Loser

You’re a loser
Reflecting back to me
My insecuririties
And I hate you
As much as I hate me
And that’s why
I won’t look you in the eyes (I rarely look anyone in the eyes though)
Because I on’t wanna see
Myself trapped in a cell
Inside your irsises

You’re a loser just like me

You’re a loser and I hate you
As much as I hate me
And that’s why I’m shaking
Because I want to die
Like I want to kill you
But I couldn’t hurt a fly
And thats my dilemma
I’m scared of my own mind

You’re a loser
Ugly inside
Like me

Catalyst

It’s gonna be a slow day
I’m taking in the view
As if I’m still watching you
Because you’re the valve

That’s missing from my heart
And I need you
To put me in the wrong direction
So I can get high
And then fall back down to earth
Cuz right now I’m in limbo
And from this point of view
All I can see is you
And what I shouldn’t have said or done
I need a catalyst

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New posts every Tuesday.

Pillar

I wanted to be a pillar
Against all that can break
Steady against the waves
Without taking on the pain
Taking everything in my stride
Letting no harm pass
Into the crevices of my mind

I wanted to be the man
With that fierce mentality
Who knew all about brutality
While being one of the friendliest guys
You wouldn’t wanna get on the wrong side of him
But he’d sooner help you than get in a fight

I wanted to be that man
But I’m nothing
Without you by my side.

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Throwback Thursday: The boys we were

We sat and watched the trains
Listened to their wheels screech on the line
Our faces dusty and muddy from play
But we always fell to silence to watch the trains
Going this-a-way and that-a-way
And we mimicked the sounds in our games
“WOOoWOoooo”

We’d run too close to the tracks
And our mothers screamed, “Get back!”
And oh how we laughed
And our faces looked on with anticipation
As the rumble of a train could be heard
In the distance

And the paper mill would sound an alarm
And we’d burrow down under a bench
Because under there we’d come to no harm
Our grandfathers told us of the wars
And in our imaginations, a fight was ahead
And we were evacuee’s waiting for a train

And our little dusty faces
Peered under hats
And our grandparents would clean us
By spitting onto a handkerchief
And we’d squirm
And wash our faces again behind their backs

Now the boys we used to be
Sit frozen in sepia photographs

Written in 2014-2015 (c)

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Detatched

That feeling without the words
The thoughts entangled in it gone
Just this…
Sadness
Trying to clarify

The worlds madness

The breeze doesn’t seem
To touch you
In these moments
As if even the world is keeping
Itself distant

 

 

A little late today.

New posts every Tuesday

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