Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Hidden

The chair creaks
the sound echoes
in the silence of the room.
The sound of
my pen
scratching away
at the paper
is loud,
and daunting.
Word after word
I write
and word after word
I cut,
nothing seems good.
Restless, I feel,
the words locked
inside of me.
Wanting to get out,
escape
but not being able
to do so.
Hidden from me,
my words abandon me
in this time
of need.
Silence surrounds me,
suffocating me,
strangelling me.
Like a noose
around my neck,
tightening with
every passing minute.
I scramble for
breath,
and my words.
I feel like a
ticking bomb,
waiting to explode,
at any moment.
But still they hide,
beneath their hidden perch.
My words, oh words,
where have you gone?
Come back to me,
I promise
to fully pay my respects to you, and
I will
pay my dues to you.
Just come back.


Wednesday, March 20, 2013

20.2.2013

you waited too long,
and now its too late.
the time is up,
the countdown is over,
the finish line is in sight,
the end is near.
like pulling
a rug from
underneath me,
you took me
by surprise.
stumbling
unsure of my footing,
the ground is wobbly
beneath me.
like standing on
the edge of a
cliff
one slip
and
I fall.
down
down
down
into the looming
darkness.
but I will
find my
footing.
and i will be stable
and i will take
that leap
and fly down,
flying
and i will swim
to the
shore.







Monday, March 18, 2013

Her Corner

There she stands
at a street
corner.
In fish-net stockings
a miniskirt
and a dirty white tank
showing off
months of grime.
Her fingers
hold a smoke,
though it
doesn't get to her
dry lips.
When I pass by,
her lips form
into a teasing,
and what she hopes to be
a flirty smirk.
But it doesn't reach her eyes,
her eyes
tell a different story.
Heavy and dull
they tell her story
because everyone's got one.
There are circles under them,
dark purple,
they speak of long
and sleepless nights.
Her hair fall
limp,
and her body thin,
her clothes
barely holding up on her
body.
The street is
empty,
but I watch her.
Now that no one's here,
she throws away
her smoke
and her shoulders
slump.
Now that the street
is empty,
I watch
two tears fall
on her dirty tank,
soaking the cloth.
Someone comes up
and she stands
straight,
no sing of tears
except of the two dots
on her dirty
tank.
Slowly, she walks with him,
back straight
into the light of the
street.
But her eyes
lose their light
and I watch her
until she disappears
around another corner.