PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There is a hole in my window

Probably created by one of my childhood

angry spouts

where I punched in the window pane

and used its tiny pieces to seperate pride and anxiety

I sat in the chair

Hands sniffing me out

He says honey you're fine

and this is some thing you're doing

Sorry I havent shaved my legs

Sorry I reeked of sweat and depression

Count these hours

Light the matches

I saw the body on the road

I could not remove my eyes from the blood

the bone

But it was not a body, only a mailbox

and a bumper

I wanted to see death through figments

of imagination

I have been running from the itch

of its claw

The sunlight is distinct in here

And I cannot sleep

5:05 PM on a Thursday

I cannot put the thoughts down

I cannot stop chewing gum

I am a donor

Lover, where are your eyes now

She wants me

She wants me hard

I could tell by the force of her drunken

tongue in the back of my throat

Her nails on the back of my neck

there were not supposed to be there

I didn't ask it, but Ive kept your little secret



I'm home alone tonight

and I've left my baggage at your threshhold

I fight the good fight while he's popping pills

instead of buying diapers

And he's turning around

he's turning around for the infinite time

Crack babies

and trailor trash

Cracked trailors

and baby trash

You can't rid yourself of the filth that you've

allowed to settle in

Where did the hope go?

Maybe I just take it as it is

The curtains block the way

but Im really not interested

The neighbor beat his wife and

she ran back with a smile

Sip the overdosage of self born pity

Doesnt life taste good

for a moshpit brain

Makes us want to slip out and

follow the theories of sciece

I am air

rushing through a hole

of a broken window pane