Your sadness is my message
For I have lost this control.
My diary has spilled black
Upon every written row.
Demon arise!
Demon show yourself!
You are yet a mystery
Each time it implodes,
And your matinee
Has left my evenings dry,
Lost into depths
Of a fire now spent;
Abyss uncharted.
Tag: spent
Plans, Man (day 1712)
Yesterday I was a man
Today I have no sin
A better man,
A bigger name,
Confessed and over spent.
Am I awake?
I’ve pinched myself
I see with my two eyes.
Yet here I sit
Under used
And selling ideas
For a much bigger plan.
Never Anarchy Love (day 1045)
It’s never the end all
The catch your breath
And look back a second time.
It’s never anarchy,
Two bits vying for love.
It’s a death trap,
And Boris is dead.
We aren’t the restless,
We’re the owners:
Ruthless and cheap.
Talking back and rigging it,
Cheap thrills and lose tongues
And leaving worthless, spent.
Cause I’m not alive
– Horribly penniless –
Missing all the good times.
I walk with arms open
For your outstretched revolution
To move my soul.
To catch me
To look back and
For all my breath, moments
Stretched into life and death.
Empty Bottles (day 292)
I have spent the day in a bucket of sorrow
Milking my wounds with spikes in the head
Perhaps the longer I look at my reflection in the mirror
The smaller the glare will be
Would it make sense if I chopped a little off the top?
Then I’d let the steaks burn just a little longer
To sear away the pain left lingering
Like the smell of clothes after a night out
Drops of laughter echo through the closed eyes
Into the open palms of wrinkled skin
Weathered like the sin I ate in my sleep
Like the sin I slept on in the night
When I crashed down, reminiscent of childhood
Riding fast along the single-track trails
Head first over the handlebars into the overgrown grass
Secret steps I’ve tripped over ever time
Empty bottles left behind the bed
