Friday, February 26, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Overspray
I haven't done any graf in a minute. I still get that feeling every time I finish one of these. I'm no Mear or anything, but I really should do it more often.
Monday, February 15, 2010
(Valentines Day) Happy 66th Birthday Dad...
Twenty three years ago this year. It does seem like a lifetime.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Caring Is Overrated
This institution is bleeding from the mouth.
Of course the world sits in your hazel stained glass windows.
And the lurker sits near your house of boxes hoping to read your lips of what you may be saying to the white horse.
So you turn your back towards the reminder.
Not even realizing in your immaturity and believing that your life is a Taylor Swift album, that you aren’t the Prodigal Daughter.
You assume I still care.
The train wreck you are about to become is headed for your heart.
They all believe you are the surface.
But I know you intimately enough to know that you are everything I assumed you were when we first put the rugs underneath each other.
And to think I looked past your words of logic such as, “I voted for John McCain because he’s a Christian.”
I still looked past your excitement of having Bibles verses in your phone…while you let me call you a dirty little White girl with a father fetish and had you calling me your Savior and begging me to baptize you.
We are both charmers and liars.
We fooled each other.
He can have you.
No one is that special.
Thank you for the favor.
© 2010 D.B.
Of course the world sits in your hazel stained glass windows.
And the lurker sits near your house of boxes hoping to read your lips of what you may be saying to the white horse.
So you turn your back towards the reminder.
Not even realizing in your immaturity and believing that your life is a Taylor Swift album, that you aren’t the Prodigal Daughter.
You assume I still care.
The train wreck you are about to become is headed for your heart.
They all believe you are the surface.
But I know you intimately enough to know that you are everything I assumed you were when we first put the rugs underneath each other.
And to think I looked past your words of logic such as, “I voted for John McCain because he’s a Christian.”
I still looked past your excitement of having Bibles verses in your phone…while you let me call you a dirty little White girl with a father fetish and had you calling me your Savior and begging me to baptize you.
We are both charmers and liars.
We fooled each other.
He can have you.
No one is that special.
Thank you for the favor.
© 2010 D.B.
Only If Things Were Different
I worry about the iron bird somehow becoming wounded.
I worry about the misogynistic nature of a man’s circumstance.
I worry about you wrapping your nude silk body in a satin red ribbon and sending yourself to him.
I worry about if my father was alive now, how much would he be disappointed in my choices.
The glass shards of the human spirit can only mend itself with hope for so long, before the substantial inferno of defeat rises to the attic.
The dawn spring is coming and I have yet to erase the funerals of winter.
For as much convincing I can provide to the sadists, I have yet to remove the knives in the wall.
And I wonder how many ravens I can swallow before their beaks pierce my lungs.
I don't want amnesia.
I just want to leave your ghosts behind.
© 2010 D.B.
I worry about the misogynistic nature of a man’s circumstance.
I worry about you wrapping your nude silk body in a satin red ribbon and sending yourself to him.
I worry about if my father was alive now, how much would he be disappointed in my choices.
The glass shards of the human spirit can only mend itself with hope for so long, before the substantial inferno of defeat rises to the attic.
The dawn spring is coming and I have yet to erase the funerals of winter.
For as much convincing I can provide to the sadists, I have yet to remove the knives in the wall.
And I wonder how many ravens I can swallow before their beaks pierce my lungs.
I don't want amnesia.
I just want to leave your ghosts behind.
© 2010 D.B.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)