stabbed her bones.
We walk a path of imperfections and purification daily but how do we choose to change? Or do we?
Do we choose to be defined or refined by the obstacles, triumphs, or the mundane.
Do we choose to be victims to our monsters or students to the teachers.
Are we mere customers window shopping at the business of life or are we entrepreneurs creating our own journey.
Are we leaders to the ones whom need someone to grasp onto and follow or are we the ones that need a hand to guide us.
The life we love and often hate with the same depth of passion is so full of consequence and retrospective remorse.
Some days we choose to bury our heads in the quick sand of depression, mourning, and hate while other...
Oh the familiar ache of broken hope that I have come to know so well why have you com visiting me again? I cut my losses and burned the bridges to the places in my heart that believed in fairytales. How did you tip toe across the tight rope of my sanity into the crack I didn't know was even there. Why did you so unnoticeably creep your way in only to remind me of how hollow the pain your presence is. When I close you out this final time please seal the leak with my final desperate tears for a dream and never come back again.
Her dewy rose lips trimbled as she gazed into her shattered reflection in the antique hanging mirror. As glassy tears drizzled down her hot cheeks she had never felt so alone. Her kind face never looked so sad
as this day when her heart broke in the realization that she had not a soul in the world to call her own. As she gazed into her once brilliant eyes that had radiated innocence and joy and the magic thirst for things unknown all she found gazing back at her were sunken potholes of muddy dreams jumped on by... by what. What had broken the fragile girl that had once lived to love and slept to dream. Her inspired mind raced in so many directions she rarely could finish a sentence before a n...
Your jaded heart stinks of the jealously you write. Midnight chases and idiocracies erase the man you used to be. Broken pieces and ramblings of who you wish to be. Bitter boys of savage pasts cling to energy that can only wear masks. You dare to awaken a heart so dead and claim to understand the hell its known. You ignorant coward hiding in your pathetic self pity of solitude. You can't even see it was you that broke her again and again and again. And now you lost her precious soul and spit at the one that picked it up from the puddle of embellishment you left it in. Ha you say you never judge? Get down from you high horse, you fool, you are first to cast a stone. Oh the irony of a man that ...
Some people think I'm crazy
Telling tales of unhinged nights
Some people think I'm a wild one Telling tales of immoral rendezvous
Some people think I'm fragile
They think they control my soul
I say I'm a wanderer, a dreamer, and unable to be tamed
their whiskey tales make my spirit dance
And I'm not changing the song
Plastic hair and ombré lips the filters contour out their souls. With masks of bronze and highlighting dreams their unspoken fears dance the streets at night. The moon shimmers on their facades of a world where no ones bleeds. Rubies and gold pour off the tongues of the plastic army of GI Joes. Wearing labels of fortune and jewels of fame they wear their armor so no one can see. Chosen barbies plucked out of the organic world to dance in corners and draw in more clowns. Poker faced statues of gods erase the conscious and throw you into a spin. Magic whiskey and pink potions pour over their boundaries and defeat the guardians of their character. Ken dolls watch from bar tops as the Barbie doll...
I can feel your mighty presence hunting me in the shadows. I can feel your perpetual demons spreading out seeking to find me in depths of self destruction. To Feel your vengeance slithering around like a hungry serpent was skill I developed in order to survive. The way I learned how to judge which monster came home to me every morning by the weight of your charred boots as they stepped through our red door and onto the granite floor. I can feel you on the prowl to destroy me like the multitude of women you have left in bloody path of arrogance after beating them recklessly and raping their bodies. How do the hands that save lives from raging fires morph into hands that dismember the hearts a...
She laid the delicate pearls that were once her mothers around her fragile neck and wore meek smile on her uncertain face. Gracefully she stroked her hair into perfectly cascading ribbons of gold that caressed her frail shoulders. Taking one last glimpse in the mirror to reassure herself that this time she would be found worthy. She looked at herself in the dress she had carefully chosen in efforts to hide the desperation she had for his affection that lurked just underneath its crushed black velvet bodice. Locking eyes with the woman reflecting back at her and whispering a tale of how cherished she was and how lucky he was to have her. Seducing her own soul with pleading prayers that this ...
Home for Misfits
Are you tired, are you broken, are you rejected and alone? Do you sing a song to a different tune and dance to a rhythm of your own? Are you a black sheep, a Lone Ranger, are you living rejected by the world. Kindred spirit, heart of my heart you are welcome here. We will paint a scarlet letter on my door but, within the walls we are so much more. I will love you and feed you and keep you as my own. Had you never felt belonging my house is now your home. Were you forsaken by your mother or left bruised by your dad? Were duped the odd kid out and poked until you bled. Did you never find your people or have that someone hold your hand? Is your heart too tender and your soul t...
Seen But Not Heard
diamonds and rubies
their vast riches they threw at her in efforts to wear her beauty like a crown on their arrogance
But they never saw what made her magnificent
The depths of her soul and unattainable spirit that made her in invaluable on her own
There's a charcoal hole that whispers a ghostly song on deaths ear but isn't haunting enough to sing my song. I cry out the darkest words to describe the muted agony and ravenous pain but they don't recount for the hollow ruins within me. Pleading for exoneration from stinging blades of desperation and relentlessly reaching through shattered stained glass windows in hauntingly empty church walls but no one hears. Ive moaned so gruesomely my delicate goddess soul turned into ice that burned to the touch, but no one can feel what I feel. If silence was the only tool I had and for once you glanced into my eyes would you feel the torment, would you see the despair? Would you fall to your knees h...
Today. Today should've been the day we gazed back at timeless photos and laughed about memories made. Today should've been the day we gazed into each others eyes and saw all the "today's" ahead. Today should've been the day. However, there's another day other than today that permanently changed all my today's. That day should've been the beginning of bliss. That day should've been the moment my heart was safe and my soul was found. But that day was the beginning of my slow death. That day began my journey of ruthless torture and watching myself slowly fade into the haunting tales of yesterday's. That day marked the day I surrendered my life to the man who loved to touch my body from the insid...
Where did you come from, sweet angel of mine. Where did your gorgeous soul of scandal and betrayal slither out of? Was your father a demon from hell shooting poison into you thirsty veins or did you evolve from something so disgusting and dark within your mother that she cradled you in her hideous discretions. When you drive your perfectly carved tongue of wickedness in her back does your soul scream with victory? Do you laugh at the drops of crimson as they cascade down her delicate spine? Her soul leaking out from the holes where devils dance and broken angels cry out to feed on the depleted breast of their beaten mothers. Where feathers grow like wildflowers to carry her pulsing carcass w...
Your hot breath burned the back of my neck as the words you whispered broke my skin like the daggers of betrayal they were. How we get entangled in a web of insecurities, illusions and distorted lies of the hunters that prey on the heart. Like a stepping stone or a pawn in a game of destroying a dream that wasn't ours. Your heart hurts and awakens your devilish spirit that suffocates your soul and leaves a trail of glassy tears in its wake in efforts to burn the one. The one. The one that demolished your sparkle. Spit in your glass of champagne. Now when you look at your reflection blazing back at you in the tender hearted fool mesmerized by your words of superior love and romanticized herois...
On dampened pillows where tears drops danced you'll find him sleeping there. Drumming a rhythm of whiskey sorrows and a warriors scars he'll dance just for you. His blood thirsty song clashes against his satin touch on your skin and when he speaks the words of romance they'll break your back and move your soul to dance with him. The battle of what once ripped your heart to shreds can't handle a ride like his. And the soldier heart of a tormented boy keeps him just too far. Bitterness is the fuel of the glorious masterpiece he is. His body is yet a dance of its own a perfectly composed melody chiseled with the uncompromising ways of his own. He choreographed this one for you a long time ago b...