It’s already past midnight?
I guess I’ll sleep when I sleep,
Rest’s not that important.
Instead, I’ll keep cadence
Reminiscing on cadence,
Waiting for Taps.
I crumple the sheets, a failure contemplating:
What is it that makes a man?
What struggle overcome?
What prize attained?
I don’t know, dude.
I can’t honestly say I have a clue.
What am I even striving for?
Anyway, it’s over now,
And I’ve gotta move on.
Can’t say it’ll be easy, though.
Is there a rhyme to this?
Falling into Theta
With the taste of Xanax in my throat?
I just need another smoke.
I don’t know what I want anymore,
I barely remember my name some days.
Still I’ll stress over the small things.
I’ll still worry about the evanescent manner of your affection,
The calories in my dinner,
The increased rate of my suicidal ideations.
Shit, did I just miss my exit?
Someday I’ll reach the shore,
Maybe drown myself in the ocean,
And embrace the cold embrace of the winter tide.
But that’s thinking too far down the road,
Right now, I’ve just got to get home
Where there’s still scotch in the bottle.
With blood blued on my sweater
And infection taking root in my burn,
I deny my own desire.
Self-worth is overstated, overrated.
Rhyme is a poor man’s crime,
And I want you.
Arrogant in thought.
I didn’t expect this to be easy,
And you are worth working for,
Worth creating my own world and path.
Still, they ask what my story will be.
They wonder what I’ll achieve
Through an illuminated life.
A better question is,
What is the sound of shit hitting the fan?
I deserve nothing,
Have earned little,
And the future remains hidden.
I catch your glances,
Your eyes meeting mine
And shooting away again.
I see you.
Of course,
I see them during stares of my own.
Who could take their eyes off you?
Not me, not now.
But you must forgive me,
This is a dream of a path never taken.
I must beg pardon,
This is a memory I don’t know.
But I do know now,
And that my happiness in you
Is (wistfully) reciprocated.
Overpowered by the Lips,
I lie here breathing,
staring at the ceiling,
Wishing the fan was pointed in my direction.
Overpowered by her lips,
I lie here thinking, romanticizing
Wishing she was struggling with me for the sheets.
How could she love me, though?
I’m broke on a broken computer,
And my room is a mess.
I dribbled piss on my boxers.
Embracing the safety of a bedspread tent
I sink further into the bed,
Knowing if I want change, I must effect change.
But it can wait, just a bit longer.
Let’s just lie here, only for a bit longer.
I wish I could wiggle my arms
under this boundless sky.
I’m lost in transcendent drunkenness,
a fool with a mind.
Synapses firing with alcoholic fervor,
I lie motionless.
The cigarette ashes on my cheek
As I puff with my eyes closed,
But not for too long.
I must stop the dark from spinning.
Wandering and wondering in wanderlust,
I hope we last forever.
I wish you were here now.
But C’est la Vie!
I’ll make do,
and I’ll make do
in accompanied solitude soon.
I see double as autocorrect corrects.
I close my eyes as the sky shuffles.
I fade to black, wondering what tonight will hold.
My existence offending,
With every breath of smoke
Which is taken alone,
I march forward.
Fire erupts from the candles at the wake.
A man lies waste deep
Not ready to be interred.
Yet the birds still sing
O’er a body cut down
By Smith & Wesson’s
Newest thresher.
A miracle occurred today,
He has proven something,
If only for himself.
He has become an Ozymandias,
A king of the dead to be forgotten.
The works of his dying hands
Mattered only to his fleeing soul.
The triumphs of loves won
And the woes of years of defeat,
Are but memories forgotten.
Some things are better left
Understated.
This is a lesson that I must
Teach to myself.
Implication!
That’s the key word!
The scariest monster hides in the dark,
The most beautiful confession D’amour
Lies between the lines.
Anyone worth impressing
Has an imagination
That needs stimulated,
Not force fed.
I want you in the fall,
When the sun grows cold
And the leaves turn brown.
When the Pennsylvania wind bites,
And those with money go to warmer climes,
That’s when I’d die to hold you.
Imagining you in a sweatshirt,
Hand in hand with me,
Walking down a country town Main Street.
We’ll forget the harshness of the season change,
The fear of winter to come,
In one another’s embrace
An ode to a Grecian urn?
No.
An ode to this wait,
Here, now.
This anticipation of
Eyeballing your lips,
Waiting for the first kiss.
It will only come once.
Still I cross my toes
That it will come soon.
There’s a balance to be maintained,
Between comfort
And taking you for granted.
I always want to remember how I feel now.
A tinge of fear,
A pinch of excitement,
And a quixotic look at the future.
Complacency can take a back seat,
Though.
Let me never be secure.
Allow me to raise this glass to you,
And to growth
Within one another.
Dcid Corvid 