Free Write · Personal · Poetry · Writing

Punk Rock Loyalty

Last night you slept in my bed.

I wrapped my arms around you just like old times.

These moments, I know, we can never return to, still I think you know.

We are the best and the worst for each other.

We indulge in one another’s insanities.


We go driving for hours,

playing one up on the stereo.

We loathe society.

We do not fit into the ideals of

anyone of anything….

But we had each other.

As beautiful and ugly as things could be.

Each extreme.


You tell me she enjoys nothing.

You sneer and call her your mommy.

I can see your confusion.


I pick up my guitar and you tell me,

We are Tim and Brody,

That I’ve always known,

I was the Bonnie and you were Clyde.

I called you my time bomb.


We know this.


It sits in the eyes of the beholden.

We are that destructive and menacing collective force.


The world will know us by our pain.

Our death will be our legacy. 

Creative Writing · Depression · Free Write · I Miss You · Melancholy · Poetry · Pondering · Writing

Free Write

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I considered calling you

I thought about all of the things you could say to me

To make me feel guilty enough

Into loving you again


I sat on a couch with another

All of the windows peering

Between him and I

Arms folded

I wanted to reach for your hand

But thought better of it

Remembered what you said about affection


I miss how you would hold my face

And smile so sweet and slyly

I recalled that feeling

Outloud and along the thorns

I bleed for you


Everyday

I look for the passion that rolls inside

Those substance induced

Moments

Of you fucking me over and over again

Until tears ran down my thighs

The wetness of your cheeks

A handful of hair


I can not seem to find this in anyone

Drunk strangers with their hands all over

They touch the small of my back

And I get glimpses

Of all the terrible things they would do to me

Like you


Flags waving through the icy crystals around the temple

Lights glitter among the horizon

I don’t know what they want

Or why you still call for me

Why the rains

Keep on pouring


I turn off my phone

I go on running

Broken Up · Creative Writing · Depression · Healing · I Miss You · Melancholy · Personal · Poetry · Sadness · Writing

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I am still in love with you.

Most days.

Even when I hate you and I know we are no good for each other.

I go only short amounts of time before you pass through my thoughts again.

My heart breaks every time I read your words.

I want to write back.

I would send you a thousand lines of the love I have for you… but I know your time is fleeting.

And I spend countless days in recovery.

I want to see you and hold your hand.

I want to walk in the rain and shoot shotguns at the night sky wearing nothing but the bad attitude that clings to people like me and you.

But I know I can not have my heart broken again and I can’t help but think you may be my broken heart.

I have you always.

Pulsating in the cavern of my chest.

I have felt you a thousand years and back.

Do you feel me too?

I have always wondered.

Am I a play thing, a fantasy, a destiny?

I cry out at night.

I wake up and you are still not beside me.

My heart lingers of that place where maybe you once love me.

I walk away from you, a trail of crumbs to my heart.

Creative Writing · Dark · Dreams · Free Write · Poetry

Nightmare

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It’s always you

Coming back in without permission

Invading my mind

You try to fuck me like the old days

And tell me i am overreacting

I watch you turn away

And disappear

This time her name is rachel

But i see her as a mirror

A compact i used to own

And i break her

In that porcelain bowl over and over

Then steal her and her money

It’s vegas

And were trapped in cars

Where i still can’t find mine

Shitting bags of vegetables

And ripping my skin off

Raw pieces i can not hide

Creative Writing · Melancholy · Personal · Poetry · Reflection · Relationships · Writing

Two Years

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I could talk about how on this day two years ago you broke me. How a piece of me was cut out, burned and brushed away.


I could recollect on leaning on that raw wooden post, a cigarette in hand but I won’t.


I will not talk about how you left me at my most vulnerable moment. Or how I yearned for any morsel of your affection to be told, “I never loved you.”


Seven years and a thousand lifetimes passed as you lived with the one you did not love.


Still, we will not remember such things.


Even on tonight when I sung along to the music that defined us, you and I. How we ran on punk rock, drunken nights, and playing lovebirds in the desert. The music and the wind runs through it.


This dead salty memory.


No, today I will recall how these things did not and could not defeat me.


How the darkness of one defining moment could not stop the sun’s rising.


Two years and I run from you like the horse in that field. The grass below my feet and the future a bold blue sky.


And even on tonight when I vow not to speak of you, I can not help but miss your presence. In the dark desert sands the music plays on.


Without you. 

Free Write · Personal · Sleepy · Writing

I saw your face and I cant help but cry

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All I want is for you to be okay, to be better.

To be anything other than broken.

But I know I can not fix you.

I can not try to put you back together while I am falling into pieces.


Please understand I want to, oh how desperately I want to hold you and listen to music and feed you.

I want to laugh.

I want to love you….but I just can’t.


If you could understand the restraint it takes for me.

To go one day then one more..

They don’t have AA for person addicts.


And I wonder how much more you could possibly break me. Surely there is another piece you could take from everything I have worked so hard to build.


I loved you and you told me you were not in love with me.

You left me for another woman and now you want me again.


What happens when you change your mind…again?

My heart is not a pair of socks or a hairstyle. You can’t just throw me out or clip me away when you feel the need. It’s not fucking fair. Or right.


It’s not about hating you, I could never do that.

It’s not about hurting you or seeking revenge.

It’s about loving myself, something I neglected to do and can not seem to manage to do in your presence. 

Creative Writing · Depression · Free Write · Poetry · Pondering · Writing

What am I?

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What am I?

A mass of memories

Firing between cells

Billions of rows of suffering

And multiplying by the wayside


What am I?

A cold person

Walking through the hallway

Down the street

Another face to pass 


What am I?

They called me a woman

Still I took off my shirt

They said the streets are for men

And that I would get hurt


What am I?

A soul wandering

Never satisfied

There is no home for those

That can not find comfort


And I know you will run from me…


What am I?

They asked

A five year plan

Or a family

These are the things you will be remembered by


Not by the quiet firefly

Or by the blades of grass you felt between your toes

Not the wind in your face

On the playground

Or in the field on your own


The sun will be the only one to remember your face

The billions of passerbys

Just stopping to say hello