Old stuff · Poems · writing

Never Enough

Inspiration fine as silk blown away by a fluttering of eyelashes, a pair of eyes too bright, a connection from one soul to another

Too fast.

Too soon.

Blooms grow from these solid bones this sordid flesh of mine

No one means to hurt not really

The mind can be a comforting thing in the face of our misery, never thinking twice of the wounds it will leave behind.

Take a breath, try to speak, and find you have nothing to say

They can see it all. Staring into yourself you know there is a flame within trying so hard to flicker out failing time and time again

Children learn to tie their shoes to count by two

Children learn to tie up strings to fall in love with dirty things

Fingers tracing new horizons we color outside the lines

Dreaming is my drug of choice the only side effect a heart void of this world and its inhabitants

Every day the same causes a shift of the beat inside, strumming in staccato the words and visions I cannot reclaim as I try to explain in these too little sentences some desire deep inside

Beat yourself black and blue marvel at the change as blood attempts to flow again through your broken veins

[Written sometime in 2013/2014]

aUtHoRs nOtE: Writing the tags makes me realize how sad some of my stuff is and it’s a little depressing LOL.