Thoughts, rotting away in a wasted mind
through a worthless life
weaving in and out of cautious lies
Intimacy, gathering dust
on this frozen mattress
Manufactured and condemned
Born inside my fractured sleep
Insomnia is where I weep
Loneliness darkens my mind
Sacred voices that are not real
In this toxic garden of wilting roses…I cry out upon numb ears
Weeds crawling, ever so slowly, winding their way up the rusted trellises of my burdened mind. Will you water the dying Siberian Iris? Or will you allow dehydration to commit murder as you did all the Fiber-Optic Grass? Heat from an invisible sun creates fatal droughts in this deathbed called my soul. Pretty Toxic Maids all in a fucking row. As the sunflowers get overtaken by thousands of swarming bees so do all my forsaken and forgotten dreams.
I hear something
Can you hear it?
There been a suicide here!
I can hear the remnants of a battered and shattered imaginary love jumping from a bridge of chaos and self-destruction. Splashing headlong into a sea of hopelessness. Pass me down that life preserver and then coolly walk the fuck away.
The Death of a Springtime hobby
and the slaughter of a Summertime Love
@Timothy Grassan/Purple Night Poetry