PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I came home satisfied with the evening,

then the door left me with the same questions.

almost supernatural,

that frog in my throat 

breathless and over dramatic.

kinda funny how these walls take everything!

I never remember fearing the dark 

only the things hidden in empty rooms 

so I filled shelves with books,

drawers with clothes,

sheets with freaks 

and some where down the line i noticed 

the comfort faded 

that the halls lined with frames 

the static filled air wasn't enough.

no place has ever been home for long

disillusion in every stain!

if I count back from ten now will it all brush aside, 

will my heart not shrink when you touch me,

will heart break kill her again,

will he not beat the living shit out of us,

or breath all those lines of hate that fueled a rage 

and a mouth that could cut through leaving only blood and hate?

I don't live near the monster in the wall, 

hell hes not even the same crippled 

mechanical and frizzing out.

I don't even remember what she looked like,

all those pictures seem so foreign!

I cant help but feel sorry for my actions,

or reactions... but today was nice.

its so much better off the map, 

I never was good with directions or fallowing dotted lines.

I guess I would not want to fix my kinks but its nice to dream.

it would be nice to say I forgive them for the hardest years,

but its hard to when you cant lay in the silence.