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

“It feels like I’m thinning out my soul, turning once sturdy cider bark into bargain bin brown paper bags.”

You love me.

But your love,

It’s the same love

As the January Sun;

An abbreviated afternoon

Punctured with pockets

Of cumulonimbus skies.

Your kisses breed frostbite,

Coating every syllable

In a gelid timber.


But I found something,

Even if you are

Just passing through.

And it was enough

For me to latch onto,

Even if all I have ever held

Was merely a reflection;

I’ll reject reality

To keep living

In your light.

I exits to you

Only as dense air;

Slowing your time,

But you can’t, won’t stop.

All that remains

Are your refracted rays,

And the scatterings of

A cranberry glass heart.

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

“Etch these words into my skin so I may never forget; I steal my light as a paper moon, only glowing after sunset.”

He creeps into your mind

At the most inopportune times,

Stealing away precious brain cells

And holding in the CO2

That you’ve built up in your veins.


Whatever warmth you had

Seeps out through your open chest,

Replacing the justified anger

With docile tones

And heavy shakes.

You feel leaks, tiny pin pricks,

Along all the spots you kept secret,

The spots that he now owns.


Time erases nothing,

But diminishes

Everything.


His image hasn’t been there

To stroke your senses,

Yet a single glance

Betrays a tingle in your stomach,

And the world melts like chocolate

Left out in the afternoon Sun.


You want to run away,

But the sight of him is

As quick as summer lightning,

And his sound echoes

Like distant thunder,

And you’ve always been a fool

When it comes to storms.


“You will lose yourself in his winds and rain,

And you will claim a home inside that hurricane.

But that home will be nothing more than a dream,

A space where his violence will swallow your screams.”

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

“I wanted to hear something; not just words, but genuine heart. I wanted to be chased, but not if it meant forcing you to chase me.”

Beyond my understanding

The goodness I showed to you

Trying not to run

From common insecurities

If every breath felt the same

The sharp intake of oxygen to my brain

It’s all the same for you

I’m just the same to you

You didn’t need it; you didn’t need it

My heartbeat, soft as a whisper

Hold on, bright green eyes

Tell me your story again

Watch yourself fly, far far away

Flee your mistakes, flee from reality

What did I do to deserve this fire

O right, I did nothing

O right, to you I’m nothing

Nothing is sweeter, sweeter to my lips

Then your poison, three words from you..

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

“So although I might like it for one afternoon, I don’t want to live on the Moon…”

My lover, the crescent moon,

A lunar light who wanes

As my time passes,

But never fully fades.

I’ve carved my soul

To match your curves;

The sight of which

Heralds me to your evening.

Waiting through midnight

For a shift in the nebula,

I seek neither the secrets

Of the shaded sky,

Nor the calming whisper

Of a trillion stars;

I am fixated solely on your luster.

Perhaps the truth is that

I am more water than man,

As you can pull me

Away from my shores,

Knowing I’ll always rush back

When you call.

Ah, my crescent moon,

The loveliest of thieves,

Snaring your shine from the Sun,

And fashioning a heart

From this foolish man

Made from the Sea.

I am yours.

By my very nature

I can never deny you,

Not a single drop.

My crescent Moon,

There will never come to pass

A moment in this life

Where I could ever

Tell you no.

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

“You accepted my love so easily, but in the end, when it mattered most, I was a burden, so you couldn’t be bothered with me.”

Could anybody please explain to me where it was I fucked up? I’ve burned through every memory, but it wasn’t enough to smoke out the inciting incident. I went from a warm soul to a body consumed by wildfire, and I can’t be sure why I set myself on fire to begin with. Everything was perfect, right?

We had each other.

We had love.

What else could I give you?

Why wasn’t I good enough?

You’re gone, but every time the truth comes to the front of my mind, I shove it down, down, all the way down, right through the ground beneath me. When I started, the truth barely reached the back of my throat. 6 years later, and there isn’t an ounce of me that doesn’t hide the truth. Every footstep creates an echo of an echo, so it’s impossible to tell where I started from, and I’ll never reach the end…

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

“In my heart, time stands still. Nothing changes, nothing grows… no matter how deep I go, I can’t cut myself free from you…”

This is how our world ends,

In that space between a heartbeat

And where our worst thoughts

Are lost into open air.

Isn’t it strange how acute

A simple sound can be?

How an uneven pitch can cut

The same as any knife?

Lines we set in sturdy stone

Are whittled down into dust,

Nothing more than a granite coat

Sprinkled onto cotton twine.

Faced with your whetted tongue,

You flay every boundary and beyond.

Our dreams are red confetti,

Quickly drying into tinder,

And it’s with the bitter taste

Of irony at its best

That we ignite our pyre

With the same spark

We once believed

Was love.

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

Come join me on Facebook!!

I have made the decision to finally create a Facebook page to help spread my blog! I currently have “0” likes, and I don’t see that really changing beyond a few people. Still, I think it’s a space where better conversation can occur (I read every comment I get, but I’m not the best at always responding!)

If everyone could do me a favor and please share my blog and Facebook page with your family, friends, or strangers who look like they’d enjoy a trip through my head, I will be forever grateful! And while you’re at it, please also follow me on Twitter!

http://www.facebook.com/thatlittlelightfromyourlampshade

Twitter – taylorfinn0810