Saturday 17 July 2010

Love Hurts

I ain't gonna tell you to give up.
I ain't gonna tell you to stop trying.
In fact I'll tell to wait.
To focus on what's you.
On what's the thing
that makes you tick.
But yea,
Lets get this fucking thing straight,
we all suffer
from this little illusion
from what is.
But believe me darling,
there really ain't nothing to go by.
Just yourself.
At first it seems sweet,
like blood softer than any water
flowing from your insides
and you'll tell me otherwise,
but it all takes work.
And sometimes you'll try your damnedest
to make it work
and then it explodes like knives
into your little sweet sockets of a brain.
And it suddenly don't make sense.
Here's sense for ya,
don't go looking,
and nine times outta ten,
he ain't worth the bother.
But then suddenly,
once you've marked your
talent,
he'll come running
like a desperate little rabbit,
and you're
on
top
of
the
fucking
world.
But honey,
it don't matter,
because
you have you.
And maybe someday
you can
share
it
with someone
you think
worth your
time
.

Saturday 10 July 2010

Shimmer

I feel your rock in my heart.
I balance it on my face,
the smooth surface
almost like the taste of your skin.
Once, you gave me this,
a very long time ago,
and now near my bedside
I keep it,
hoping it will help me grow.
A lot of pain
has paved my way,
and mostly everything is
understood,
but this stone
this rock,
this shimmering mineral,
I keep close to my heart,
because you knew
how much this stone
meant to me,
and here it sits,
on my shoulder,
a blessing,
and I hope and pray
it will suck all the pain away.

Ingrown Heart

She's ingrown.
Turned inside out,
flesh exposed,
burning in the sun.
She's ingrown,
falsely amused,
facing downward.
She's ingrown,
from all the pinches
dug deep in her flesh
bruising
beyond recognition.
She's ingrown,
loved so hard,
fought with brains
now left
to shield.
She's ingrown
before the mirror
flashing teeth.
I'm ingrown,
and
ready to set free
the love
I continue to
believe.

Thursday 1 July 2010

Hill in Force

Gotcha.
She couldn't let go.
Gotcha.
Twisted with concern.
Gotcha.
And then a spiral twist.
From that moment on
she sprang to fruition,
holding onto something
that was thought to become,
but never lasted.
A lonely spider
in a kiln
suffocating within her own web
then loose beyond any thrill.
I couldn't say
how hard the climb was.
But it takes a harder step to cross it,
and another to move it.
And although
my reflection seeks beauty and peace,
my heart despairs
along the everlasting
road that's
been trampled to bits.
Could I have said it then?
I did but with less grace
do I hold onto something
that's totally killing the core of everlasting sorrow,
between these walls I seek the courage
to not become the victim
of my own demise.
And why would anyone ever want me?
Not because I don't believe I deserve it,
but maybe because there is no one there.
A happy thought,
but nothing that could stick
inside my heart.
And yet I dream
and hopelessly fall for something
that's poor and
indisposed.
A book is comfort
and book is a dream
a poem is food
a poem is...
Bruised.