When The Music Stops

when the music stops…
last note from the last song fades into the background
the album’s spin is through…

that’s when you hear the sound
of an echo turning blue

then you feel the freeze
colder than the arctic

silence

a lead-footed frost nips at your ears
’cause there’s no sound
to muffle the splashing of your tears

Starvation

when you can never get enough food to eat bc of your metabolism & the horrors of capitalism 

when you can never hear enough compliments bc your low self esteem keeps tossing them aside

when each day feels the same as the last bc of the same old shiz 

when you’re ready to quit climbing the mountain you’re on & just fall into the sea 

that’s when you compose a post

just to see

how many others are just as hungry 

as me

just to see

how many others aren’t free

Piercing Slit

twist & stick the blade in
over & over & over again
as my crimson flows down into the wastebin
I’m sure you’ll mark this down as a win

but as I remember
who I was and who I am
over time I realized
my life force has intensified by getting to know you

No, not you.
YOU
the only One can who can truly rule in this sacred land

so keep twisting if you must
I feel no pain
as long as I side with the truth, I can only gain
the power fantastic
the power to give love one more try

even as my crimson flows
I know because You
I know I can never truly die

via Daily Prompt: Puncture

Sleep, We’ve Been Over This Before…

a neverending nightmare
like a toxic case of a deep down ugly spell
whittling away at my health points in a role playing game

sleep is, once again, becoming less a temporary break from the ridiculous nature of our collective consciousness that we are forced to participate in & becoming more of a continuation of the same, that I have no control over

sleep
oh, how my dreams mock me
broadcasting my failures & teasing me with optimistic subliminal images of what could, should, happen in the future
a remote in my hand that doesn’t work
involuntarily watching what ever happens to be on

like a bird in flight snapping its neck against a squeaky clean window
it’s getting harder to know if I’m going the right way

sleep
please just let me rest
that’s all I have to say

3.18.17

I am a lonely sinner
some may say i’m not okay
as i live in my box,
a box full of scribbled & ignored music notation paper
holding a pen with no ink

some same say only the Holy know what to say
when living in a box all alone
a single tear drops in my nappy garden
& wets the paper with splotches

dots. notes. sprinkle on, starkid, like the purple rain drops of yesteryear

that sing a melody that reminds me of you somehow

maybe i’ll let it play as i pour another drink

Love Seed

There are days where I don’t particularly feel anything
More days than I care to even fathom
Days where any sensation seems to pass over me with no bearing
As if I were merely a phantom

Drifting along in space without a suit, no oxygen to breathe
You’d think that would be cause for alarm
Perhaps it would
If it weren’t one of those days

More days than I care to fathom
Makes me wonder if Time is actually passing at all
Is it like smoke?
Does the inside of Pandora’s box simply not care
or is the punchline missing from this big cosmic joke?

Still…

These days are not everyday
at least I’ll tell myself that while I continue to be
& squeeze my eyes until they’re ready to bleed

letting the tears water my Love Seed