Monthly Archives: February 2016

Sunday morning phone covers: Neil Young

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Déjà Vu is one of my all-time favorite albums and I’ve always loved this song ❤

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Gilded Glass

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Blank stares meet at contrast in face
There is only one through the mirror
The gilded glass hangs for fame
Where we can see it but cannot hear

 

Body escapes the boundaries of life
As thoughts shift freely through flesh
Other minds quietly pass the time
Desiring in want of the significance

 

Eyes flicker as forehead tilts forward
Finally succumbing to unawareness
Darkness slowly creeps as shapes form
Sight expands outward framing features

I am grateful for my reflections ❤

ILL Will

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All of the stupid things I’ve said
To justify the anger
The fire burns through muscle in my chest
I don’t know how to snuff it out
There’s a fine line between carefree and careless:

I tossed the past in the trash where such horrors belong
White plastic bags buried underneath a few unidentified moments
As an ordinary object, it makes my skin crawl
I can hear it breathing, this sentient fiend preparing omens
Of hate, sending shivers down my spine making me weak
Admitting that friends become enemies when their ILL Will feels justified
Thoughts claw into the layers of your mind unconcerned with the casualty
The poison spilling out feelings sending black thoughts to anyone alive

(and to no one else in particular)
As our united soul suffers to wait for the next silent wave of an attack
Both sides lose, as they always do and the truth remains unknowing
Forces against heart demand to blind emotion
Displacing innocent wishes because it’s easier being angry than being wrong
In my mind, no death is worth this destruction
It’s all the same to me, evil is as evil does and you all know who you are

I am grateful for trash day ❤

I wonder

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I wonder if we’ve become more concerned with the

Sexiness of beauty instead of the truth of the heart

Where the outline of skin draws more attention by

Mimicking affection and confusing the sanctity of Love

Building crippling relations through the idea of touch and

Aggression as dark as what we’ve assessed to be unthinkable

When the cheap inspection of emotion can only affirm as much

As we claim when forming attachments as nothing more than optional

 

I am grateful for Tim ❤

 

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Monthly Archives – February 2015

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Monthly Archives: February 2015

 Unrecognizable me

Posted on February 26, 2015 by MuseWriter

Breathing in the mental hunger tasted
By ordinary thoughts created

Memories of what we question

Of what is real and what is a reflection

Or the mental mind stamp of time and place

The pictures drawn to dream

Each moment to catch your attention

Bracing for the next life lesson

Simple happiness simply wasted

The imagination is hated

Painting on a believable face

Unrecognizable me

 

Basement Corridors

Posted on February 18, 2015 by MuseWriter

I descend the staircase
Step after step
Spiraling downward
Inside of a turret of
Stone and mortar

Shadows dance along
Always by my side
Following the way down
As the light slowly dims and
Then it is extinguished

Darkness consumes sight
My friends of confidence
Of light and dark that
Leave me alone in my silence
Without the echoing cadence
Step after step
Inside of the basement corridors
Of my mind

 

Empty Eyes

Posted on February 15, 2015 by MuseWriter

I woke up from a dream and I lost control
I rubbed the dirt from my eyes
And I see nothing but the night below
And I hear the wind on all sides

I watch the hands on the clock
I slip through the sands of time
Visions blurred, unspoken words
Have I lost my mind?

I find myself so alone
Starring back at everyone
Bodies pass me by
With their empty eyes

I walk with you between these old bones
Among, the crooked rows, of lost and broken stones
Black phantoms marching, their footsteps pass me by
And I hear nothing but the sounds of snow
I watch the spirits rise

 

Blue chair

Posted on February 12, 2015 by MuseWriter

The floors are white
annoyingly so
Shining the reflection
of light
Into my eyes

The chair is blue
Rusted with age
Probably picked up
on the side of the road
Or given away

Soles of shoe
connect to the
Slippery surface
mirroring the ceiling
Disbelieving

Sitting down upon
seat in middle of room
With the glittery floor
and single object of
Furniture

Blue chair scuffs white
floor and rings out an
Echoing scream of
metal scraping tile until
Silence

 

*insert title* II

Posted on February 2, 2015 by MuseWriter

Fish
My back is enveloped within the trenches of my mattress
Body’s tensions easing into this nightly intimacy of comfort and safety
Submerged underneath layers upon layers of dreamt wishes
I sink into the bottom as a sleeping fish on the ocean floor
Wishing everyone above Goodnight

Greatest Masterpiece
There are acceptable phrases to begin particular statements,
The remembered hardships become the sentences that wrench out of gut;
the blood and the intestines pouring out of stomach into a heaping pile of life
Symbolizing the jagged wound opening human flesh to kill all of the hidden spaces of ideas
Metaphorically dying as a sacrifice to the Greatest Masterpiece

Puppet Strings
She glances left with her bright white eyes and painted lips.
Now head turns to accentuate perspective.
Left arm moves up, next the right.
Now eyes face forward.
Mouth chatters as she walks.
Left foot steps, right steps next.
Hands lift and sway.
Now head tilts up, rosy cheeks round.
Her mouth is open wide but no one can hear a sound.
Now head looks down and her eyes are hidden.
Puppet strings can only do so much

 

There’s never a face…

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There’s never a face

Only a blurred mask of features

Cloaked in all black

Probing, seeking, killing

We never learned how to believe

Shoved into this state of certainty

With acceptance in grieving

As if being alone is freeing

I say fuck that

The rooms are familiar

They haunt me in my sleep

Saving the night for disaster

As the psycho beast creeps

This time I’ll be waiting

Not running through the maze

In this life of creation

We own the hours of the day

 

I am grateful for staying awake ❤

Someone’s Ghost

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An old song is playing on the radio

Where there is no time

Forgotten in the journey of the unknown

I don’t want to ask why

 

It’s easy being the one unnoticed

Let’s forget the past

It’s been said that I lack focus

But no one has ever asked

 

We can pretend to live forever

For in death do we part

Hopefully then you’ll find it easier

To forget it all from the start

 

You’ve never been a real person

Just someone’s ghost

As a figment of my imagination

A stranger at most

 

I am grateful for public radio ❤