From Within; I Will Be Harmed

How Can I tell- (1 of 1).jpg
~
Holding over my head
Forgiveness and love
As if it isn’t a given
She cries and rattles
Telling me she’s sorry
That I caused her pain
But says she forgives
I sob and rememeber
So I take the burden
With my final sorrow
I bring her back within-
~
But little did I know
That this was untrue
And she was a quiet
Silent enemy of faith
Her wretched mind
Tore up my intents
And called back my
Hopeless reliance on
Love and forgiveness
A reliance that she so
Kindly fostered within-
~
I don’t want to be this
But what could I do
I cannot run from her
And so I can’t escape
I must quietly refrain
And do my part well
So that she does not
Tear out my wilting
Heart from within.

~

This is an older piece I did but I really wanted to do some actually art for it…. which ended up coming out like a comic of sorts…Hope you enjoy it… I quite liked it…

n

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You Must Jump

floppy (1 of 1)
~
Would it be just?
If I were to…
If I were to just jump
I really think I must
Silly men demean my plans
So let’s show them
Honey jump
You must
Get off your stool
You must
Just take a rest
Ready up
Then jump 
~

This is a drawing a did a while back and I never quite wrote a piece to go along with it…. But now I have so here it is… Hes standing waiting for what he doesn’t know, waiting for something he been told to embrace but simply cannot for the unknown to him is fear itself. The poem is what is inside his head, what the little woman is telling him, the little man he grew up with has left and she has taken his place. The…. character doesn’t know what to make of it for she is vague, unknown and he doesn’t trust her.

Now he is here, his feet lost for now… unnecessary… And she is telling him to jump. But he doesn’t know where to, jump into his future? Jump off the brink of certainty and into the unknown? or is she simply telling the character to jump of the roof of a building…. Jump to his death; He doesn’t know and this is the point that both pieces are a snapshot of.

n

Sticked

I used to have a hand…
An arm that I could call my own
But easy wasnt for me
So I thought short and soft
And said “fukkit damn”
Smoked a blunt and knew
I was gonna be that one bloke
Who could be called badass
I rolled up my sleeves
So that I could feel the wet breeze
On my scarred white skin
Not a hint of happiness to be found
On my dead flesh clompers
So I brought up the needle
And poked and stabbed for hours
It really didn’t hurt much though
And when it was finished
I had something that was me
Dirty twisted and wrongly bled
I pulled down my sleeves
And decided that was that
And went on doing what I could
To make sure it was shown
That my body was now my own

n

Concerning My Editing, Or Lack Of It

Just a quick thought; I was reading back a few posts and honestly some of the pieces I release is incredibly rough… Untouched, unedited and obviously lacking finish. My first thought was to possibly… Edit the work, “fix” it, turn it into what I now think it should be…

But at the same time I don’t want to change it… This isn’t a finalized publication, essentially it is just a journal… One that has been composed. What is put into this blog is basically what’s meant at the time… I mean, it is what was and I quite like that. It brings me back, to where I was… And I almost feel if I were to change my work, that it would feel as if I were trying to change the past. Which I do not want to do, so I think Ive decided to just leave it. Im not sure, well see..

n

Blind Morality

{I see them every moment.
On TV and in paper magazines
I tried to hide from them
But no longer do I think I can
Keep my gaze averted
From those freak fucking creeps}
~
{I know they can’t stand to mind
For every tick of time passed
So they huddle down away
And bow down their eyes like I
But we aren’t quite alike
And I know those psychs see it}
~
{So please just take care to notice
For those who cannot themselves
And won’t quite bring it up now
Seal their mind and if you can’t
Im very sure youre one of them
So don’t bother me anymore
I’ll keep kind and mind
my wary distance}

PainfulHours

I’m waiting
Simply hating on the hand
The one who feeds and clothes me
Get out of my sunny head
Stop shouting treaded lies
I want to release
Let out all of my pain
Shattered ideals taunt me
Everyday gaining speed
Get the fuck out
Please just stay away
For I can no longer deal with the hours
These spurts of painful silence
Let it work itself out
And please just leave me be
n