album after album
the empties pile higher
than the hopes inside
we chain smoke watching
a diamond crushed beer can glisten
when the sun sets at the right angle it
shimmers on the porch like
alcoholism
Author: Oshan
A writer, an artist, creator, designer, can't stop making things.
7 Seconds or Less
We live in a generation bombarded by images, videos, and text
We hate the wordy
We despise the complex
Short, instant, and engrossing
Is that too much to ask?
Possibly
Boat Shoes
No socks and
boat Shoes
In the depth of winter
A man in the city and
not a nautical outing in sight
Like a sailor
never destined to sail
Like a Car salesman
never to sell
Don’t let your shoe choice limit you
Lividity
Paradise
Paradise is subjective
An island retreat,
Or a warm embrace,
To a quiet room.
Or the sound of you enemies blood hitting the floor…
While the sirens flicker,
Red,
Blue,
Red,
Blue.
Sad Hand Job
You remind me of a sad hand job.
Not quite what I wanted,
Nor what I signed up for.
You hurt a bit.
And I know I could do better myself.
Haze
A mist has settled over the city,
Clouding the tops of buildings.
Making the unnatural height of the glassy beasts a little more natural.
Just for a second,
It can be seen through the mist,
Just how glassy we all are.
A pocket full of change.
Yet we grant no change.
Hazy morals on a misty day.
Halter-Pop
You are eating a Starbucks cake-pop,
And I hate you.
Bleach blonde dipped ends,
Halter top.
Regency
Faded
She hands me
The peers,
A dragon.
Bent time,
Feeling the pulse of the crowd.
The heat of the skid fire,
The cracks of the fire crackers,
Scared I hold him.
His sweater thick and warm
My tears hot and strong.
She sits,
The queen of the party.
In the trucks fog lights
Illuminated,
Her king not too far
Rolling joints for the townspeople.
A dragon.
Her grace is in the beanie slouching off her head,
Her beauty is in her combat boots,
Her rein will be long and prosperous
Over the smoke infested nation.
Empirical Inchworm
Inching by I sit beside a nauseous narcissist
Waving through the air
Reaching for a branch that does not exist
Hues of green
I can see the sweat beading on his forehead
He vomited all down the trail
As I held the measuring tape
Empirical Inch worm
Bus Rides
Everlasting
I just want to be high
I just want to bleed
I just want to be intoxicated
Gather myself up after
Charming
Fuck this tea drinking
Cat petting
Romantic seeking
Bullshit
As simple as it seems
It’s painfully unreal
Raw
Anxiety filled voices
The need to impress
I want to hurt
Because it is simpler
Hypocrite
I feel as ironic as my moody poems
If they are even that
They are more like selfish rants
And I’m sorry
But fuck
What else am I suppose to do ?
Starrfishing 