These Eyes Of Mine

In these eyes of mine, I can see a sunshine of shimmering hope, blood soaked jeans from a sobering dope fiend looking for that Scope of life to rinse the pain away. Agony of love, the stray defeat from the coffee beans taking the morning jitters away. Folks blow their last dollar away like a puff of smoke from the new night that becomes day. I can visualize, see where my destiny lies but never grasp, clutch what must be nothingness in these hands full of the sand that is time slowly drifting in the wind to a new clay pot, watching it rot to the earth below. Shadows of pleasure elope into a dark ego that can only be seen by the sceneries of green watching kids play but lay low. Afraid of the strays that may hit, but mustn't deter them from going with the flow. Act like you know the destiny that unravels before me, but in reality my destiny is hard to find. Especially through these eyes of mine.

I can see through you to your soul like x-ray vision, incisions, lacerations to your heart that drives the barricade to become further, taller, but never small enough to let anyone in. Sin driven misfits made life hard to live. To give yourself to anyone seems foolish, so all you can do is pretend that your heart has mended, but that's like a band-aid to a bullet wound when passion is mistaken for lust. Trust no one but yourself in these selfish times. Dimes to a dozen that not even your best friend, your cousin knows what lies beneath. Morbid thoughts, devilish intentions, perfumes wreak of the scent of lost certainty from within that burgundy cashmere sweater you wear proud. As another needle shrouds your true emotions, another puff of smoke cloaks your true desires. Can't rescue someone from the fire if they yearn to burn with it. Your destiny is my destiny and they are both hard to find. Especially through these eyes of both, yours and mine.

Love Me Again

Looking in the mirror on the vanity.
Insanity, insanely looking at imperfections.
Directions my eyes navigate from
North to south, east to west, from
Chest to neck, from neck to face.
Disgrace, pity, I see in these eyes
That stare back at me.
Ugly, the horror of wondering
Why I'm not pretty.
I want to be a model, so I can gloat,
Float around with arrogance.
Perpetuating hate with every
Ugly face I see.
Discard their feelings,
Erase their thoughts as
They can't believe what I say.
Display my ego for those
To judge and hold
A grudge to the
Blasphemous words I speak.

Looking in the mirror on the vanity.
Insanity, insanely looking at imperfections,
I see beauty.
Beauty through these eyes of mine.
Find from north to south, east to west,
From chest to neck, from neck to face
A place for love to share.
I dare not speak words of hate,
For those thoughts shall rest
In the bottom of the lake in my soul.
The beginning was an illusion,
The end was the reason why
I love me again.

Tired Valentine

Decompressing respective ideas longing for that one-night stand that lasts eternally. Spell bound, hell's hound awaits near the fiery depths of my personal hell. Grid locked, stripped hot women surround me with STD tears longing to find someone near as fear guides another man with a beer in his hand. "Will you dance with me perty lil lady?" lately that's the line echoed through the silent violent aching head of mine. I can visualize him standing there without a care, taking her home on a dare whispered in his ear from her.Then three days pass as a fiery feeling eminates from his passionate loins. Taken for a ride, dipped in groin heat stripped and has a fever to itch where no man need to. Caught that flu from someone new, another piece of strange. That dame did take him on a ride not of joy but of a bug she deployed deep within. Glad him not me, left the scene after the dance. Crashed at my place with a bottle of Jack Daniels and coke to chase my guilty thoughts away. Didn't make that move as my heart grows cold, bitter as vinegar wine, and left here to mope as another tired Valentine.

Decompressing repressed thoughts of her, of you pounding pavement with each step closer to her apartment. Watching from a distant as you move closer, grab her hand and pull closer. Tug as she shrugs it off and allows you to kiss her on that right cheek. That's my cheek, forbidden to be touched by anyone but me. See you flee, skipping to a beat in your head, full of heat. Grabbing your phone on the way home, then racing back to the apartment door. Knock, pulled in, rocked by the jerking of your hand. Damn, taken in, giving in, willingly submissive as the walls close in. Full of sin from within, left with a burdensome thought, agony of knowing but glowing inside from lowering yourself to do what should of never been done. Oh well, fuck it, it's just another Valentine's Day passed, and no one has to know. This grows my heart cold, bitter as vinegar wine, and left here to mope as another tired Valentine.

Pillow Creases

As I look at the emptiness of a bed we once shared. I think of all the intimate, sarcastic, goofy words we once said. The prayers, the laughter, the arguments, the bickering, the kissing, the moaning, that feeling we once had. Was it all just a dream? What have we become? No longer are words shared, thoughts brought to the table vanished. All I see is a cold, blank stare. Do you no longer care?

Before I drift into another restless night, I look upon the pillow you laid your head upon each night. I look at each individual crease, count them and realize it's the same number of weeks we shared together. Laying next to each other with thoughts never conveyed through words but with actions. Maybe your reaction was because I never had the right thing to say at the right time. I managed to allow your departure, your escape to the world of maddening vultures and predators looking for an attempt to take your love for granted. Maybe that was I, but never realized it until you walked away.

My eyes begin to progressively get heavier as I grab your pillow one last time closer to my face. I smell you. The scent of your perfume, the scent of your shampoo, that scent that words could not describe. Bringing back the memories of discussions. How are future would pan out. Where we would be in 20, 30 years from now. That old couple cuddling along the sofa watching another movie. Or sitting on the porch holding hands rocking back and forth enjoying the company of our grand kids playing amongst the green grass in our yard. These thoughts are no longer possible, but were probable if for just the moment in time we spoke of them.

Frustrated, alone, but drift into a land of unknown with that burned thought of you embedded in my mind. The photograph of your face that shall... That shall never erase from dreams. If there's no hope to have you in my reality, I can at least dream of what we once were...