We’re picking stitches out of the floor

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;…

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Four little teacups sit on the wall

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…

She’s Cursed Me

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

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.

I know you fancy yourself to be quite the artist

I know you fancy yourself to be quite the artist, But the rest of us just see it as graffiti; Walls and walls of words Hell-bent on ruining everything You spent your life building. Go Ahead. Burn it to the ground, Something or other will rise in its place. Bend Hell into whatever shape you…

Well, forever?

Yes, I think I will stay for another, For just a little while longer. There's the smell of loneliness in the air And I am in no rush. Tell me stranger, Why doesn't forever always last for... Well, forever?

My feet feel like stormy seas

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.

postcards from tilburg

You'll find me by the canal, or perched on the balcony- Odd socks swinging four stories up, Or bare toes tracing water- een bier in my hand, just window shopping the world.  

frayed around the edges

I can see clouds in the sky... They're shaped like me and you; Frayed around the edges and slowly drifting apart.

dear diary III

Dear Diary, Someone else mentioned they'd  Read my poem today. It made me happy that they'd taken The time to do so. But then, They did not tell me what they thought- Not even a simple compliment. No, They asked me if I was ok ...