"You better put the pen to paper"

A place to collect my various writings. Mostly poetry.

[eliaswritings]

Wine stained lips trail kisses down her spine

Two lovers they were, and lovers they were

Together alone, light touches divine,

That woman and her Sapphic lover.

Time became a meaningless construct as minutes passed like hours

Neither woman in any rush to part.

That beastly creature called the sun was made to cower

As they pulsed together with every beat of their hearts.

Supple skin under calloused fingertips tingle,

Each curve a formerly undiscovered country.

While breaths were drawn, and sighed, and made to mingle

Nowhere else could either of them fathom to be.

And when the night drew to a close,

The sun found the courage to break the horizon.

Only then did either see fit to dose,

Content that their eternal love was not undone.

-EG

[eliaswritings]

There’s a darkness spreading in my veins

It runs like syrup, sickly sweet

Sliding along, it never wanes,

All the same, like an album on repeat.

  As it passes the blood/brain barrier

Strange visions come to mind,

And I think them far deadlier

Then anything they leave behind.

  The moment between thought and action

Is where logic and reason come to play.

They still the body before the thought gains traction

And preserve me safely at bay.

  But still, the darkness spreads through me.

The needle never skips a groove.

And for as far as the inner eye can see

The darkness never ceases to move.

  The trail it leaves confounds me further

When logic and reason have picked it apart.

I feel myself- my mind- a blur,

Like a student lacking context examines art.

  I find the darkness has a sort of beauty,

Though I know I’m not supposed to.

I know I owe it no duty,

But it has become a friend, though they tell me it’s not true.

  And thus I’ve left the being alone

To rein havoc on my fragile, frail form.

I’ve let it settle- nestle along each bone

As if, along with myself, it was born.

  I can’t remember if I’ve been sick forever.

It certainly feels the case.

I can’t help but wonder if I will ever

Put the demon in its place.

-EG

[eliaswritings]

The American Dream ™ is a fucking lie

Force fed to the masses like holy scripture

As if we work harder, we’ll make it ok,

But really, we work and work until we die.

  The American Dream™ is a fucking lie

Bought and sold by Hollywood Hellhounds

Repackaging recycled ideas for gold

That the masses never cease to buy.

  The American Dream ™ is a fucking lie

Indoctrinated as children, we all learn

That we can be anything we want to be-

Just aim for the stars, kid, aim up high.

  The American Dream™ is a fucking lie

That I bought hook, line, and sinker,

Never planning for the possibility it’s not me

And never able to figure out-

           Why?

-EG

[eliaswritings]

There is futility in dealing in what is never to be And yet, I still have hope. For it is only human nature, you see, A means by which we all must cope.

When doubt and fear cast shadows on the wall And you’re too tired to sleep, Upon dreams we call To richen what feelings we reap.

There is no real way without hope to live And we all know that I’ve tried. For all the cares and worried that I give, I tried to forget how to myself I’ve lied.

-EG

[eliaswritings]

I cracked my ribs to let the sunshine in,

But all I did was let the vitriol out.

Tarnished by love and poisoned with sin,

I tried to go on living without.

  No more, I cried, as I shattered bone.

My ribs, a cage once soldered shut,

Let slip secrets none of us condone

With words designed to deeply cut.

  Twas a sore needed lancing in order to heal.

A set of lungs ready to finally expand

Made room for the heart that was ready to feel.

And then he took my hand.

  I know I didn’t ask him to stay.

I’m surprised, after all that I said

He asked if he may

Since the beast within was dead.

  We sat on the porch smoking spirits and blowing rings

Waiting together to see what tomorrow brings.

-EG

[eliaswritings]

If these four walls could melt into nothingness, then maybe I’d be inspired

I’m sick of waiting to live, and waiting to write, and waiting to die.

I long to create something that makes me give a damn.

I feel my mind is stagnated, overrated, really in a jam.

 When will these feelings go from dark to serene?

When will the light return again?

I’m here, ready to front the next scene,

Ladies and gentlemen.

There’s been a delay.

- EG