“Patience Is A Virtue”

Don’t break yourself now

Keep your temper in

And bleed your mouth dry

Trying not to scream

They won’t hear you anyway

And they’ll never listen

Not until they find evidence

Then they’ll lock you up

Sabotaging the hate they all

Once told you to ask for

Crashing the arrogance until

Everything’s fucking stale

So don’t break yourself now

Because even if you do

It’s not like it will even matter

To anyone but yourself.

vaccuum

take me to a place

where i don’t matter

and no one ever matters

and reality never matters

and nothing else matters

.

take me to a place

where my thoughts matter

and the people i need matter

and the dreams always matter

so nothing else would matter.

Streamers Over Empty Shadows

I’ve got a cupboard with cans of food, filtered water
And pictures of you and I’m not coming out
Until this is all over, and I’m looking through
The glass where the light bends at the cracks…

~*~

Maybe it just didn’t matter

That our house was a table emptier

In an absence of good food and spilled water

And gregarious pictures and laughter

Maybe it didn’t matter anymore

That we ceased attempting to keep score

And that everyday brings me dread

For the time it all comes to a head

Maybe we’re just falling out

The way ancient things always do somehow

The history corroded and rusted

And I shot the bullet that left it dead

Maybe we’re all just too busy

Doing what’s important, picking a priority

No time for relaxing and companions

Instead eating out time and cramming lessons

Maybe I’m just being selfish

And a melodramatic conniving bitch

But I needed alleviation, yet no one showed

Until I left my whiskey out in the cold

Maybe things are simply changing

Just like how they should be carrying

Life is just seconds from detonating again

Now we don’t say if, but we say when

Maybe it doesn’t fucking matter anymore

That this little ritual of ours has become a bore

Maybe you stopped to care, but it’s sad to say

When I needed it the most, no one arrived to stay.

~*~

And I’m screaming at the top of my lungs pretending
The echoes belong to someone, someone I used to know
And we become silhouettes when our bodies finally go…

on recitation #2

oh, but darling please

it’s not a matter

of else and eloquence,

it’s a matter of

nerves and nervousness.

doubtful bard

i write far

too much

but somehow

it’s still just

never enough.