Swamp/Bat
Your writing is beautiful. There's not much else to it. Just keep doing what you do.
Thank you! I’m always writing just pieces then I slowly blend them together into one idea.
Rooftop
I am no one, To this very same. But when I let you in it seems my world starts to spin again.
High above the filth for the stench can only reach so far. For the minutes in time we’re happy not knowing who we are.
Forever and waiting, for you to talk to me. Degrating my being is not how its supposed to be, to feel. Can’t nourish or grow.
The darkness inside be who I need now.
Parts.
Chest expand, another deep breath for the world at hand. At large, no charge for the satisfying sleep.
Stomach concave, mind in the gutter, one foot in the grave. Wake for the dead to wake for the day.
And bleed, just let it bleed. Just bleed, bleed for me.
Bleed down from your fingers to your wrist. Bleed down from your eyelids to your lips.
Eye fading, not to burn as blanketing, deSINigrating. The other unique virus weak.
Back break, as weight becomes drive to spread thin. Never to see, always to be my flea.
And bleed. Just let it bleed. Bleed down from your eyelids to your lips. Bleed down from your fingers to your wrists.
Bleed…just bleed for me.
Story
“Do you ever look in the mirror and think you’re crazy?” He said with a grin laced with tabacco and whiskey, expelling smoke.
My eyes sticking together from the eyeliner from last night mixing with the sweat currently pooling on my forehead…
And he cuts off my thought, “Less is more sometimes.” He said to the slowly fading music, dwindling even behind his own ears.
And the glass shatters, always to break. End to no ones fault, fate.
“Everything is nothing.” I expected him to say, in his own unique way. Never to bleed a note, never over silenced and hard to provoke.
My muffled laugh leads me to taste the metallic polyurathane, never to shake my fear and plunging towards my fate, my chance and my escape.
“I loved you.” I hear as my pulse seems to stop, my adrenaline drop. It echoes deep in my ear, examining feelings while death looms near, watching us flail into the abyss.
“Why are you doing this?” I tried to scream out, under the muffle, under the tape. As the car turned off the road.
Never to bleed that note. Note of screams, dreams and suicide.
I force my eyes to close, focus on nothing but the beat of my heart. Counting the sins of my past, weighing the good to make this easy, make this fast…
And the glass shatters, always to break. Knowingly going towards the ending. Unforgiving fate.
No
Blowing out my problems like smoke towards the stained glass.
The stains of our saviors, reliving their defining glory over and over again for the on lookers.
The neigh-sayers. The slayers. The sinners.
The beat of the streets, like that which lies under the boards.
Trying to escape in a scream but nowhere for it to go.
Nowhere for the scene for that of the dreaming.
Peering above and below for an answer to questions that none of us know.
Look straight ahead, For the trail of the dead Maybe our only salvation.
Eye
Objects in the mirror, Not as calm as they appear, Far off in the distance, Crystal clear shell with no new tale to tell.
Ravishing from the outside, Pious rots the in. In depth retrospection.
Creating, suffocating. The everyday scratch.
Hatred pulsating, The monkey on the back.
Objects in the mirror, Don’t fear.
Deni.
Freebasing on reflections, The time honored past of clawing at your imperfections. Reacting based on class.
We have another artist, We have another star, We have a new hope, We have another scar…
On the face of the planet, On the face of the dim. Of the people inside, The feelings within.
And I, Would rather rip out these eyes, Then ever watch you go blind.
