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@bapofalpe-blog
Jealous am I of those whose troubles can be solved with a fist or a bullet, and of those who have brothers to help the deliver it.
I constantly long for something to fight for to die for. I want to be a martyr so my typical self-sacrifice can at least be to some end.
I’ve loved you for so long that faking it’s no chore. So easy I could do it in my sleep.
That is, if I could sleep. But my thoughts are occupied by eyes and lies and so I lie awake and hold you a little tighter hoping you’ll understand when I gather up the nerve to tell you.
The most beautiful things lie Just beyond comprehension Begging to be believed.
Tonight’s the night you kicked me out after crying for an hour because you didn’t believe me when I told you you were beautiful.
And as I watched your tears pool in the crux of your eye and nose, I wondered why I had been cursed with such bad luck as to never know the words to say to make you smile.
It hurts to know I’ll never be able to talk you off of a ledge... The best I’ll ever manage is to pat your back and hope I don’t push you off in the process.
Nothing is more beautiful than blank paper, and nothing contains as much meaning. Like silence, it exists to be the void and to provide the means with which to fill it. Some see a field and plant a garden. I may as well just be tearing up the earth.
I know I have to write if I want to get any better to be more expressive to have poetry that I can admire that I can share without apprehension
But the words like to bounce around in my head before jumping onto the paper like a ray of light trying to escape the sun’s dense inner core.
...too many thoughts lost to the black hole that is my lack of conviction.
Friend of a Friend, Cousin of a Lover, Son of a Schoolmate These individuals, celebrities of the daily life, who we hear such talk about and meet once - or twice if we’re lucky stand in our mind as statues built by foreign hands
If I was a beautiful bird, walls would offend me.
My body is older than I am, and not in some smart-assed “9 months” sense, but by years. Nigh eighteen.
I remember those who resided here before me, my fathers idols precursors They passed down unspeakable knowledge, left me their heir, as I will do for the next.
The brain is my last will and testament when my mind moves on.
This dependence on light will be the death of me. I long to read in the dark Meander at midnight Wander through the words and feel my way through their halls Without the urgency of finding a switch
The universe started in a flash, and Earth’s own genesis was supervised by the parental glare of our sun. I, however, was born in darkness. Whitewashed walls were the mould into which I was poured; Cast in the shadow of the sun and the moon.
...fluidity finding definition in the human form