May 2013
9 posts
The worst game ever played
I am restlessly pulling at my last beer
And I blame it on the other drugs.
So I’m playing a poor, young
white man’s tug of war
Between his vices.
And sleep is sitting court side
Without a voice, palm to face
And losing any bet she’d put her money on.
I’d place my hand on her shoulder, if I could
“Better luck next time, my dear.”
But there’s no...
Jesus
Jesus is a candle that sits on my book shelf.
I bought him for a dollar.
I’m not sure he would approve
After all, the dude’s been known to lose his shit in
Marketplaces.
I’d forgive him for it, though
These are the things you learn
From a wick
And some wax.
3 tags
There’s an angel asleep in bed
And she clutches your hand to her breast,
Like it might be the last one
she wants to feel before she drifts away
Outside of the bathroom window the birds are chirping
Talking a call and response
A cigarette’s smoke dancing in and out of the screen
And one more beer won’t hurt(?)
As the traffic plays the softer sounds
To the trains that...
1 tag
April 2013
38 posts
A thousand birds pouring their voices
Across the city, as the light gathers itself up
Into the start of a new day
The proudest moments of a voice that shines
Before exhaust sets itself
Into another day.
5 tags
An uncertainty
I’m not sure when it is
Ok for me to ask to steal your kiss.
3 nights now, I’ve asked you for it
And the drink, has helped to loosen our already
Loosened lips
Should I wait and when?
Is it right to us,
(I conflict, it always should be!)
To make that magnificent error in judgement?
(And how do you judge a thing,
Settled in such a long awaited feeling?)
When does it become...
1 tag
3 tags
3 tags
How romantic I seem to be,
Self-satisfied, Sitting barside,
Milking a beer,
reading another man’s poetry
Sleeves rolled up at the seams
The wave in my hair, a sideways smile to myself
And a chuckle at how clever my life looks
With the sun dipping slow down the sky
And in all reality, I am staring at my bartender’s ass
And thinking about how dirty
my empty bed is.
2 tags
mychesterfieldking:
It is strange to me
That the option of
delete sits
Quite daintily above
My return key
And I’m still not quite sure
Which speaks more to me.
You must feel yourself
a lucky girl
To have been born with eyes like that,
Little bright ones that catch a shine in
Any light, and even on occasions
In the dark
I wonder, when left alone too long
Do you fall into them yourself,
And imagine why it is so easy
To pull the world from your pocket?
3 tags
March 2013
36 posts
