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Survival is all I’ve ever known
Though I do life beside you
Im still completely alone.
For what, in life, I’ve overcome
Overcame my heart
And made my spirit numb
So, laying here, wrapped up in you
Is the loneliest place I’ve ever known
A Living Disorder
To waste the breath on explanations that will disperse into the fog that muddles your ability to perceive my mannerisms and appreciate the inner intricacies of my complicated soul would leave me with an abundant feeling of failure and the merciless echoing voice that whispers in my head that I am not enough.
You see me rushing about chronically late, flushed by the label of inadequacy. With my head spinning upon my flamboyant compilation of colors and textiles that cloak my ridiculed body. Only hoping the ensemble deflects your eyes from seeing that I am a hostage to my own paralyzing fears of inadequacy and inability to collect all my extraordinary ideas into a mani...
Homicide of a Colorful Soul
A splash of color in a black and white world tortures your narcissistic ego while erasing all the beautiful hues of light.
Glowing ambers, orange and blue, burn wildly when I day dream hatching the nesting cockroaches that crawl up your spine and infest your life with filterless words, a bitter heart and a blindness of your eye.
My days I spent painting the world with spontaneous adventures and enthusiastic rides, yours was crashing into an oblivion tortured by the wild hunt for passion burning in my eyes.
You’d miss life's vibrancy if I turn into the mundane, if my light dimmed and my effervescent spirit melted away.
Hearts are fragile when they’ve been brok...
Wonder into the blinding darkness of her inner self, I dare you. For he that has never felt the sting of a cold slash to the skin or the burn of a cigarette to the soft flesh of the thigh I warn you, don’t come too close. She has loved too many and been murdered by too few. Most just leave her vulnerably bleeding and trashed on the stone. There’s a beautiful symphony in those that love like the world is going to end knowing too late it’s their own candle about to dim. Between the light of love beating in innocent hearts and the burnt chambers of broken parts the melody has melted into a moan. Ghostly cries that she whispers at night when no one protects her heart. Too many knights became mon...
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...
She is the gray right before the dark
And the glow before the suns glory
Her heart is that secret no one knows
That heavy rhythm muted by the wind
Her eyes are targets, her soul is deep
When she touches you you feel the warm sadness
Followed by a chill of her lost entangled tale
How she floats on the golden floor of heaven
When she moves you’ll beg her for more
Her lips are as tender as wilted rose buds
Left on the doorstep of scorned lovers remorse
If you dare to breathe her in you’ll suffocate
She doesn’t know her own spirit
So she will feed on yours.
I drift in the absence of self and wonder who I am.
Seeking answers and truths that only exist in no mans land.
Do you know me? Do you know who I am?
Can you tell me where I’m going or who I’ve been
Twisting my memories and stretching the lies I tell myself to survive
A web of make believe I’m stuck in the strings of tales
Tell me who I am and who I want to be
Empty pages filled with authors of my book spinning false beliefs of realities and dreams
He tells me I’m a warrior strong and unique. Dancing on my spirit a rhythm of strength.
He tells me I’m a body meant to touch and play. Tickling my value with physical pain.
He tells me I’m his world and I carry the burden so well. Weighing on my...
Weeping willows in the night dancing on my sorrow. Gently caressing the tears that peer over the ledge of my glassy eye and guide them down my cheek. Perfectly majestic, how they strum my heart strings and dance to my cry. I lay under the strands of fear and leaves of pain catching a glimpse of glistening stars and dreams in the moon. My heart fights through the tangled ribbons trying to fly above the traps and cages of the the wicked willows grasp. To endlessly soar in breathless hope and romancing lights of conquered and pardoned pasts.
The anger that is burning within me lights my souls and melts my heart into a puddle of fuck you. The deception and slime of the conversations and questions and accusations that wisp past my knowledge as my life is dissected and my faults are chanted around a fire of repulsive judgement and what’s only
Understood as cowardly nature. Cowardly heroism of those that whisper their concerns and condolences behind your back without the character to speak with a heart of love and concern into your eyes. My heart aches with familiarity and cries for justice but stings of lessons unlearned and minds programmed to blame the change on the easy to point at instead of the buried or blinding truth. My ange...
Poetic justice, poetic pain
You’re an addiction strumming in my brain.
Riveting seduction, perpetuating chill
Filling my lungs with your desire to kill.
Hypnotic gazes, crippling sight
You left me dismembered after last night
Enthralling sentiments, perversion of the lips
Adulterating my heart with word apocalypse
Alluring fingers, I️ cannot breathe
Your twisted memory is strangling me.
Lean on me when you’re weak and I️ will hold us both
Rest your broken soul on my boldness and drift into your sweet slumber
Lay your hand in my cold fingers so I️ can lead the way
To somewhere you feel safe while I️ stand in the fire
Don’t you worry about my broken back when you lay into me
Or be concerned about my weeping spirit as you whisper to the moon
Don’t shutter about the path I️ clear for you under my shaking legs.
Through my brokenness I’ll be strong enough for you.
Perfect memories never paint a perfect picture of the present.
The purest of shadows are now stained with echos and demons of survival
Love in its purest form has no grudge or remorse or lack of compassion.
Yet not the strongest soul contains a soul to dance my love song.
In 5 days it will be 5 years
5 years I've been pushing and pulling and sweating and crying
5 years I've been showing up and proving myself to be of value
5 years I've sworn I'd never be a victim or a slave or a doormat
5 years I've fought to be important....to be validated in life
For 5 years I have cowardly and courageously battled my own demons and the massacres of others
I've worked my fingers to the bones and broken my own heart more times than I can admit
1825 days I've woke up and relived the nightmare of proving I'm worthy of love, of acceptance, of respect
43800 hours I've fought a broken heart that had healed into stone and smiled through the pain
2,628,000 minutes I've breath...
Tight knit and woven close was how I remember it to be. Dreams shared and fantasies danced beneath the love of our tree. I'd never look back to check if you were there because I knew, your presence was strong. My tears fell like babbling spring but you caught each tear. My smiles reflected yours in the light of joyful days and promising nights. My hand was always held when the dark lonely ghosts haunted me and my shoulder always held your head when you stumbled and needed somewhere to rest. Never did i imagine the day that I'd stand alone outside the window peering in at the family I once adored. The soul shaking thought of being an outsider to the tribe I revered and adored lau...
I remember my first encounter with a homeless man asking for money in San Antonio around christmas time when I was young. I remember how my heart could not understand the fear and avoidance of him. I was permitted to put $2 out the cracked window before we sped off without hesitation. Also one of my first memories of writing. Now many years later and a bit more callused the homeless still pull at my heart strings. Upon returning home
to Texas after visiting Seattle I finally have time to write out how I experienced the obscene and tragic amount of homeless men, women, and children. And furthermore, the callused hearts that walk passed them.
Soulless in Seattle
Don't look at them with the...
When the crisp air hits your skin like the touch of a million shooting stars and the sun light drips onto your face like the kiss of a warmth so comforting you never have to be cold again, that is where you will find us.
When the song of the morning birds chirp to the sound of my heavy breathing and the dew dances down your breast like the sweet sweat of your lovers quiver, that is where you'll find us.
When your dreams are movies of every romantic scene from the past and the words of poets speak the messages locked within your heart, that is where you'll find us.
Where fairytales meet ever afters that no one believed to exist and love sick melodies flow out of trembling lips that were once t...
The miles between
The miles were years that told two tales of chasing lust and falling broken more times than one should. Smoky garages filled with bandits and barbarians and babies crying for their daddies while mommies grasp at strings.
The time was an excruciating monopoly of keeping up with the joness and losing the race against hiding from their fears. The hours birthed millions of lessons that made the days feel unbearable and the weeks of solitude seem to never end.
His moments of reality were shackled in whiskey drenched nights that landed his heart in redemption. Awakening a man that surpassed the mundane love the world had come to accept and bloomed into a treasure to be discovered...
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 ...