Poetry XII.

(It's been a while I know; writing works sometimes, flowing through every vein, but sometimes life needs to be experienced so as to have a reason to write)

Rising nostalgia swirling past birthday wishes that never came true

strike a match to take me back

happy times my dear with far too much hype they could never live up to

there were always tears on my birthday, happy birthday to you

happy birthday to you

someone is always off key.

Never had enough time to shut eyes tight make a wish and blow

they were always wasted on falling stars and could never think of anything good enough, worthy enough for such a special day

stars fallen from the dark, presents without a careful wrapping job

melancholy sigh slips out between bites of wax dripped cake

elbows on the table

Poetry XI.

Dissipation Prescribed

All I want to do is sleep away the afternoon,

after fucking your warm body all morning on the musty futon in the den.

I'll wake up sleepy eyed in the evening as the nightly news broadcast starts,

and think about those strong calloused hands, their gentle caress.

Why I get you in the mornings never seems to faze me,

as I close my eyes at the stroke of noon you lock the door behind you;

I disregard the truth and dream of dawn approaching.

Poetry X.

It seems there's always a sparkle on your face,

just one,

not in the gleam of your eyes,

not in the shine of your lipgloss,

one sparkle, a hint at the secret buried beneath.

Poetry IX.

I hate to be lonely,

but company brings me back to reality,

making me itch to be alone once more,

thoughts and dreams carry scenes of prosper,

the life in my head keeps me occupied.

Reality is adequate,

mediocre.

Pale in comparison to the the conjured truths,

technicolor dreams keep mind's eye bright,

leaves real life begging at it it's feet.

something

I drew this awhile ago, just uploaded it and digitally added the vignette.

It's just a sketch, nothing special.

Poetry VIII.

Mystery in Text:

What's it going to be then, eh?

Mr. Burgess inquired me, from behind the page;

This got me thinking, real hard and hot,

my reply, a weak collision on the page,

I know not how to respond,

"oh shit, oh man where do I begin,

I know all that I want, know not what will be".