sunk

4 am

I could've been the solace that cures and transforms

alcohol into holy water

but no.

as a doll I sang what you played to me

your words: lies dressed in tinfoil

I was ash, I slept with a fire on my back head

secretly, guns sized as pins

aim at my heart.

 

I walk on the streets swinging as always

when rain comes I lay on trees awaiting to become bark

when wind comes I'm Ana and I bring you food

(here, this small heart, scared as a poult, eat it)

make me a nice looking grave as garden, tell me

that now

this is how is born out of me the most beautiful poem

that you'll whisper it to your women and they shall cry.

 

I took myself in my arms, I was sunk

turning all the lights down I prayed that big pieces of coating fell from the sky

that wild horses run through my hair

so I won't know anything

about the nothingness you are

the nothingness I was

and about this love as drifting sand in which I bustle

although I know that this

 

only hurry the burial.

hopeless

 

 

...........

 

 

 

the sad wimpish one 

 

he covers his body with blood

 

hoping someone will notice

 

just how ugly he is

 

 

he wants to be noticed

 

for the great person he truly is

 

but has no time to notice

 

that no one notices

 

anything anymore

 

 

and life goes on

 

and he stays sad

 

dying to live

 

and crying to die

 

 

never having the balls

 

to ask himself why

 

 

2:39 AM 7/6/2013

 

 

            ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

inspired by the signs of the times, and those who are having a hard time enjoying life on life's terms.