Lefthandside

I wanted to obtain a one dollar and eight cent notebook from the Mexican store down the street all day, just to be able to write this down when I had obviously something holding me back from speaking verbally all of the emotions, thoughts and still more meaningless words that everyone was hating me for feeling. It’s not my fault, I’ve just been very detrimentally deprived of some broad and Universal thing that almost everyone could accept, or at the least bring themselves to meet somewhere along the road of passionless compassion and another day you’ve left me alone and … Continue reading Lefthandside

“Littered Homes”

Hollowed back bones Empty, burning scattered homes Scoured cords in coordinates leading to shattered phones, red or blue wired landmines our ears had Once before so intimately owned Bath salt drones driving us mad to be alone for another incarnation In incantations conflicting the spaciously undisturbed inner peace A disgrace to you for the disgraced catacombs you pass by knowingly of Not having heard a partial sentence uttered let alone a name of The skid row wine, drunk and dim lit lighthouse tower walks with the Divine Lowly and high and still toeing the line lost and loveles, recklessly despised … Continue reading “Littered Homes”

“The Outlands”: Underprepared pt. II

There’s nothing out there but cold, blank stares icy meeting hands let melting, trembling, scared ‘how to use your voice’ when all is left, so withered; weird? so underprepared — ill, forgotten, fragile and feared? “How the hell do we get out o here?”, they asked so fucking sincerely when all is at yet another loss, you’d think this bitch knew pain yearly routinely, regularly — fixed on the moved When all has since called you to act That is all that you’ve failed to do where the fuck is this life taking you? And how certain were you this was … Continue reading “The Outlands”: Underprepared pt. II

Sunrise Voodoo

On days I’d rather kill you, than tell the motherfucking truth (sad as it may be) I have family in Egypt speaking prayers for me, meanwhile My family here disowns me, telling lies just to control me letting these motherfucking pigs roll me with warrants to stop the riots I seek to bleed out however desperately Bitch you don’t fucking own me, try and find me, FINE ME; God knows you still can’t see Just as much as I can’t sleep No peace in the East No war in the West Get fucked, you Pussies Signed, The Motherfucking Best Continue reading Sunrise Voodoo

This is.

When and where? Probably in the middle of fucking nowhere Not in this constant bliss and pain that leads me there but rather Somewhere with you, whoever you are I probably have no clue, and at this point don’t care With little to no recollection of, The fires burning out in my heart To which you’ve decidedly chosen I know next to nothing of How depleting, in dim-lit shades were the layers of your heart left shattered That I couldnt fully face when all was left so unspoken and, yet, true When my whole fucking life had led me to … Continue reading This is.

Motherfucking.

Distance in a stance I’d rather choose to repeat than lose out on anymore motherfucking sleep. I can’t seem to write it out, but I have reason to let you know and I have far more reason to doubt that all we had once hoped for is seemingly playing out as a little less than the love we had once expressed. It was obvious to be a forgotten thing, in lives far too dismantled to simply be, one, with all we’d come to love; as emptiness provoked the last few remnants of. And I remained further absent from the cause. … Continue reading Motherfucking.

Do Nothing, Bitch.

In verses, visions and vacant spells I’ll find you alongside the nearest river wishing me well Stumbling past lonely wishing wells, probably Some sort of gateway to Hell Where my thoughts were but coins dropped in one after the other Never looked upon so much as something that could get better In bitterness that so badly weathers, I’m never going to let you down But you might not ever let me heal It’s one thing to lie, but I’d rather get real With our lives growing less elated, further from hope and far too jaded I’m finding it easy to … Continue reading Do Nothing, Bitch.