A shot of whisky and a cigarette
Dimly lit inside my den
Typewriter clicking
Swing music and all that jazz
Hook my thumbs under my braces
And snap them back
The sound of high heels
On the floor
Outside the door
Look out
The woman in red
Is back!
Feel free to like, share, comment and follow.
Posts every Tuesday.
He confesses my torrid soul
He is my inward dialogue
Traversed outward
I tell myself
You’re just a tornado
Passing through
Nothing to be angry at
You’re just doing what storms do
Just step outside when you’re through
The wreckage is only natural
Like water damage from a flood
It’s part of the cycle
Sometimes you’re just a little whirlwind
Other days you’re a cyclone
You don’t care you’re in the zone
You think you’ve got my cover blown
Think you’ve got me dethroned
Uncloaked
But I was never hiding
Nor do I have any power to abdicate
But you keep pointing your finger
Never looking in the mirror
I tell myself
You’re just a tornado
passing through
You’re just doing what storms do….
These treacherous miles
No song will get us there
But we still try
I’m afraid of dying
But I’m not scared of death
They say I’m still young
But I’m old before my time
I guess it just plays a little on my mind
With this little broken heart of mine
We saturate our souls
with veils
and silky shadows
hiding broken truths
behind music
The words come
easy go
because I feel hard done
Oh woe is me woe is woe
Got a blue heart
Thrashing against my bones
Feeling thoughts, I don’t even know
The way the words are supposed to go
Building walls
Without foundations
Climbing ladders
With falling rungs
Maybe if I just smoke
All these things into my lungs
Till I’m bluer than grey
With my name etched in stone
More permanent than my existence
Are the words on my tongue.
Don’t provoke me
I’ve got a monster
Caged behind this calm
