#wallscrawl

and

no one

speaks of

the days lost

to the lies

given us

when we

were young,

or the lives

lost when

we started

becoming

that which

we were

taught to

be

and

I still

wonder

if they still

wander out

there, aimless

drifts seeking

their homes

in our hearts;

the people

we ought

to have

been.

but

i still

keep

hope,

that i’ll

someday soon

drift

back into

line

with the

me

i was

always

supposed to

tear at my mind like

fingernails across chalk,

lonesome sirens repeating

what was already known 

and somehow you find

yourself home in

this forlorne

tomb.

but 

hold not

fast,

steady,

or

true,

for your scattered

hopes 

and

charcoal

dreams are naught

but lost amidst 

the crashing

tides of this

lonesome

blues.

so goodnight my

dear, and carry not

me unto your soft

good night, for we

can not be much

longer for this

earth than what

it’s “makers”

have 

decreed

how many times

must I cut away at

the parts of my

skin that still

hold you so

lovingly within,

until i can

truly call

myself

free of

all that 

you helped

make

breathe

and

only when

broken

and

bloodied

do

we

seek

personal

rebirth

of both

flesh

and

soul

the problem

always being,

it’s far easier

to remain

caged in

binding

doing the typing

cause you got

too low to

be sightly

and your

fingers bleed

to race across

the board while

your brain

rains with

apprehension

but the hell

should my mind

or body know

about that which

my soul feels

so intrinsically?

Something is wrong

and 

I think I gotta move

on

but for the love

of all, i can’t

tell if she

loves it

more when

i’m twisting

about

i gotta keep

reminding myself

that nothing good

comes without work,

and that in life

we do not find

but rather

we create

our own