This is my Creation

Eros J. Belle, poet.

[msfrankenstein]

This account is no longer going to be active. Follow @msfrankkenstein for my new blog!

Eros J. Belle

[msfrankenstein]

I had a friend once who said her version of hell would be a bowling alley I never understood what she meant Until years later When I'm writing this poem on the back of a grocery recite The mind numbing yellows and monotonous beep of items being scanned Gets to me in my dreams I see all of the blurred faces And ignored bigoted remarks From ignorant customers The constant bitching behind each employees backs "Your mental heath means nothing in regards to my business" Fuck you.

Eros J. Belle

[razorshapes]

[unwakeable]

[msfrankenstein]

Red, hot tempered Scalding Like boiling water beneath my skin My eyes burn and I can barely see I can't think I just act I'm a marionette to the madness screaming in my mind.

Eros J. Belle

[msfrankenstein]

I sing a song of nighttime hues The world consists of yellows and blues I will paint the sky, With the madness inside my head Behold these images My eyes have misled. The universe is swirling With the wine inside my glass I sit upon a hilltop And gaze up at the past With a nostalgia for the future Will the stars aline? Or continue to swirl within the nighttime sky?

Eros J. Belle

[msfrankenstein]

Sometimes the night Will fight my dreams Hear their silent screams As moonlight beams evade shadows Of the midnight gallows Of my shallow, dreaming mind Reality is long forgotten and left behind.

Eros J. Belle

[msfrankenstein]

There is a hurricane within my mind A kaleidoscope of thoughts and Memories Cobwebs and empty boxes, Unorganized confusion Hidden behind storm clouds Threads of wonder Music With soundless colour I'm just a feather Floating in the air

Eros J. Belle

[msfrankenstein]

You need to learn a lesson in modesty You get it honestly Contempt drips from your teeth With every word you speak You think you're better than me? Well I gotta say probably You walk past with your crooked crown I'm not going to look down

Eros J. Belle

[vanish]

[enyopoetry]

Old books. New flowers

[msfrankenstein]

She held the moon in her arms Secret whispers emerging from within the shadowy craters Refractions of light and scattered stars The line between reality and fiction growing fainter. Sleeping in silver streams Held captive by her dreams The street lamps seems to talk In tongues of delumination As she walks under their glow She looks to the moon out of habit And no longer wonders where the light did go.

Eros J. Belle

[oscartales-deactivated20140102]

[msfrankenstein]

Say Goodbye to me with gentle hands lightly grazing the back of my neck. Say Goodbye to me with slow, intoxicating kisses getting drunk on each other one last shot before we have to rip our lips from the bottle's edge. Say Goodbye to me with one last cigarette flicking ash out the window of your car. Say Goodbye to me with those curious, wandering hands of yours teasing me, touching me in all of the places I ache to be touched. Say Goodbye to me with those mahogany eyes, deep, dark, and sinful gazing upon my wanton and exposed soul. Say Goodbye to me with Pink Floyd playing softly in the background a cadence of lovers having to part. Say Goodbye to me with "Just one more kiss," and chaste desperate lips. Say Goodbye to me But please, Please don't actually go.

Eros J. Belle

[won-der-land89]

[msfrankenstein]

Do you remember sitting on your rooftop? And it started to rain How we stayed up there anyway And watched the cloudy night parade. I remember getting lost And I sliced my foot on a barbed wire fence Yet I burst out laughing Because back then it still somehow made sense. And sometimes at night The wolves will howl that very same Melody we sang that summer day I still remember the shadows cast along the rocks from those five little flames. Things may be different now We've undergone inevitable change But these memories These memories will never fade.

Eros J. Belle

[msfrankenstein]

And that’s the thing, They don’t fucking know. And you can’t say anything because you sit and choke on your own tongue. I’m haunted by versions of myself that have died everyday. They ask “Are you alright?” but don’t want the answer “I’m not fucking okay.”

Eros J. Belle