This Conversation Is Missing Your Voice

some nights
end with a hard sleep
others
just won’t

the mornings are optional
to
break ones rest

continual
suppression
of fire
even if the rain
falls down

he took advantage of a princess
whose eyes held diamonds
and chest cored deep

myself
self-destructing
hazardous self inflictions

I keep taking in water
with just one
button
to stop it all
yet
I choose
to avoid
it at all costs

engulfing my insides
with guilt like vices

there is a star that fuels our daylight

he seems to seek shelter at night
saturating his happiness
in liquor and love lost

there is a fine line
between
the gentlemen and myself
I am struggling against
a strengthening current
avoiding obstacles is
and always will
be
my niche

my candor is illusion

how can you expect a garden
when all you know is drought

excessively broken

sometimes I sit and wonder
why the waves decide to stop
or
why I drink so often

filling voids
or
fear of the unknown

holster your weapon and brace for a long night

let confusion and question
take the wheel

my own misery

as I recall,
from a grainy memory

I drank a hurricane
as literal as you can get
I have the labels to prove it

my disregard for the human condition
is stemming off
from my fingertips
creating destruction
from
eye to eye

she was a target

misinformed, our road of punishment
when it comes to pity
consider me king
her voice contained a resolve

more afraid of my demons within
than encountering
the likelihood
of yours

I haven’t written in a while
but when I do
the love is apparent
oh boy the restitution of humanity in love

my benevolent smile has never looked so good

heyitsdmon:

I like to give my friends moleskins and get them back after they fill them. Here are some pages from my good friend, Brooklyn artist, MMAT.

<3

it’s all in the shape
of the your mouth
&
the way your tongue
shows valor
in it’s placement
of
validity

we all could take a lesson
from our shadows
beneath us
silencing our demons
as a matter of your own resources

when my dreams and nightmares haven’t the slightest of differences

beg for a release

history becomes you

a separation of
a piece of mine
with
a peace in mind

from head to toe my heart
beats slow

my ghost inside

I have not been like myself lately,
borrowing tomorrow
as a source of stability
hope comes naturally
desire is lost

I don’t want to live outside myself

counting hours
preventing the inevitable

I would like the outside to live within me
consuming me
taking every word
as often as they flow
from sea to sea

breathing
in
fire

burning the pages at their ends
scarring our misfortunes

fumbling from start to finish
battling
around the cause
my unsettledness is obvious
conjured up by
two opposites

old flames blowing each other out

bitterness settling
from toes to tongue
a distaste
as if you’re swallowing pennies

no memory of
such absences

it’s funny how things work out

blood is indeed among the importance,
in the thickness of water
carried from eyes to face
living as near and close
as my heart allows her
a familiar resemblance
in the name of our kin

brotherly, I can only oversee and interfere from only the sidelines

I genuinely see her closer than anyone else
a truth serum
my prayer for a happiness
from dusk to dawn
to carry her through
thick and thin

able-bodied minds alike
we guarantee a throne
all kings and queens could really use a lesson
in wit and vanity
from the ones perfecting its impact

I am done using capitals
with the exception of I
because my phone and I share a continually selfishness

these words will continue to elude you

I will branch off moderately
while collecting and piecing
together our bones as if I know how to construct a skeleton

I am no carpenter
I am no saint
I am not for you

I am a here to create destruction

in the shallows of this undertow
hold me close
drifting slowly
adopting the water throughout

my lungs
engulf me
in sadness

I know what you’re capable of
ignoring the after effects

there’s a struggle through the night
anchored by your heart
resulting in
an outcome of
tossing and turning
reaching for the truth
my escape
is unsatisfied

as I pass through the train cars
I react to all of my senses
that harp on my past

reluctant to say, we all struggle in the presence of a memory

do I bend at my knees?

while my shadows persuade me

gnawing at my bones

compromising the surface

with my lazy disposition
I let voices chatter
weighing down the objective

my foot has fallen ill, the tingling of our slumber
be damned by our choices
and marred the results

I always think before I speak but I never think before I write. Words come out when necessary. The beauty of it all. From start to finish. There’s never a time I regret writing. I do however. Contemplate there impact. Slightly I hope the point finds you sullied. For I have crept between the sheets and truly demystified the ugly blatant truth of it all.

I aspire to this.