Tag Archives: sense

Mood Rings

There’s a reason why I like the pink in your mood

My words hit the ground, but you catch them so we’re good

If time’s running out for me, I’ll be sure to take it slow

I may be high on conflict but on your sights I’m low

.

The amount of space between my smile and eyes are closing in

But frustration and disappearing sense is not a problem

Because if you laugh, then I laugh, and if you cry, then I die

The city’s a slow waltz into the colourful cocktails we have to try

.

I may speak my mind but I talk with my heart

And it only takes one skipping beat to know where to start

I keep falling for everything that wants nothing to do with me

But I’ll keep trying until the blondes stop being pretty

.

I change so quickly, I don’t even know what to think

And your face goes from soft violet to vivid blush like a 90’s trick

I’m the rain that you chase, you’re the lone cloud in May

Our weather’s too erratic and unstable, but I adore it anyway

.

So don’t get me wrong, your fingers may be pointing

But I’ll take them in my hand and yell bang, the bullet’s flying

You’re troubled by the clothes you wear, confused looks good on you

It accentuates the glow in your halo, but you never had a clue

.

I’m asking all the wrong questions, but you still answer them right

And I’m hoping to the moon that you’ll answer the most important one tonight

I’m dirty red, you’re canary yellow, let’s collide together and be orange fire

A hurricane’s sleeping in my bedroom, can I stay over? We can dream until we’re tired.

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Does The City Sleep If Everyone’s Awake?

Drop every pretense, drown every sense you own
For the girl that you love, girl you loathe
Insistent pretext, so what does that make god?
To the girl that you love, girl you loathe…

~*~

Follow home the darkness in the midst of distorted lies

A bellicose pretence that overshadows the most jaded of eyes

Entering, surrendering the only control left to be held back

Indignant morose affability surreptitiously painted black

.

For the girl that you love left her heart in the shadows

She’s keeping it there locked tight and burning the evidence

And the boy of your dreams has a nightmare in his head

He keeps a musket under his pillow for such a circumstance

.

Secrets dripping at the tip of their tongue, are you getting tired

Ain’t it so pretty, the way their drunken minds are wired?

The curtain’s coming down, but the burlesque act continues

And the naked audience and all the masked actors are in on the ruse

.

The flickering streetlamps may not last until the end of sunset

And you may have lost your empty wallet stumbling in a cabaret

Taking profound philosophies from barkeeps, pouring another drink

Don’t know if that sleaze three tables over winked or just blinked

.

Follow home the oncoming intrusion of light in the haze of inebriation

An avaricious pretence that promptly overpowers any realistic temptation

Surrendering the only control that wasn’t there to hold back in the first place

Coruscating affiliations underhandedly leaving hearts without a single trace.

~*~

The girl that you love, girl that you love
Girl that you love knows you don’t
Followed her, followed her
Followed her, followed her home…

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W i t h o u t · A · S h a r p e r · K n i f e

Honesty sold-out at face value, the price you pay for distance

The depth of your wounds can’t be measured by the doctors in the ambulance

Complicate my rising lungs and grip my falling chestnut hair

Sleep in, I won’t keep bleeding out dreams if I know you’re always right there

This battle is yours to expiate, with every star there is to count

As multitudinous as the silver glistening in your face, an ebony ink tantamount

You’re regressing back to the rejected days of golden senescence

I wouldn’t let go of the only part of my life that makes any semblance of a sense.

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upside

down

in every sense of the word

looking for a way

to distract my thoughts

against contrition

“i’m tired” i complain

as if i just wasn’t

already long used to it

left behind

by all the chatter

why am i still hoping?

“you fucked up

something again”

my mind screams at me

even though i know

i didn’t (did i?)

“i’m alone”

i mused dumbly

as if it wasn’t such

a daily norm

breaking blood

and draining bones

from its brewing storm

“the sun is murder”

melting away as the

heat and faceless crowd

further add to

this delirious stupor

“why am i still here?”

i want to go home

so i can seek death in peace

and be alone to feel

down

in every sense of the word.

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The Horticulturist

One by one the days fall beside us like yellow leaves
We have no conscience, oh, what we’re becoming
Month by month the rings on our tree trunks
Like old wise eyes grow wider
And winter lends them a dead disguise…

~*~

all the times

that my pretence

falls away to reveal

a dissecting evil

crashing against the

enamouring dopamine

of your crystal eyes

and whenever the bats

residing in my belfry

bite in rabid shreds

as i told you the reasons

why i don’t need the sun

to watch over my lies…

i didn’t know it hurt.

and even when your mouth

moved to speak of the

florid diamonds leaving your

bones with every suspended

breath i took, still i ignored

it, and culled the butterfly wings

you were only beginning to grow

crushing them for my own fool’s

grey stained glass interpretation.

i see my sorry mistake now

what an envious tongue i was

to impede and torture change

and wring them dry in deception

shivving the lunacy fringe deep

in my virulent, violent strain

perhaps the sense was never mine

to keep in mine caustic waste.

you merely wanted roses to

bloom in your pulsating thorax,

but my scissors never gave

you the chance to do so

and a different shade of scarlet

touched your skin that day.

but despite the endless famine

that haunts my soul, there’s

still thistles to be removed,

fertile soil to be revived, and

you handed me the trowel even

when i already lost sourly to you.

it’s another chance to repair all

the misfortune, to mitigate all the

repercussions, and to plant a

thornless blossom in this stygian

garden of choked weeds and demolition.

i won’t count my stars before

they paint the sky with yellow fire

but i can always count on the

misbegotten heart, sparing

another courtesy for the misguided.

no more plucking petals from

shivering deoxygenated lungs,

no matter how temptingly pretty

they may be to my twitchy fingers;

may the poisonous chemicals

no longer adhere to sprouting foliage

and murder them in cold blood,

may the flora in ingenue poetry not

be mendacious and remain untainted,

and pray let this withering, barren

desert of a garden be resplendently

efflorescent and verdant with life once more.

~*~

Now time, like an ocean, knows tide, like a notion
To toss about the house and lose inside the couch
Piles of our thoughts run miles in the dark
Just trying to get home, age by age
We rime with our seasons’ rehearsed routines
Still turning and returning…

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Sleep (is but a dream)

and the words in

my head whispered

(sleep, my dear

you’ll feel better)

but i couldn’t close

my eyes (no matter how

heavy they are)

falling into tonus as

quiet and abyssal

(as the thoughts that

weigh me down)

until my pen no longer

makes sense, fading

and smudging (into an

undecipherable madman’s

meandering laments)

and i wish, and so i wish

for a taste of the stars

(i wish on the sun for some

light to carry home) and

the soft words in my head

whisper (sleep, my dear

after all, there’s nothing better.)

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Butterfly Stitches

Give me a mouthful
And leave me nothing now
So chalk it up to the drone
Hack it out, wear it down
Where will you go when
You’re feeling blue?

~*~

i may never have the courage to do

the perseverance and hope that you pursue

like making snow castles out of icicles

and twisting lemonade out of bland honeydew

i cross my fingers for fibs not faith, it’s true

and my constellations are merely apologetic construes

but when i pretend there’s a horizon past the ceiling

i close my eyes and watch you taste the sun whilst tiptoeing

for you dance those rhythms that i’ve always faked

and fog the glass over your scribbled breathing mistakes

sew the thread past your heart to fix rivets and abate

shine your smile and sharpen your teeth when you awake

an incandescent perspective in this dismal existence

you may be hurt but you strive and fathom to make sense

dear, i may never have the courage to mend like you do

but your butterfly eyes encouraged me to try being brand new.

~*~

So save me and tell me how
it all got so doubtful
Leave me nothing now
Back on the old road
You’re wishing you’ll wind me down…

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not tonight

I found a place I can sit, a place where everyday light
Hits like the palm of your hand when you’re reaching
For something that’s balled up in the sky; that’s the way
I like to see myself, reaching for just one star at a time…

~*~

no, not tonight

i won’t be lamenting

for permanent rain

lights muffling sense

like cotton stuffing

in my rag-doll brain

.

no, not tonight

i won’t be grieving

for weathered hopes

symmetrical analogies

sketching out dreams

in my hoarse throat

.

no, not tonight

i won’t suffocate within

my claustrophobic no’s

i shall free myself from

my bedroom walls and

give myself room to grow.

~*~

I heard what was a song inside the earth
I put my ear to the ground and I sang with every
Word, see, I got lost in the sound—
I felt so safe inside the sight of the sun
I really think I’m home now, I really think that…

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A Trainwreck of Thoughts

My heart is pounding fast, I’m out of gas, it never lasts

Serotonin, oxytocin, we’re built for sins and late for mass

Chemical, mechanical faces, daily races underwater

Looking for god in cabarets and never searching for answers

Am I your jester? Will I entertain her? Is the sense in making sense

For a semblance of humanity, insanity, neuropathy

Endowed in chronic migraines and under castigated lies?

Uncertainties play like a chess piece, checkmate, check please

Asking the waiter for the receipt, but he never comes

It’s sympathetic…pathetic, isn’t it?

The empathy that curls and coils and churns in my esophagus

Screaming until my lungs are bruised, traumatic pain, dramatic recluse

In the throes of a black rose, petals falling in a final calling

For the tears in tantrum storming, where are we now?

Somehow…it never changes, the change rattling ranges in our pockets

Never mean a thing, but there’s a hole in your pants

And your nickels are clattering in your mind; never mind

The respect, don’t expect, crestfallen and swollen eyes, do it thrice

Without fail, without avail, without much ado about the gale

They say love was just a tale written in thorns and photographs,

Polaroids and tongues so crass, washing away the blood on our hands

Burying the body but never saying sorry, you’ll never bury the past!

Here I stand. My heart is pounding fast, I’m out of spare tires and gas

Waiting for the moment to last, waiting for the end to finish the past

Will this sempiternity ever end? Will the medication finally bend?

Will this recluse find the chaos amid the calm, will I take on such a task?

My heart slows down, and I’m waiting silently yet patiently for you to ask,

But you never show your cards, and again…I relapse.

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disembodied

every breath

feels like a

paralysing stab

in my lungs

my veins are

as tense and as

abraded as worn

ladder rungs

i strive to

maintain and

suffice such a

liquid composure

but instead i

submerge in the

depths of my

arrogant inures

as the dread draws

blood from my

starving idle heart

and the sense in

meaninglessness

starts to depart

i feel so splintered

i may as well be

anyone else but me

but when i exhale

in a shudder of pins

and needles, i find

myself still stuck

in this body.

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