Category Archives: Second-Year 2013

Second Draft from Nine Months Ago

Presence removed from my room after a night.
As simple as that.
I’ll still respond to your messages, but only because
it’s polite.

You asked me for words,
I gladly gave you a fist –
and when back home once removed of you,
gave hundreds of words and letters
to a man who could never compete with you.

I only replied to remain polite.

Twice denied, it’s a pity
of slight. But at least
I can say your name and think
of him at the same time.

Draft from 9 Months Ago

I’ll remember him tomorrow
but tonight I’ll make mistakes for myself.
Unattached romance from sex, a thing once promised
never to do. But I’ll prove my words with
actions following. Tonight I cannot think and
not can I feel the pain tomorrow from this night’s
escapades.

All romances end with a death.

Tonight’s anyone’s mine to kill, to exact
revenge and break their heart to keep my own
stitches from falling apart.

I’ll remember him tomorrow, but tonight
I’ll fend and break myself.

A Song of Sorrow

A song of sorrow,
simple, that you’re not with me.
And yet, perhaps, the fault is mine because
your name always comes first in line.

This isn’t what I wanted, I didn’t know how,
how to allow myself to ask for what I dreamt
so close.

When I saved all my bad words to serve
as a first to yours,
they dissolved as sugar in water in a swift
kiss.

But was it you or I that stirred it first?

Good Enough for Tonight

You’re not great
but you’re good enough for tonight.
You can’t see truth in fiction
and that just rubs me wrong
but in this moment of notice
I don’t care as long as you
rub me raw.

God, I can fucking hate you.
It’s so easy to hate you,
pretentious twit with the
false idea you have something
to prove.

God I can’t stand it. Not
for very long. Just do
what you want and I’ll
get what I want just
as long as you leave,
I’d rather you not stay.

You’re picking scabs
I didn’t know where there.

And I’m not even sorry,
I don’t expect you to be,
but your sex wasn’t great,
but I didn’t figure you’d be.

You’re not great.
You’re not even good enough
to stay, so I’d rather you leave.

You asked me for words.
I laughed in your face, I’ll
give you these words at the
end of this song to go and
kindly fuck off.

19 January

Closing eyes on a blurred
but made, undepressed bed-
side. Closing eyes to a thought of you
unseen by eyes in the living
timed world.

Rather I lie in this lie
that lives in the blurred world
of truth and formless nonlies.

Fall in love with thoughts and dreams
and words that fall them inbetween and
though leagues and sleeps apart, the cracks wide
enough to bed oneself with fogged
truths that build this lovely night mental
and nightdreamnt scene.