Burn
Curse this starlit life
Jump in a pit of fire
Let my force push you on rocks
Be strong
Why the hell are you crying
Take on my dreams
Live up to my expectations
I know what is best
Ingest the crumbs which fall from my table
Overflowing with the love I cannot spare
I won’t notice you
You selfish, self absorbed, self pitying bitch
Get your nose out of that freedom
Put your mind under my control
If you are so hungry bitch
Eat the soul you’ve put down on paper.
A Slightly Lacking Lovesong
My pen hits paper in attempt to tell you of my feelings for you
But my phrasing, thoughts, and diction all seem a bit inadequate.
I try to draw some parallels, but the words aren’t making head from tail.
It’s not that I’m a perfectionist; you just deserve much more than this.
When comparison starts to pail, I throw my hands into the air,
As teardrops mixed with blue ink accumulate to from an ocean,
And as I’m drowning in this sorrow
While trying to stay afloat
I’m calling out your name
‘Cause it’s my last reserve of hope.
Would you care so much, oh would you be let down?
If I could only write you now
A slightly lacking lovesong;
Something sadly insufficient, if unforgetable to my mind.
What if I said half the words aren’t even mine?
A slightly lacking lovesong;
No one could say I didn’t try.
Would it be enough for you to know that not one word of it’s a lie?
Waiting
I’m just waiting to awake
To your breath caressing my face
I’m longing for your hand in mine
I cry every time I remember your taste
I’m dying for the day
When I fall asleep to you repeating my name
Oh, tell me our parting is a lie
Tell me I’ll see you again in this life
I’m just waiting to awake
Q:WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?
When I remember her face I have to shield my eyes from the sunlight which seemed to always radiate around her silhouette; catching little sparkles in her golder hair, and casting shadows on her face marked with laughter. She looked beautiful when she smiled; and when she smiled, her world began to spin around her with joy. My first memory is watching as she reached up to feel the warm spring breeze flowing around her fingertips.
Fall
What would it feel like to caress the inner workings of your mind
And to savor the taste of our intamate understanding?
A taste which conjures broken dreams to the surface of our melting hearts.
Would your secrets entrap my attention
As each whispered word brushes my ear when passing from your lips?
What wouldn’t I do to entwine ideas with yours?
We could be more than talking and touching.
We could be sharing and adoring.
If we cannot speak of what is in our lives
Will you let your thoughts drop from you
Like leaves drop from trees
and press them
between these pages
with mine?
Freeing My Expression
I deeply believe that the day the world lost the sun was the day art was made to hang in galleries.
I want to write for us, not you or me. My drive for creation is not to burden you with works of narcissistic judgment and lofty opinion. Nor do I intend whatsoever of adhering to a market minded strategy which would increase my following for the benefit of self esteem. I want to cultivate understanding and empathy between us. I ask that you would hear my voice of honest expression and respond with the same. Art should capture, share, and inspire!
