heart felt blunt words
The world is a beautiful place,
Yet it seems most of the world forgets.
Self absorbed and so ordinary it hurts,
They are denying the ugly and their only edge.
Force beautiful sunsets upon us,
Looking up, blinded by the brightness.
Creating beautiful lyrical poems,
Rhyming and making you shed a tear.
But I am always looking down,
Call me Valjean.
Textures, dirt, scratches, rust, decay, death
Thats the real beauty.
Never look up,
You just might lose the power to see the beauty beneath you.
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
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
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 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.
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.
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.
You are eating a Starbucks cake-pop,
And I hate you.
Bleach blonde dipped ends,
Halter top.
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
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 