Thursday, April 22, 2010

reading at a slam

Funeral Dirge

Blame not my blind eyes
For the ruins I cast my gaze upon
do not splay the massacre of my heart
The bloody carnage
Twisted & mangled wreckage
that's left ( whats left? ) of my perception of love

I swallow my tongue
for my teeth fail to catch
the heartbr(ache) painted in d(r)ying regret on my lips
They burn
from this apathetic breath of

Sinking in realms
of the stapled fragments in my distorted reality

With elegies curling up my spine
Carving into my mind
That I
am just an afterthought

He Is A Walking Vincent Reproduction

The reveries always cease too fast
A screeching halt
& I'm face first through the windshield
Back behind this glass wall of reality
Etching your name in my breath's fog

My mind speaks in tongues
My heart
to foolish to listen
or even care
that it has left me breaking

& the stars turn their heads tonight
& sometimes they scream back at me
& sometimes
I feel interwoven with their fabrics
Pearly arms stretching outwards through my mouth
just to wipe my stillborn tears away
from this now acid washed,
once porcelain skin

Instead my pain seeps through the cracks of your regret

So I find myself peaking around corners
just to catch a glimpse of you
hiding from yourself
Because we all know
the only reason we hide
is to be found

& you left me gasping
( & guessing )
in the beauty of your Van Gogh perfection

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