Pining

I miss driving fast

The long summer days have collapsed

We would get high on the ski mountain

Asking Jim to drive again

 

I miss my piece of shit car

That beautiful purple interior

The time spent in the back seats

Steamed windows

Dripping streaks

 

I miss my old friends

Well maybe I just pretend

It was the second guessed perception

That lead to the end

 

But, those days are gone

Repeated and stressed like an old song

With all longing aside

The simple days of that youth are gone

 

Now we sit and drink warm beer

In constant financial fear

Crippling debt is just part of life

Fucking amazing, right?

 

19th birthdays full of pink

Dumping vodka in my rented sink

Looking like trash

With a group of friends to match

 

These days will eventually be gone

After they become repetitive like that old song

Longing aside

Every single shining youthful moment will soon die

Drywall

overthinking the wasp in the corner of the room

please do not say anything until someone screams

how many shoes have you seen on the side walk?

long read stories about why they are there

we all have feelings we cannot explain

maybe someone understands the drywall dust/ice cream sandwich/newly renovated basement feeling?

sitting in the long grass with your favourite pair of blue eyes?

consistent confusion

not courage

 

 

Rust and Decay

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.

 

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.