We Won’t Even Remember (poem)

So very conscious of the moments passing.

Each one bringing about a massive change

That I’m too weak to react to

Or too strong to be affected by.

Connections falling apart, but I’m so calm

As if I’ve fully understood what being is about

Mine, and yours too.

Where do we go from here, you ask?

Everywhere. We go everywhere.

Until right now becomes a distant memory,

An almost forgotten past,

When we won’t even remember how we drifted apart,

When we won’t even remember what this was.

Only a distant dismal memory.

Birthday (poem)

What a sad time of the year

When people gather round to clap around a cake on flames.

Singing a song that’s only conventional

With happy faces that don’t really care.

A mere duty, it is, it seems.

Sitting in a crowd of those who claim to love you

Pretending to love them just as much

While all you can think about is the moment this will be over,

So you can go home and lay in your bed alone and cracked

With disgrace of another year that will never come back.

It will never be remorseful of the pain it contained.

What a sad time of the year, indeed,

When people gather around a wreck of a person that I am.

Singing a song that that has been sung to me twenty times before.

With faces that pretend to care.

A mere duty, it is, it seems.

Wreck of a Town (poem)

What a wreck of a town

With buildings so tall and deep.

Some painted over cracks,

Others ragged with chipped paint.

Broken windows and locked doors.

Dead grass lawns out-front

With bodies buried underneath.

Bursting with the all the stories it contains,

Its empty roads lie to the visitors.

“You don’t belong here in this ghost town”.

“No one belongs here,” said the stonewalls as well.

They leave, they all leave.

Oh, what a treachery!

The concrete fence gets stronger

With the crumbling structures inside

In the land deserted for miles.

Maybe someday I'll save this wreck of a town that I am.

Feed On Me (poem)

Come feed on me.
I lay here, waiting for you.
Feed on me, you merciless bird.
I lay here for you.

You perch at the window sill
Staring at me with a dead face.
Always lingering a bit longer than before;
Never really crossing the threshold.

Come feed on me.
I lay here, waiting for you.
Come, you, feed on me.
I lay here defenseless for you.
Rip my flesh apart,
And make me bleed.
Pick on my bones,
No, I won’t scream,
Finish me off,
For they won’t let me.
Don’t worry about the pain,
You won’t be causing it.

Come feed on me.
I lay here, waiting for you.
Feed on me, you merciless bird.
I lay here for you.

Cynicism (poem)

Perched behind a wall of cynicism,

Hoping for a love that will never be.

The trapped bird almost ceases to believe

In the magic of union of two souls

Kept away for far too long, for far too long.

Scared to hold its breath for promises

That will never be made in time.

It lets go of hope and learns to breathe misery

Until its insides are rotten enough for the worms it once fed on

Behind the wall of optimism.