Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“But I wanted more, and more, and before I knew it, you had the gun to my head, and I was begging for you to pull the trigger.”

Her breath circles on my tongue

Before falling into my blood,

And the chemistry is the same

As alcohol to flame.

She is bound to burn me down

To nothing more than desires

That I am ill equipped to resist…

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“My breath is being forced down my esophagus and into my stomach, where it’s keeping my bubbling guts company as I choke on another dozen pills.”

I had the rights words.

Sweetling, they were here,

Careful carved into

The chalky remains

Of my soiled soul.

The perfect combination,

Equal parts desire and guilt,

Cloaked in the allure

Of a better tomorrow.

If you had waited,

Just through today,

I swear I had it all.

 

If you ever find yourself

In my tomorrow,

I know my words

Will still be there.

So please, listen,

Because I know,

Once you hear them,

You’ll know it too;

That these words for you

Would have been

The right words

To make you stay.

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics

If this was nothing more than destiny, that would be great. Then I wouldn’t have to blame it all on me.. (part 1 of 5)

I want destiny to taste

The last sliver of air

Netted in my lungs.

It’s Nitrogen imbued

With a wink of vinegar,

And a gasp of sour carbon,

Made all the more potent

By a throat varnished

In wood turpentine.

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, Uncategorized

It’s not that I dislike silence, but sometimes I wish I still had the strength left to scream.

Sound is so light, breathing like a morning cast in fog

Hold your breath now and wait for the fall

All along the sweet castaway, sweet darling of mine

Watched ever so quiet in the back of my mind

 

Sound is so soft, breathing like a mouse in the walls

Hold your breath now and wait for the fall

All along, these lights that surround me

Are they lights to guide the way or lights to set me free?

 

Sound is so bare, breathing like a broken clock

Hold your breath now and slowly turn the lock

All along these sweets that I desired

They taste so bitter, bitter pills from bitter liars

 

Sound is now gone, breathing alone in this empty room

Hold your breath now; it will all be over soon

All along, you longed for that sweet embrace

Silence wraps its arms around you and begins to take you away

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Uncategorized

Ohio has a way of beating a person down, with winds that only roar during those times when I need the world to hear me scream.

I no longer get cold in the winter. That is to say I no longer care if I get cold. Of course I am affected by the wind as it hurts my face; I am blinded by the snow that covers my hair and shoulders, tripped by the ice under my feet, covering the streets, invading my fingertips as it travels up arm, shooting across my spine, burrowing into my chest, giving birth to one cold breath after another. I’m heaving and choking on the cold air that bites at my teeth and clings to even a dead soul like mine. Yes, I feel this winter, a ballad of walking death, beautiful in it’s whites and winds, bitter and forever in its icy glare, it’s frozen grasp over all it touches.