Writer's Block IV

A burning candle glows

A cartridge of a pen

Scars no longer permanent

Blank piece of paper.

Love is a weapon.

woo out my despair

a cancer-curing vitamin

a breath mint in the air.

She’s a clever poison

Running through my veins

Twisting through canals

erasing all my pain.

Shadow in the corner

aware of my existence

swallowing my heart.

content with writer’s block .

when all i hear is silence

how do i
loosen the grip
when all i
hear is you?

sometimes the plastic
bag over my
head tightens around
my neck. and
i cannot breathe.

i worry about all the wrong
things too much
at a time.
i need this to stop.
i need silence tonight.

i promised myself
i'd go out
with a bang;
with a fight.
and i don't
need anyone tightening
my grip. i
can do all
that on my
own.

twentytwo and influenced

My tone is "rude
cockyunpredictable
misunderstood"
whatelseisnew?
all i did was write an email;
all i did was ask a question.
isn't that what students do?
allidid
was be a kid.
twentytwo and influenced,
i'm not a fucking idiot.
those piece of shit certificates
give you credit-
more than you deserve.

Writer's Block III

Fooled by the white lying sheets too thin.
I know now the bright light was always
seeping through on the days
I thought i knew you.
As you sleep next to me,
I dream of a brighter truthful place
that helps me to live.A place where
lying sheets do not exist.
But maybe it is a phase
and we will be better tomorrow.

Cold Showers

I only wanted to be caught in your embrace;
to take a warm shower in this porcelain hollow space.
But the shower, so cold
it slices away my tender skin.
The discomfort cannot compare to the despair,
transferred by your syringe of loneliness.
Like a disease of HIV;
the depression cannot be reversed in any way.
You injected me with your curse
and your thoughtful cries of hurt.
I cannot find serenity,
this shower is my hearse.

Satin Red Memory

Too soft and forsaken
to be truthful by its touch,
the satin red bed sheet stained
by the past of misconduct.
The world only knows the tale
of its deadly thin array,
how it captures secrets of the raped,
the deceived, and broken faith.
It is better to not regret
so we try to forget those
gritty memories we have made,
but the sheets will keep them locked away.
We cannot kill what we did not create;
the ugliness of human race.
We manipulate memories and try to replace,
we entangle ourselves with shame and disgrace
in these satin red bed sheets
that remember it all
and they will never forget what we have done wrong.

Moving On From The Front

It is too early, even
for a cup of coffee,
a slice of toast,
... a touch of patience.
There is no turning back now.

Who
am
I
to
trust?

When the damage
has been done,
it is important to move
on from the Home Front.
I have been at war.

I used to
have the
patience
like a man
of wisdom;
The hope of a miracle.

Oh, I have been at war; even
Many times before.
My lover turns
opponent.
Opponent turns
whore.