prayers
won't save you from drowning,
gasping for money to pull you out of
endless hours of work,
weak smiled and shaky handed
when did feeling old start outpacing growing it?
prayers
won't save you from your decayed marriage
sanctified in the Lord's house,
presided by a respected priest,
the guests of the reception
have disappeared
along with the mechanics of normal conversation
prayers
will not take your tired body
and baptize it with new life and vigor
your young days are gone and you don't
know if you have the strength to
make more golden moments to
hang on to
hope is your lifeline and your noose
prayers will do nothing for you
but I begin to suspect that
they never were supposed to.
I am still drinking about you
Don't take yourself so seriously
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Sunday, December 29, 2013
flood warning
What is the point of a rainy day
if
getting a little wet
isn't worth the cost of explaining why you need
soaked clothes
and
chattering teeth
to save yourself from
being sub
merged
if
getting a little wet
isn't worth the cost of explaining why you need
soaked clothes
and
chattering teeth
to save yourself from
being sub
merged
Thursday, December 26, 2013
fucking shattered
We're all fucking shattered,
one way or another.
Gather up your pieces
and tell me
why you bleed.
Monday, December 23, 2013
A draft too personal, a blog just unknown enough
Are you happy?
In the depths of solitude at the hands of pressing night,
with nothing stirring except the murmurs of outside and the
steady pulse of a digital clock, display as red as the
beating, thumping of your heart against your chest
sliding under chilly covers, eyes against the ceiling watching
shadows dance in your eyes and feeling the dark
press around you.
And exhaling the most
quiet sigh that only you can hear within your shell of
utmost singularity,
are you happy?
The only question I can bring myself to ask.
The only answer I can't bring myself to hear.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
bridges
I don't so much burn them as I let them
fall apart slowly
decay with disuse and
quiet, solemn self-destruction.
I teach myself to walk thin tightropes instead,
floating on air and half-muttered curses
for these are more beautiful sometimes
than the flames of
a past imploding silently,
smoke rising as I tiptoe across lightly.
fall apart slowly
decay with disuse and
quiet, solemn self-destruction.
I teach myself to walk thin tightropes instead,
floating on air and half-muttered curses
for these are more beautiful sometimes
than the flames of
a past imploding silently,
smoke rising as I tiptoe across lightly.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
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