Page 90 of 94

Posted on

Bus Driver

Ferrying the damned souls off to their personal Hells…

Not a great job but at least it pays the bills.

Posted on

The unforgotten

Your name,
our first kiss,
the first time we made love.

Your home,
your family,
the way they treated me.

Your apartment,
the drive there,
all the times you weren’t available.

Your tears,
my disappointment,
and the last time that we fought.

Posted on

I was sober and clean when I wrote this and that is why I don’t drink or do drugs

I want to cut you –

and not just little nicks
but full-body slashes
that lessen you by chunks
and make you cover up year-round
to hide from all the questions
about the pieces of you I took.

I want to break you –

and lay into you with such force
that my fists are bleeding too
and I can’t raise my arms anymore.
I want you to feel my anger
every time you move
from that day forward.

I want to dirty you –

so that people look at you
with shameful sideways glances
like I see them look at me.
I want to make you so fucking filthy
that I’m goddamn pristine
by comparison.

I hate you.

I hate your laughter and your tears,
your humility and your pride,
and your goodness and your vice.
I want to hate you with all my heart
because in those moments I succeed
in forgetting how much I hate myself.

Posted on

Carpe Diem

These endless days continue onward,
like waves flowing out into the sea
only to become dull, gray echoes
lost within the ocean.

The hands on the clock reach for me,
slowly making their way to my throat
and even as I flee their inescapable grip
I hear the closing “Click. Click. Click.” of their boot heels.

My days are a damned torrent of tomorrows,
a neverending nightmare in which novelty
is the only saving respite –
yet it erodes as well…

I want to make these moments mean something –
to regain the vigor of my youthful days
when I was a God in my back yard
and every day was a gift to be unwrapped.

I want to blow away the dust gathered on my heart,
sweep out the cobwebs collected in my soul,
and banish the stifling and stagnant air
so I can breathe again.

This life is mine and mine alone.
I refuse to spend my time running away.
Living is something that must be seized
and this is the moment I awaken from my daze.

Posted on

Cloud reader

When others talk, they talk about people
because they know people.
I talk about clouds
and I think that’s the difference between us.

While they keep their minds
on the realities of the world,
my eyes keep drifting up
in a daydream daze.

Because I’m still wondering
if that firebird I saw flying into the sun
the week before the Iraq war
meant something.

Posted on

Heaven

It can be a place
where you find solace
or perhaps a face
in which you see grace.

But be it land or home or love
in which you see the sacred dove
it’s that which you hold high above
and constantly sing praises of.