*this is a poem from my friend Miami (www.twitter.com/MiamiLPanema) in honor of Jimi Hendrix...check it out & leave feedback*
Pull Heads
Turn off the Lights
Psycho...Delic Trice
Spinnin.....
Ghetto Ways
Excuse me, while I kiss the sky.
Blast me
Try to see if I'm ok.
But all you do....
Is drive my trains
Into,
Tunnels that's stoned
Its too late to tell me right from wrong.
Between.
What was a strong of love.
Sex me baby
Wit all your songs.
Singing
Lasted for one night
Now I'm back to say that I'm still high
Hendroxikayted
Tank hunt of mentally
Algababrated
Souls one immortally
NeoFoxADrankTea
Sultextatry
Speak english to me please....
Pull Heads
Turn of the Lights
Psycho...Delic Trice
Spinnin.....
Ghetto Ways
Excuse me, while I kiss the sky.
Fog formin in my eye's way
My 3rd view is saying to infiltrate.
A new wrong.
But I want it out my way.
How something so good,
Can take away my sane
Saturday, October 24, 2009
2003-2007 Previews - The Room Pt. IV (Curtain Call)
Black suit on,
black tie,
white shirt
with the lipstick smeared...
left collar.
It's been a while since our lips kissed here
Been a while since she let her guard down...
dismissed fear for the sake of making love.rain...
dear.
Went from every day feeling like December 25th,
the most special time of the year...
to my reality being brought down to ground Zero:
the world's crashing and burning around my ears...
I left everything I cared for...but all signs point back
to here...this room with so much history etched in,
like a desktop showing who I love...sketched in pen.
I survey the room...no sight of her...
except for the pile of clothes on the floor,
and the hanger marks, but of course...
a trail of love's paint in the direction of the window?
I admit...I am caught off-guard for once in life.
My mind has already put together the scene,
I just wish it wasn't starring my wife.
Slow stalking steps toward the cherrywood frame
bloody fingerprints smeared on the pale yellow walls...
surrounding the window in which life turned into fallacy,
and the end of the beginning turned concrete, became.
There was no need to look out and downward;
Already knew in my mind she was long gone...
She was enamored with what's out the window,
every bird to fly, every moonrise, every dawn...
Perhaps I was caging her in, trapped in this room,
A Romance Doomed, an spiritual demise to 'us'...
or the actual sunrise of distrust shone strong
to eradicate the lonely nights of togetherness?
Nevertheless, she's free now...didn't use the door,
it would have been too much like a failed audition;
a Hollywood Divorce...
You walk out knowing that it's all said and done...
and there's only regret from both parties left over.
Well, this is the end of my scene.
I'm all dressed now,
well-groomed and high-strung
rope's irritating the neck,
had no idea how it stung...
the Sun shines bright on my waves,
swinging back and forth
above a kicked-over chair
where my still body sways...
this is the Honeymoon,
we should toast to life now.
2003-2007 Previews - The Room Pt. III (Out The Window)
I can feel another presence in this space.
As if the person were RIGHT.HERE...
wrapped up in her feelings...or
wrapped up in our dealings.
I drove her and myself to crazy...
right within these four walls.
There are scrapes on the floor,
multiple scratches on the door..
all so deep, that the room began to bleed.
This is where I spent my time...
minutes, hours and days...
locked in, just us two...
sizing each other up,
trying to figure out one thing:
who's the victim?
There's no escape for one of us...
as good as dead here.
Worst part is, this room brings out the best...
...and the worst of regrets and fears.
and the only way to rid of them,
is throwing them out the window.
But even that idea's out the window,
because no one else deserves that...
won't rely on help to break my wall.
Can't bear down on someone...
like a blazing September Sun,
breaking my Fall...
Now it's all out the window...
and everyone now knows...
like a too loud heated convo,
and it's nobody's business.
Trapped in this room...
with HER, no less.
Life is grand, I suppose
because she cares...
and I could have ended it,
by throwing it all out the window.
But I didn't...
But I still have that option.
Nightmares.
Every day leads to a nightmare...
and nights ease into nightmares.
The Sun is shining...
But that's just Hell peeking in to make sure I suffer.
At night, the moon shines...
so I find reason to drink
and dull the thoughts
that the moon is just God turning her back on me.
This isn't a movie:
if She's walking off, I won't call out...
Foolish pride is unscripted,
and far less dramatic,
causes far less static...
at least in my fabric.
Everyone's supposedly cut from different cloths...
so I keep my mind naked and wide open,
to share my unadulterated thoughts.
I run into things I didn't see coming,
the pain causes tears...
my eyes cry open.
I close my eyes and run into things
that I thought I had finally escaped.
So I open my eyes...
Try to save myself, no one else wears the cape
only to awake to
another day full of nightmares
and nights ease into nightmares.
The Sun is shining...
But that's just Hell peeking in to make sure I suffer.
At night, the moon shines...
so I find reason to drink
and dull the thoughts
that the moon is just God turning her back on me.
This isn't a movie:
if She's walking off, I won't call out...
Foolish pride is unscripted,
and far less dramatic,
causes far less static...
at least in my fabric.
Everyone's supposedly cut from different cloths...
so I keep my mind naked and wide open,
to share my unadulterated thoughts.
I run into things I didn't see coming,
the pain causes tears...
my eyes cry open.
I close my eyes and run into things
that I thought I had finally escaped.
So I open my eyes...
Try to save myself, no one else wears the cape
only to awake to
another day full of nightmares
2003-2007 Previews - The Room Pt. II
note: My next few posts will be some previews (in a sense) for what to expect from 2003-2007. For those who know what I'm talking about...yeah, here's a peek at some stuff I was toying with in assistance. Don't worry though, the ones I post won't be in the book...[warning: It's more of a dark themed overall feel...but perfect timing in regards to feelings.]
*this is some dual poem shit in a sense...the slash is the divider. First line/lines are the male, the secondary line(s) are the female. It all takes place in "the room"...as they both are in there at the same time, silence being deafening.*
We descended back down here in Hell so suddenly; it's unreal...
*this is some dual poem shit in a sense...the slash is the divider. First line/lines are the male, the secondary line(s) are the female. It all takes place in "the room"...as they both are in there at the same time, silence being deafening.*
We descended back down here in Hell so suddenly; it's unreal...
Things used to be high flying like a dove, felt like Heaven's dream/
I remember being on Cloud 9 at all times when waters stood still;
suddenly the room was engulfed in flames, something I've never seen..
Now I feel myself isolated, outside of the feelings she's all caught up in,
trying to peer over the wall that's been formed to defend against me/
I somehow feel trapped within my own defense mechanism against him,
but I've always left the door unlocked for if he ever tried to step inside...
This is a game of chance that I'll have no parts of...it shouldn't be like this,
going to bed with poker faces on, only to wake up protecting our hands/
I always sit up at night and stare at my reflection in his wedding band,
maybe it's me who's complicated things; maybe it's not just the man...
I can't take this, I'm grabbing my jacket to get some much-needed air...
Everytime I look her way, she's always seemingly gazing out the window.
Fine, I'm tucking my heart; no Valentine...grabbed the handle of the door,
looked back one last time...no goodbyes./
I couldn't find the words to make him stay when I saw him grab for his coat,
so I did what I've been trying to do to what's holding me back: let go...
We've both got our demons, but he's seemingly vanquished his & reached out
Attempting to help me...but it's not that cut and dry; I'm needing an escape route.
Her:
So here we are, alone yet again...
just me and my own worst enemy...
I cannot think of anything else to do,
other than grab the clothes hanger...
and make a fortress out of clothes,
to defend myself.
-end-
Thursday, October 22, 2009
2003-2007 Previews - The Room
note: My next few posts will be some previews (in a sense) for what to expect from 2003-2007. For those who know what I'm talking about...yeah, here's a peek at some stuff I was toying with in assistance. Don't worry though, the ones I post won't be in the book...[warning: It's more of a dark themed overall feel...but perfect timing in regards to feelings.]
*this is some dual poem shit in a sense...the slash is the divider. First line/lines are the male, the secondary line(s) are the female. It all takes place in "the room"...as they both are in there at the same time, silence being deafening.*
This room isn't big enough for the both of us/
This room isn't big enough for the both of us...
The sunset shining I see out the window is an example,
a symbol if you will...of the dwindling hope for us/
The sunset shining used to easily draw my attention;
now it serves as a distraction so I can forget about 'us'...
This wooden closet...if it were to hold all of our problems,
it would need an infinite amount of hangars and shelves/
He's looking at the closet in a transfixed state...
as if he sees every one of his skeletons before him...
Look at her, judging...assuming...and I thought she was the best of them,
turns out she's AGAINST ME...she's simply just like the rest of them/
I have no idea where his mind has gone...where the man that was so ALIVE,
so eager, so IN LOVE has gone...to leave me with this shell of him...
I've spent countless hours in this very room, walking on this oak floor...
wondering where it went wrong, why it went out the window.../
Little does he know the days that I've sat in the middle of this floor...
surrounded by clothes strewn everywhere, tears fell somewhere...
The heels on my Oxfords making scratches as I turned and wheeled,
back and forth...pacing away to a suicidal soundtrack in my mind.../
..scrapes I've created in the wood, from the hangars I've clutched,
when self-inflicted pain was my crutch...bloody Merry in a sense...
It's why I always folded up her clothes she left haphazardly on the floor,
it gave me something to focus on...take my mind away from the window/
He always seemed so concerned with why I was mopping and waxing the floor,
I swear he saw the scrapes from me...but never said a word; anything...
(to be continued)
*this is some dual poem shit in a sense...the slash is the divider. First line/lines are the male, the secondary line(s) are the female. It all takes place in "the room"...as they both are in there at the same time, silence being deafening.*
This room isn't big enough for the both of us/
This room isn't big enough for the both of us...
The sunset shining I see out the window is an example,
a symbol if you will...of the dwindling hope for us/
The sunset shining used to easily draw my attention;
now it serves as a distraction so I can forget about 'us'...
This wooden closet...if it were to hold all of our problems,
it would need an infinite amount of hangars and shelves/
He's looking at the closet in a transfixed state...
as if he sees every one of his skeletons before him...
Look at her, judging...assuming...and I thought she was the best of them,
turns out she's AGAINST ME...she's simply just like the rest of them/
I have no idea where his mind has gone...where the man that was so ALIVE,
so eager, so IN LOVE has gone...to leave me with this shell of him...
I've spent countless hours in this very room, walking on this oak floor...
wondering where it went wrong, why it went out the window.../
Little does he know the days that I've sat in the middle of this floor...
surrounded by clothes strewn everywhere, tears fell somewhere...
The heels on my Oxfords making scratches as I turned and wheeled,
back and forth...pacing away to a suicidal soundtrack in my mind.../
..scrapes I've created in the wood, from the hangars I've clutched,
when self-inflicted pain was my crutch...bloody Merry in a sense...
It's why I always folded up her clothes she left haphazardly on the floor,
it gave me something to focus on...take my mind away from the window/
He always seemed so concerned with why I was mopping and waxing the floor,
I swear he saw the scrapes from me...but never said a word; anything...
(to be continued)
2003-2007 Previews - Amnesia
note: My next few posts will be some previews (in a sense) for what to expect from 2003-2007. For those who know what I'm talking about...yeah, here's a peek at some stuff I was toying with in assistance. Don't worry though, the ones I post won't be in the book...[warning: It's more of a dark themed overall feel...but perfect timing in regards to feelings.]
Stumbling around the kitchen,
eyes glazed, drunken stupor
but the pain hasn't numbed a bit...
it just seems to have gotten more intense.
Intentionally falling head-first into the counter-side,
in two ways you could say I'm trying to cut corners...
because my amnesia is seemingly defective,
subjective...
I wish that it was at worst a little bit selective...
So here I am, enjoying being drunk off of liquor
but suffering from sobering heartbreak...
Trying the transferrence of pain trick,
bumping my head to shape my brain up quick
in hopes of some type of major memory loss.
Maybe then I could be happy, if I could only forget
the stories told to me without blinking or stuttering,
with eyes wavering or muttering,
trying to rebuild a foundation on some MAC lies...
Making others suffer for my own pain was never my intent
So I just keep banging my head...hoping to one day forget.
Stumbling around the kitchen,
eyes glazed, drunken stupor
but the pain hasn't numbed a bit...
it just seems to have gotten more intense.
Intentionally falling head-first into the counter-side,
in two ways you could say I'm trying to cut corners...
because my amnesia is seemingly defective,
subjective...
I wish that it was at worst a little bit selective...
So here I am, enjoying being drunk off of liquor
but suffering from sobering heartbreak...
Trying the transferrence of pain trick,
bumping my head to shape my brain up quick
in hopes of some type of major memory loss.
Maybe then I could be happy, if I could only forget
the stories told to me without blinking or stuttering,
with eyes wavering or muttering,
trying to rebuild a foundation on some MAC lies...
Making others suffer for my own pain was never my intent
So I just keep banging my head...hoping to one day forget.
2003-2007 Previews - Stargazing
note: My next few posts will be some previews (in a sense) for what to expect from 2003-2007. For those who know what I'm talking about...yeah, here's a peek at some stuff I was toying with in assistance. Don't worry though, the ones I post won't be in the book...[warning: It's more of a dark themed overall feel...but perfect timing in regards to feelings.]
It's all in the eyes...
That's where I always saw the spark
The light strong enough to brighten all of my days
Bright enough to keep the dark thoughts away...
Now all that matters is decayed,
So my thoughts turn grey
Like her hair will never be,
And the tombstone at her grave.
You were helping me find myself...
Left me without a map, and all by myself...
Can't muster up the courage to just die myself...
Just to meet you; so I just sit in the dark and cry...
By myself.
It's all in the eyes...
That's where I always saw the spark
The light strong enough to brighten all of my days
Bright enough to keep the dark thoughts away...
Now all that matters is decayed,
So my thoughts turn grey
Like her hair will never be,
And the tombstone at her grave.
You were helping me find myself...
Left me without a map, and all by myself...
Can't muster up the courage to just die myself...
Just to meet you; so I just sit in the dark and cry...
By myself.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Hiatus.
Not the name of a poem, it's just what it is for the time being........................okay, maybe it's the name of a poem too. But this is the last post for a while...I've got a few things to put work into and focus on.
HI.
The greeting always feels like 'goodbye'.
Maybe it's the reason behind rhyme...
or maybe it was only a matter of time.
Either way, my appetite's gone...
been a while since I last ate...
EIGHT.
That many nights since insomnia re-appeared...
making fun of my intentions,
and pouring gasoline onto my biggest fears.
Been hesitant in making my decisions...
especially the ones concerning me and you, here.
US.
We, you and me, 'he plus she'...
whatever you address, just be sure to call...
so I can put a voice to the writing on the wall.
The ominous messages telling me it's time
to take a hiatus, leave each other be.
HI.
The greeting always feels like 'goodbye'.
Maybe it's the reason behind rhyme...
or maybe it was only a matter of time.
Either way, my appetite's gone...
been a while since I last ate...
EIGHT.
That many nights since insomnia re-appeared...
making fun of my intentions,
and pouring gasoline onto my biggest fears.
Been hesitant in making my decisions...
especially the ones concerning me and you, here.
US.
We, you and me, 'he plus she'...
whatever you address, just be sure to call...
so I can put a voice to the writing on the wall.
The ominous messages telling me it's time
to take a hiatus, leave each other be.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
While I Wait...
The yelling was less deafening than the silence.
As much as I used to cover my ears,
I'd keep my hands at my sides now
if I could get the yelling back.
I never knew the extent of the fights,
just that it was a battle of wits,
mixed with a contest of bitch-fits,
and topped off with a "Fuck you"...
all for good measure I suppose.
The talks afterwards were the worst though.
I felt like a witness on one of those TV shows,
where two detectives take turns in the room,
asking odd questions and making statements...
like, "You know this has nothing to do with you, right?"
and, "We both love you very much baby" to me.
Of course, this was always after another argument,
where I would be sent to my room in the afternoon
or can't come in the house when I'm outside playing...
so I learned to just wait until the music turned down,
the backdrop to their curse words and insults...
the instrumental that never drowned them out,
the same music that I wish were playing right now.
If the music were playing, and the shouts were starting,
I'd know that we were here. together. a family.
and that they still loved each other...
I take that back; They still tell me they do,
just not enough to work it out I guess,
and of course, this has nothing to do with me.
But somewhere in my mind I misconstrue:
and think that they want nothing to do with me.
The weekend exchanges...I felt like a UPS package.
Both always trying to out-do the other,
but it seems that it was never ME they had in mind.
More questions...
"Did your father buy you those brand new shoes?"
"I bet your mother wouldn't let you stay up this late huh?"
"Your father doesn't bring any other women around you does he?"
"You would tell me if your mother has strange men at home, right?"
One day, I just packed up my book bag
with as much stuff that could fit
as many snacks as I could carry
and the blanket that my mom and dad always used...
and I left.
I left because I don't like being in the middle.
I left because I don't like choosing who's right.
I left because I don't know what went wrong...
I left because it was no longer "us"...
it was "me and her" or "me and him"
and I just want "us" back...
so I left it up to "him and her"
in a note titled "While I Wait..."
As much as I used to cover my ears,
I'd keep my hands at my sides now
if I could get the yelling back.
I never knew the extent of the fights,
just that it was a battle of wits,
mixed with a contest of bitch-fits,
and topped off with a "Fuck you"...
all for good measure I suppose.
The talks afterwards were the worst though.
I felt like a witness on one of those TV shows,
where two detectives take turns in the room,
asking odd questions and making statements...
like, "You know this has nothing to do with you, right?"
and, "We both love you very much baby" to me.
Of course, this was always after another argument,
where I would be sent to my room in the afternoon
or can't come in the house when I'm outside playing...
so I learned to just wait until the music turned down,
the backdrop to their curse words and insults...
the instrumental that never drowned them out,
the same music that I wish were playing right now.
If the music were playing, and the shouts were starting,
I'd know that we were here. together. a family.
and that they still loved each other...
I take that back; They still tell me they do,
just not enough to work it out I guess,
and of course, this has nothing to do with me.
But somewhere in my mind I misconstrue:
and think that they want nothing to do with me.
The weekend exchanges...I felt like a UPS package.
Both always trying to out-do the other,
but it seems that it was never ME they had in mind.
More questions...
"Did your father buy you those brand new shoes?"
"I bet your mother wouldn't let you stay up this late huh?"
"Your father doesn't bring any other women around you does he?"
"You would tell me if your mother has strange men at home, right?"
One day, I just packed up my book bag
with as much stuff that could fit
as many snacks as I could carry
and the blanket that my mom and dad always used...
and I left.
I left because I don't like being in the middle.
I left because I don't like choosing who's right.
I left because I don't know what went wrong...
I left because it was no longer "us"...
it was "me and her" or "me and him"
and I just want "us" back...
so I left it up to "him and her"
in a note titled "While I Wait..."
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
...in the dark.
...in the dark.
Meet me there.
Doesn't really matter what you wear,
don't care what fragrance you choose,
It'll be just me...and you...
in the dark.
Let me learn of your beauty
without using eyesight
so if I were to ever be
blinded permanently,
never again to see light...
I could still see you,
in the dark.
Allow my fingertips to trace
the very outline of your existence
until I've got it down-pat,
with my eyes closed...
so even as I sleepwalk,
I wouldn't miss a step
on your body's trail...
in the dark.
When your vision adjusts to the night,
search for me...let me feel your stare
so that I can know where to look
in a room full of hundreds of eyes...
It will be your glare that lights
those despondent days
when the sun doesn't act right.
Love me to your fullest potential,
hold onto me in the dark...
as if you were to lose me
if you ever let go of your grip.
And I promise to do the same,
in the dark, or the light.
Meet me there.
Doesn't really matter what you wear,
don't care what fragrance you choose,
It'll be just me...and you...
in the dark.
Let me learn of your beauty
without using eyesight
so if I were to ever be
blinded permanently,
never again to see light...
I could still see you,
in the dark.
Allow my fingertips to trace
the very outline of your existence
until I've got it down-pat,
with my eyes closed...
so even as I sleepwalk,
I wouldn't miss a step
on your body's trail...
in the dark.
When your vision adjusts to the night,
search for me...let me feel your stare
so that I can know where to look
in a room full of hundreds of eyes...
It will be your glare that lights
those despondent days
when the sun doesn't act right.
Love me to your fullest potential,
hold onto me in the dark...
as if you were to lose me
if you ever let go of your grip.
And I promise to do the same,
in the dark, or the light.
Changing Seasons
Maybe I'm the reason,
and was in search for the rhyme
or
perhaps you were the season,
and didn't see the change coming.
What was thought to be the long haul,
in essence turned into a short trip
and now we must embrace anew...
A new beginning
after an ending
that in fact,
I knew about.
She's changing...
can no longer see her sons
under the same unified light.
We're changing...
trying to emerge out of
the darkest part of the night.
Your season has changed,
for the better I'd say...
others may beg to differ;
we season things differently.
True, you no longer have any more spring to your step
but you're not suffering through these Chicago winters
Summers just won't be the same without the baseball games...
but you suffering through life is all that's on my brain...
so fall peacefully, into eternal rest...
and enjoy the season's change.
and was in search for the rhyme
or
perhaps you were the season,
and didn't see the change coming.
What was thought to be the long haul,
in essence turned into a short trip
and now we must embrace anew...
A new beginning
after an ending
that in fact,
I knew about.
She's changing...
can no longer see her sons
under the same unified light.
We're changing...
trying to emerge out of
the darkest part of the night.
Your season has changed,
for the better I'd say...
others may beg to differ;
we season things differently.
True, you no longer have any more spring to your step
but you're not suffering through these Chicago winters
Summers just won't be the same without the baseball games...
but you suffering through life is all that's on my brain...
so fall peacefully, into eternal rest...
and enjoy the season's change.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
When You Speak...
When You Speak...
an ear twitches...
intrigue is perked
eyebrows raise
thoughts halt
attention is paid
a life is changed.
When You Speak...
old folks share a chuckle
children dance
men nod in approval
women smile genuine
doors open to hearts
you are invited in.
When You Speak...
people adhere to your verbs
lives are spared
children are born
families unite
people stop fighting
people start writing
Masterpieces are created...
just behind your words.
When You Speak...
the atmosphere changes
life becomes less dangerous
the Earth keeps spinning,
but it has you in mind.
When You Speak, you wield a great power to make positive changes. Imagine the impact if you were to act...
an ear twitches...
intrigue is perked
eyebrows raise
thoughts halt
attention is paid
a life is changed.
When You Speak...
old folks share a chuckle
children dance
men nod in approval
women smile genuine
doors open to hearts
you are invited in.
When You Speak...
people adhere to your verbs
lives are spared
children are born
families unite
people stop fighting
people start writing
Masterpieces are created...
just behind your words.
When You Speak...
the atmosphere changes
life becomes less dangerous
the Earth keeps spinning,
but it has you in mind.
When You Speak, you wield a great power to make positive changes. Imagine the impact if you were to act...
Long Distance...
Long Distance relationships are hard.
The distance between me and her is crazy...
more miles than I care to count on a map.
We talk thru text while both watching our favorite show;
I watch from the comfort of my couch at home;
she tells me she's watching from her bed.
We never talk TV; we discuss 'you and me',
'us' stuff...and how 'we' can solve certain things.
I wonder if she really laughed when she typed it...
I can't hear it so I'm doubtful.
She says she misses me...I don't know though,
if I only had her hug to reassure me...
or a kiss to remind me...
She probably feels the same,
but little does she realize how I suffer
how I use work as an escape to take my mind off
because when I sit at home it works overtime...
Hopefully soon we can be together
this is slow murder to me...
it hurts but not enough to die;
it's driving me crazy like papercuts...
if all of those were placed on my heart,
and salt mixed with alcohol were poured in...
like I said, not enough to die
but at times I wish I were dead.
Show's off...now she's ready to talk
says to call her in a minute and 17 seconds...
a minute sixteen, her name's on the screen
of my phone, while on TV is BET...
As I wait for her to answer I hear our favorite song
drum in my ears, 'Simply Beautiful' penned by Al Green.
And as I daydream about a love far away from here,
her answer brings me back to life...
back to the reality of how we are swimming in love,
but when we are sad it feels more like we're drowning.
Typical convo...neither of us say much...
I can envision her sitting on the bed
laying on her stomach, left arm props her head
right manicured hand on the phone and such...
I get a call from my job, "I'll hit u right back"...
Swear, in my ears I could almost hear
the frustrated closing slam of her flip phone...
Turned the TV off, room is all black...
Get off the line with my boss, call back...
'Simply Beautiful' fills my ears again...
always to the same part before the pickup:
"...and I'd expect a whole lot of love outta you..."
Hurts my heart every time to hear him say that
it's like my Love Trial's a movie and he's the soundtrack
When I call, I hear the phone ring...
...and her ringtone for me...
That reminds me why I shouldn't be calling...
We're in a long distance relationship in the same house
but there are prices to pay when you strike your spouse
the body heals fast, but there's no timetable
for wounds of the heart and the mind
the abused is now the abuser,
and it serves me right.
The distance between me and her is crazy...
more miles than I care to count on a map.
We talk thru text while both watching our favorite show;
I watch from the comfort of my couch at home;
she tells me she's watching from her bed.
We never talk TV; we discuss 'you and me',
'us' stuff...and how 'we' can solve certain things.
I wonder if she really laughed when she typed it...
I can't hear it so I'm doubtful.
She says she misses me...I don't know though,
if I only had her hug to reassure me...
or a kiss to remind me...
She probably feels the same,
but little does she realize how I suffer
how I use work as an escape to take my mind off
because when I sit at home it works overtime...
Hopefully soon we can be together
this is slow murder to me...
it hurts but not enough to die;
it's driving me crazy like papercuts...
if all of those were placed on my heart,
and salt mixed with alcohol were poured in...
like I said, not enough to die
but at times I wish I were dead.
Show's off...now she's ready to talk
says to call her in a minute and 17 seconds...
a minute sixteen, her name's on the screen
of my phone, while on TV is BET...
As I wait for her to answer I hear our favorite song
drum in my ears, 'Simply Beautiful' penned by Al Green.
And as I daydream about a love far away from here,
her answer brings me back to life...
back to the reality of how we are swimming in love,
but when we are sad it feels more like we're drowning.
Typical convo...neither of us say much...
I can envision her sitting on the bed
laying on her stomach, left arm props her head
right manicured hand on the phone and such...
I get a call from my job, "I'll hit u right back"...
Swear, in my ears I could almost hear
the frustrated closing slam of her flip phone...
Turned the TV off, room is all black...
Get off the line with my boss, call back...
'Simply Beautiful' fills my ears again...
always to the same part before the pickup:
"...and I'd expect a whole lot of love outta you..."
Hurts my heart every time to hear him say that
it's like my Love Trial's a movie and he's the soundtrack
When I call, I hear the phone ring...
...and her ringtone for me...
That reminds me why I shouldn't be calling...
We're in a long distance relationship in the same house
but there are prices to pay when you strike your spouse
the body heals fast, but there's no timetable
for wounds of the heart and the mind
the abused is now the abuser,
and it serves me right.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Mathematics of Love
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