after everything that didn't hit...
and after every name that was unrequited ...
how many hit did it take to sleep...
and forget the epic trial and faith given...
to another one who kept quite...
never a peep of any folly or a win...
it always ends in an angry swallow of emotions...
always followed by the cheapest of rot gut...
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
white lights
watching the white lights from rear view mirrors, always from behind...
they creep across from dark streets, streets that were never noticed...
they never meet with blessing they just always stare into mirrors...
the lovely dreams are always just beyond the red lights...
everything always seems dim after those reds become white...
its when everything goes black do all those lights be lost...
left holding a line between the dim lights ahead...
they creep across from dark streets, streets that were never noticed...
they never meet with blessing they just always stare into mirrors...
the lovely dreams are always just beyond the red lights...
everything always seems dim after those reds become white...
its when everything goes black do all those lights be lost...
left holding a line between the dim lights ahead...
Monday, November 25, 2013
here's to finding words later
sneaking past, avoiding looks and situations of shame. In the past few months after the pretty moments that were spoken. words were spoken like a poet but didn't fit in the normal dialog. something in those sentence seemed like truth and to be seen now with the cloak of words was some sort of death...
and if in those days before were less than a dream, this fool was always stepping between being on fire for saying words with more feeling... as a fool these were the only feelings that could spit.
after all is said and lost before the next day... looks are only given, like more than words, a simple grace that only in this painful moment can be left
and if in those days before were less than a dream, this fool was always stepping between being on fire for saying words with more feeling... as a fool these were the only feelings that could spit.
after all is said and lost before the next day... looks are only given, like more than words, a simple grace that only in this painful moment can be left
bottoming out
there are some parts of being from the dirt, that are better than others. but in the sight of making it to a better night, always seems to be spilled on a workers shit with your own name spelled across the right breast.
nothing can be expected more than the "can't stomach them or can't stand them". how many of these insults and depressing nights have to had to find the silver lining?
its a crap shoot hoping on not having a seed grow in that shit kind of life... the cheap whiskey and beer is what fuels, this self loathing about potential.
every drink is the last that will lead to bigger and better fortunes outside of the working class dreams. dreams of crossing the greatest's of oceans that can't be seen from the windows, or running lost across even greater plans where men fought for a glimpse of those oceans.
and when the last call comes everyone always sounds like they're bottoming out till they press their alcoholed blood across a mess of life... something lost or checking out.
everything always seems that proves a 20/20 version of everything till everything is lost with a disruption or complacent falsehood...
always dreaming to see more than the gears, more than the bottle. everyone has to bottom out before they see the fear they hate.
maybe another drink before these questions can be asked again...
nothing can be expected more than the "can't stomach them or can't stand them". how many of these insults and depressing nights have to had to find the silver lining?
its a crap shoot hoping on not having a seed grow in that shit kind of life... the cheap whiskey and beer is what fuels, this self loathing about potential.
every drink is the last that will lead to bigger and better fortunes outside of the working class dreams. dreams of crossing the greatest's of oceans that can't be seen from the windows, or running lost across even greater plans where men fought for a glimpse of those oceans.
and when the last call comes everyone always sounds like they're bottoming out till they press their alcoholed blood across a mess of life... something lost or checking out.
everything always seems that proves a 20/20 version of everything till everything is lost with a disruption or complacent falsehood...
always dreaming to see more than the gears, more than the bottle. everyone has to bottom out before they see the fear they hate.
maybe another drink before these questions can be asked again...
Sunday, November 24, 2013
If I didn't
I'm a stamped out letter in the mud...
I can say what I mean...
My words are vague and unsure...
If it wasn't for my weakness...
I'd have a photo of a daily failure...
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Berserk
Who could find the meaning between breathes...
Don't know why the words have too much...
Even if all was given there couldn't be truth...
But there is no shame in living otherwise...
There is too much to say about anything....
where the fire never caught
between the decades of lost direction, there have been at least two times that my eyes gave way to a weakness. a weakness that i may have wished to have slept through, for better or worst. even when i had to when i had to submit to another, my eyes still held dear the look in the brief moment that i should have chased then and regretted later.
but as with some fates it is better to have acted then to say "better later, than never" not in the story of the heart being love. a child may not know, it only has truth for then and not of any agenda.
from a decade beyond the fight out of childhood, the time was past too many petty sins that didn't matter, but struck a different life afterwards. a night that was breathing fierce alcohol and an anger from losing before this encounter... it was all revenge against the cowardice of youth.
everything was shot down after the guilt of fear in the late lies that wouldn't hold today... too much alcohol and poisons had changed the fate that was in that battle for adulthood.
years to be after in a ram shackled mess a cool black haired beauty questioned my name as truth stared into my heart when i gave her the same when we crossed. we should have run off then but i was still lost in her and confused about what i believed.
after the long breathes i took afterwards it was all over and there came a new darkness that held her that i couldn't fight, it was her drug that she loved more than the fate that was that moment when we lost everything... but nothing came of it other than another dumb drunk fight for remembering another stupid night.
but as with some fates it is better to have acted then to say "better later, than never" not in the story of the heart being love. a child may not know, it only has truth for then and not of any agenda.
from a decade beyond the fight out of childhood, the time was past too many petty sins that didn't matter, but struck a different life afterwards. a night that was breathing fierce alcohol and an anger from losing before this encounter... it was all revenge against the cowardice of youth.
everything was shot down after the guilt of fear in the late lies that wouldn't hold today... too much alcohol and poisons had changed the fate that was in that battle for adulthood.
years to be after in a ram shackled mess a cool black haired beauty questioned my name as truth stared into my heart when i gave her the same when we crossed. we should have run off then but i was still lost in her and confused about what i believed.
after the long breathes i took afterwards it was all over and there came a new darkness that held her that i couldn't fight, it was her drug that she loved more than the fate that was that moment when we lost everything... but nothing came of it other than another dumb drunk fight for remembering another stupid night.
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