I keep my muse in a bottle. I shake it every once in a while- Or tap it like a kid at a fish bowl- It doesn't move, stir or come back to life; It just idly floats through its own filth. I sigh. Typical, I mutter as I flush in down the toilet And… Continue reading A muse in a bottle
We're picking stitches out of the floor... Are normal people ever this bored? To the point of self-destruction In order to feel some direction? News flash: We're catching comas to Feel alive; Taking pills when we're Already addicted. Of course we feel the sting of promises Beneath our skin, We're suns just waiting to happen;… Continue reading We’re picking stitches out of the floor
Four little teacups sit on the wall, And four friendly voices drift on the still, country air. They sit down by the boats and talk about the good weather, And family, and how Johnnie from across the way is doing much better. They listen to the sounds of a dozen little birds, To the gentle… Continue reading Four little teacups sit on the wall
I'm brooding over a mug Of black coffee at 4am, Trying to warm my cold bones And broken heart... Oh please, I drink green tea After my morning yoga; I'm about as happy as it gets. Unfortunately mountains poses And sunrise Don't sell quite as well As moonlight and despair.
She's cursed me, This mind of mine, And now we're creeping through nightmares Once again. I used to dream of gold in my bed at night, But now I just follow her down.
Bury the hatchet, Or better yet burn it And scatter the ashes so far across the sea We stand no chance of digging it up. 'Cause I know you, You'll get bored and start looking. At least this way We can only stand on the beach And reminisce in what It used to be.
My feet feel like stormy seas, Leading me away from shore. My hands feel like cloudy skies, Grasping at nothing but fog- Feeling nothing but rainfall. My eyes see like rocky ground, Littered with rubble from the past.
It's the most wonderful time
Of the year.
Why do you kneel in prayer To this aloof Heaven That has never spoken A word Of forgiveness Or paradise? Those were all your Meanings; See, I think it’s man you’re praying to. Not God. Do you really think you can see yourself In the angelic forms Looming in pane? Do you find salvation In… Continue reading Blasphemy
Fold today into a paper boat, and push it downstream, Just let yesterday float away on the breeze; Watch tomorrow come sailing home.