We used to dream now we drink
We used to float now we sink
Deeper than we wanted to
Deeper than anyone thought possible
We are catatonic but hysterical
About it
Just Look
Look what you did
And what i have done
And what we have done to each other
It could be much worse but also far better
This is me not forgeting to apply a pressure
To the wound
The alternative is bleeding out
Right here on the sidewalk
Where the outline of my body in chalk
Would be the only thing left
Let's just say that i am safe from identity theft
For you cannot be robbed of what you don't have
Quite sad innit
So fucking sad
The fact it doesn't even make me mad
Anymore
Soulless body washed on lonely shore
With very real keys to the imaginary door
Washed there by the waves of melancholy
By the ocean of dispair
Life is a brutal game and hardly fair
Yet it holds such beauty
Promise of which is the very definition of cruelty
And from you i expect no mercy
Because you will get none from me
And that's fine
That's how it supposed to be
I am tired of building walls just to see if someone is able to tear them down
Because they never are
And those who would be don't want to
And now what am i supposed to do?
Behind all those walls alone
Chewing my feelings turned to stone
Dissecting them to the bone
When i close my eyes i can still hear the way she used to moan
Such magical sound of physical craveing
Mist of mysticism abounding
So much more than just two people screwing
Or maybe that's all it was
She traped me in a videorecording on which she hit the pause
And even that is long gone
Just water undre the bridge
Across which
Sprints pale horse and the name of the rider on his ridge
Is Death
I wave onto him with each cigarette
But still i don't know what i would die for
Do you?
Or are you lost too?
Maybe we could be lost together
Or not
Whatever
- Author: //Blue Poet// (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: June 30th, 2021 03:45
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
- Users favorite of this poem: rebmasters
Comments1
Very nice the, dream to now we drink is a fitting to a lost future,
Now where does the psychedelic sacrament fit in ? Mom would be proud ? Or Granpa shaman too?
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.