Tag: sid corvid

A Porcelain Doll

by sidcorvid

A porcelain doll,
So soft in complexion.
In her confidence
I place my greatest failings.

She doesn’t know
That she is my refuge.

I prefer to listen, though,
To the silence of her
Trials and tribulations.
A peace is found here.

How could a mere man
Craft such a divinity?

Why would I place such faith
In a relic of what should have been?
How can her dark eyes
Force such a devotion?

I ask without rhetoric.
I have found an answer.

Such art must be cherished.

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Is there a rhyme to this?

by sidcorvid

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.

Overpowered

by sidcorvid

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.

It’s been a rough week or two…

by sidcorvid

Classical references expound upon
My broken lines
Of law enforcement evasion,
And self-actualization.

Shadows shift
In this complex reality
Of the moment.

I fear for continuity,
Long for non-sequitur.
Acting as a Ratatoskr,
Shifty eyes and all.

But a fire is burning behind
These icy eyes,
Tended by blind rage.

Lord, allow me to grow to be
Your Azazel.
Father, let me die
An honored Death

 

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Ooooo, this one was emotional

by sidcorvid

What about the fetters that bind
When your bonds are shattered?

The freedom of mind, supposed,
While accepting your iPhone is dying.
Am I me or am I just another?
Claiming no compromise
But bargain shopping ideas.

What happened to me?
Am I comfortable?

Father, forgive me.

I abandoned you,
Like I do everything.

Robert Frost would be disappointed,
Watching as I
Take the load more taken.

There’s a comfort in solitude,
Though. A safety
Though the mind runs wild.
A freedom to wiggle,
Without being called shifty.

I’ll set someday,
Become solid to be
Tramped down upon.

 

Making Buddy headbang to Nicki

by sidcorvid

Whiskey makes my bones shake,
And I’m having trouble typing.
‘Motivational’ wubs inspire poetry,
To be called great by idiots.

On this night,
I feel the dead gods in my blood,
Coursing like my .5% BAC.

There is no past,
On this night there is no compromise,
One more shot to remember the future.
A violence churns as I party alone.
A writer writes, infuriated by his subordinates.

He has no Medevac waiting for him,
Calling ‘Suppressing Fire!’ has no effect,
Except a stagger and a disorderly conduct.
Alone, this booze-fueled warrior, I, will fall.

Imagine the hangover?

I am what happens

by sidcorvid

I am what happens.
Whatever I’ve become,
And where I go, transforming,
I am a product.

Imperialistic in breathing,
I expect to end as all the greats do,
Invaded, perverted and in a puddle of vomit.

I am the Holy Roman Empire,
Something to fear, my very existence.
With existential crises crashing,
I can be… unpredictable.
A Caligula.

Angry, I will sleep.
Accosted, I will sleep.
Ashamed, I will sleep,

And maybe when I wake,
It’ll be worth it.

Stop Hitting Yourself

by sidcorvid

“Stop hitting yourself,” the angel says,

“You look like a fool, fighting me.”

 

Knowing it is right, I step back,

Maintaining my defense,

“What would you have me do?

 

“Would you have me accept?

Give up fear and bear this load?

You ask too much,

And bring too little to this fight.”

 

Speaking to air, I think of relief.

To accept this darkness,

Would I breathe easy again?

 

I lessen my defense, asking,

“This path I am to walk,

Am I to walk it alone?

Or will another share my lust?”

 

It smiles, sweeping its six wings forward,

Blessing my sweating face with a breeze,

Speaking, “What good is a passion without a companion?

To what end will that lead? Perversion.

 

“Yes, you have this to bear,

But no man should bear this alone.

I don’t intend for you to be an exception.

 

“What a wonderful night to have a curse, child.

Quit looking the fool, wipe the dirt off your face

And let us get started.”

 

I holster my weapons, relieving reality,

As I face future with a fire in my heart,

Knowing I will not be alone.

Rest in Peace little fellow

by sidcorvid

I saw the sadness in his eyes, the sorrow of a winter that simply would not end. In the seconds I knew him, I hadn’t the time to learn his trials, his tribulations. I did, in an odd way, empathize though.

Maybe he had a family, a child screaming for his father. Maybe his family had not survived the brutality of suburban life during a harsh Pennsylvanian winter. Either way, I guess it didn’t matter at that point.

He was busy praying to his God or Gods, his ancestors or the spirits of his dead children. Even if I had the chance to ask him what drove him up there, I don’t think he would have answered. This fellow was far gone, and all I could do was speed up and hope he held off on his final leap of faith. Teetering above Route 134, he worked up the courage to end the cruelty of the life he had been born into.

In one bound, I realized I should have braked. In half a second, those deep, beady eyes of his were splattered across the hood of my mother’s van. In a breath, his misery was brought to an end by a Honda Odyssey.

I channeled Kurtz as this dear creature was cleared off by my windshield wipers, what horror! What would they say about him? That he was kind or wise? That he had plans? No, fuck that. Squirrels don’t leave notes, you idiot…