I know what love is
I see it when it peeks behind the eyes of a stranger
A small glint
Like something shiny
And I, magpie that I am,
Head straight towards that sparkle
In the hope that it might be
And so far,
I have collected
Two empty gum wrappers
Some broken glass
A toy mirror
And 84 cents worth of change
But I can't help still believing
That the love I find one day
Will be the everything I've been seeking
And I am unwilling
Tuesday, October 3, 2017
I know what love is
Sunday, October 1, 2017
Wednesday, September 27, 2017
I'm attempting to exercise you from me but my will is out of shape
But keeping the dream of you near to me isn't really worth the weight
My thick thighs from your fat lies
Isn't really all that great
So I'm loosing these inhibitions and I'm stepping out on faith
Stepping out on the faith that I'm worthy
Worthy of someone who understands me, not just tolerates me, someone who celebrates my cerebellum and not just my steam
Someone who eager to embrace my feelings not just my firmament, a man of some permanence
Someone who loves the whole of me the way I love everything else
And someone who's words are true and clean and better for my health
Words ears could eagerly consume and digest, organic and simple, not a pain in my chest
I'm attempting to exercise you from me love, I walk away, no look backs
And for as long as it takes I will shake off these weighs of your fat lies holding me back
Tuesday, September 26, 2017
Is entertaining at best
But I do beg your pardon
That I don't heed your requests
To bow down my boughs
At a saplings request
Because I am a very old tree.
A tree whose leaves provide books with their page
Friday, September 22, 2017
You smell like rotten dreams, festering in a corner somewhere
Dirty little truths and half eaten lies that have never seen the light of day.
You smell like regret, boisterous and vile, like degrading expectations molding over from the wetness of your tears
You wreak of solitude
You try to mask it over with an air of superiority
Hoping no one notices the foul stench emanating from your soul.
You smell of death, the death of a happiness
You cling on to its bones in the hopes it might reanimate again.
Throw out all that garbage from the byways of your mind, those pretty catalogs of what it was supposed to be like.
Break free. Stop being an emotional hoarder. Because until you do, everything you do, will continue
To cause you
Monday, August 28, 2017
I am a thinker.
I am constantly brainstorming.
Perhaps that's why
Grey hairs form
Like lighting across my brow.
It leads one to believe
That getting older
And more conscience of decisions
And the energies around
Are signs of
In(ner) lighting meant to manifest in actions and verbs.