Fistfuls of my clay,Puddling into mountains of disuse,While my exasperation springs forthWintry gusts of air. I wonder what they will say,The denizens of this place,Of their absentee landlord?
Tag: Poetry
Third Eye
I'm a tightly-wound knot of fear,Silently growing,Ever the smaller,Yet ever the denser,Like a cancer that grows inward,A gleaming pearl of horror,Lodged deep withinThe center of my mind.
As long as it takes
My fingers curl and spasm,Unable to stitch together these fragments,My imagination, my memories,Into a single breath of time,So I'll wait,Until the pain passes,As long as it takes.
Listen to my Music
Loosely I lift memories,My mind's little music,From lilting melodic lullabies,To the morbid lucidities,of mindless maladies,Murmuring lifelessly,Luring madness lightly,Murdering light likely,Lyrical membrane lo -Until I cannot recall how it goes.
Such cold roots
I buried myself in verdant leaves,Which grew damp in crimson dreams,And with the taste of winter on the breeze,I find comfort in these faint memories,Lost now in deep roots of ancient ash trees.
Some Joy
There are some joys, still,Like dyed leaves drifting on wind,And a cat purring.
Vindictive
I hope she's happy,In whatever hell she's in,Damnably cozy. One day he'll recall,That I went to hell and back,While he rots in place.
Friends
A friend in need is,Still a friend indeed,And I need a friend.
yours, mine
Finger-tracing names,On the small of your arched back,Our phantom tattoo.
my pen’s ink
My pen's ink runs dry,A sentence left unfinished,But that is fine too.
Discarded Recollections 