Last night I dreamt
that somebody loved me,
I felt
real arms around me.
No hope, no hope.
Just another false alarm.
—————
Haha I nicked that one, as you can probably tell. Good though……..
Month: June 2007
Talking
My left leg
speaks a language.
It’s different to my right,
but they still try to talk
and stumbling along,
they get there
eventually.
Just got to get my fingers talking now.
OK so Peter reckons the stuff on here’s recycled crap, he’s possibly right, see what you think:
Through early morning fog
I see,
a vision of the things
to be.
I look to the future,
it makes me cry, but it seems too real
to tell you why.
Free from the Century,
with nothing but memories.
Amatuer, waffling crap eh….haha, I know you’ll be content, in the right line of employment etc
Failing
It’s not fear of failure,
that drives me – It’s
my absolute hatred of it.
Eat With Me
There’s a plate,
it’s no so big – big enough, some would say.
So pretty is the pattern
round the edge, but that doesn’t hide
the scratches,
the cracks,
littering the uncomfortable surface.
Sometimes its hot.
Sometimes cold.
Not many have eaten here, food tends to
slip off. Whatever crumbs are
left here, are quickly
gobbled.
If this plate were a soul,
would it still be whole?
Soaking
The endless rain,
absorbs my pain, a bit
but there’s a flame still lit,
damp and weak though it is.
I’m so absorbant,
and I can’t listen to these
songs anymore. They
remind me of what I used to adore.
Helplessness
Every text,
is like a knife through the heart.
Only get lonely
around people. That’s why it’s so hard,
it’s easy at the start.
There’s never a glimmer,
feelings just simmer
until they disappear.
My stomach is sick.
Wanting
The greatest fear is
of not getting what we want.
From lollipops, jobs, girls, women, such a pretty house
and then to dying with dignity.
Not getting what we want is not what stops us.
When we stop wanting, that is when it’s over.
Hurting 2
Feelings,
how could I ever do a thing
about them?
Count to ten, again
and again. If I got to a million
it wouldn’t mean a thing.
I’m dealing,
with these thoughts, sort of.
Sights of you pour
from you odours, always hoping
for an hour or two more.
Not sure,
why I want to tell you or
if you want to know
but.
You are always on my mind.
Something tells me you already know that.
Carpet
Could see her eyes
apologiesing, as she walked over
the soft, giving tenderness.
A Clubber's Guide to Life 