#alcoholic-bard

[alcoholic-bard]

Maybe I won’t die

But become a memory

Never seen again

[alcoholic-bard]

And mine is a deep dark sea

Where poetry comes quick

In half asleep stupors

Or drunken fantasies

And mine is night sky view

Where the stars spin blurry

And sing to me

In a long forgotten tune

And mine is a lost melody

Where words are written

Smeared and bitter

In a never ending dream

And mine is a love that only whispers

Through the glass to me

[alcoholic-bard]

Chaos and clouds

An imperfect storm

Loving and proud

Easy to read then

Stubborn and loud

Mercurial in form

[alcoholic-bard]

Ragged flesh and bone

Torn by dogs

And the dogs are always men

And sometimes bitches

A very poignant feeling of not belonging

And walking forwards and sliding backwards

On a pane of ice too thick to see through

Not made for this world

I can’t write it out as fast as I think it

And I can’t think it out slow enough to know it

And like the dogs of my youth did to me

I’m ripping apart again at the seams

Between what I long to be and where I am

And what my longing to be is

And who I am

All scarred by decades of dog fights

And being ragged flesh and bone

And reeking of something long dead

Trying to decompose and grow

Again

Knowing I’m not a flower

But maybe a fungus

Building from the rot

And still poisoning everything I touch

How much longer

I’m in a rush

How much

Enough

[alcoholic-bard]

Intensity has burned every love and laugh I’ve ever breathed

Burn out and die

Reborn another flame in time

In time babe

They grow accustomed to your boiling shower

And welcome it as the morning embrace that replaces a faith

In being loved so intensely that it burns

[alcoholic-bard]

I think it’s probably okay to go through life mostly alone. To see those I used to be close to get married and have kids and do everything they left me on my own to do. I thought I was too loud and too full of fire to be outside of the crowd. But maybe I was kinda meant to be a wallflower all this time. Maybe sitting in my loneliness, breathing in the discomfort is okay. Loving animals and nature and books and art is okay. And I don’t need to really be known by anyone. I just need to deeply know myself, and that’s okay too.

[alcoholic-bard]

I am not an empty shell to be desired

I am a thousand things more than my shadow

I am a thousand things less than my mask

I am the soul of a person far too admired

I am the fire that burned to be less

[alcoholic-bard]

Recycled

Glass hearts broken frequently and viciously will dust into sand

Then slip through the fingers of time to construct themselves again