Burning Wood

The last chapter to this storm of disaster

a new slate to begin maybe even a new friend

keeping calm on rough tides to set foot on still land

here has come today the last of past

no more cracked concrete but open green grass

i wait for the action to know the next play

fooling myself each day all day

a foolish fool i am and have always been

why cant I accept what appears to be an end

My heart keeping me blind loaded wounds without a mend

the insides are sliced no longer a perfect 10

If its not to perfection how could it ever be

it once was the only way you ever saw me

to have been chopped into pieces like wood from a tree

with only leaves left to wonder how this could be

if only love between two could ever be true

I guess that’s why some painters only paint in blue

 

 

April 10, 2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dead Island

Must be a get back game that’s continued to play

im strung along but the play is one way

the game grows tired through each passing day

your heart is too hurt no room for me to stay

the damage has been caused all the way around

and each and every smile has been made turned upside down

Bottles are on hand for ones like me to drown

but keeping calm is all that’s left to be found

These words were written in the days counted down

but I’ve reached the finish line with hardly no words to be found

Its a dead end with no more road left to travel

my heart I leave here under dirt road and gravel

 

Work Desk (random thoughts) 4/9/14

Ok, I will let you know as soon as possible to defy the ages and times of afternoon thought of companionship floating through a world of non-existence.   Diving off a precipice with sheer motivation and an uncontrolled desire. Sweeping past waves of hurdles to get to that final destination, and only in the cutting edge of a moment will there be any glimmer of progress. To stand still is not of option for you are destined to float through the many corridors that befall and beguile us all. Keep in mind the key that is being etched to fit the tumbler of your being for it is sure to commune as a fitted destiny.