Tag Archives: minute

A Melancholy Walk Down The District

Where do I go to find myself in this downtown dream?

Skyscrapers high-rise, everything is more than it seems

A mile in a million, caught in viscid lacklustre emotions

Upon seeing impressionable lights under glacial decisions

.

Horizon pale grey, though the night grows dark and deeper

Tuscan stars and effervescent skylines that glimmer and glower

Timeless destinations, that appeal for gloomy eyes to forget

But the macabre thoughts disturb again like a brimstone parapet

.

Where do I go to lose myself in this downtown desecration?

Skyscrapers down-low, shallow lipstick and coat-check desperation

A mile in a minute, caught in viscous webs of endless nowhere

That no fading light can ever permeate, only vague deliria is left spare.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Broadcasting Live From The Seatbelt

Come one, come all, you’re just in time
To witness my first breakdown
‘Cause there’s a mile gone
For every minute passed
When I’m stuck in this town…

~*~

For every minute I count at the tip of my jaded palm

Makes me believe that I can actually give a damn

Third time’s the charm, but the thirtieth’s just tiring

I’ll save my breath for the holidays I won’t be taking

.

Change the radio station when nothing good’s ever on

Witness as I crash my car high on the beat of a breakdown

Just to make the news, just ‘cause I’m fucking bored

At least something exciting happened in this deadbeat town

.

But I don’t need a doctor, and I don’t need more pills

I’m not crazy, just feeling sorry that I don’t know what to feel

Passed out from the traffic fumes, stuck in my head for hours

Wishing I had better hair, wishing I had superpowers

.

And I’m not coming clean, what else is the reason now?

Dreams don’t come for free, especially not in this late hour

My stereo’s playing the greatest hits, I’m so sick of hearing it

I’d drink beer and smoke a drag, but I don’t know when to quit

.

For every second and mile that I waste, wasted off these foolish promises

Like my ragged backseat holster and stained carpet, my existence is a mess

And this just in, the latest breaking news is that I’m already fucking breaking

But I’ll step on the brakes until it stops, until I don’t know which road I’m taking.

~*~

So go on and lock me up, you better throw away that key
Before I find out where you broadcast from
Because your playlist is killing me
I’ll change that station, light it up like the 4th of July
It’s me, I’m caller fifteen, time to play my last request…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

sticks and stones

oh, if only

those sharp

and acidic

words can

physically

hurt or inflict

then i would

have been

injured long

ago, and you

wouldn’t live

to see a minute.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry