trading

It would be nice,

To get back things we’ve lost,

But they are not coming back,

No matter how hard you try.

We’ve bartered them off,

Little pieces of ourselves,

For hopes, regrets and ventures,

Or purposeless endeavours.

Terms of trade were not read,

No returns or refunds.

We got every worth our while,

Till all that’s left is,

A dry empty husk,

With nothing to give.

random stuff overflow valve.

put the phone to my head,

deep breathe and take the call,

forgot every word she said,

but my brains are on the wall….

 

 

closets

weep the silence,
the ties that burn today,
what resilience,
their eyes that look away.

the empty halls on lunar eve,
you have no balls to mend the grief,
only spite to stoke the coals,
only pride to break whats whole.

rise the closet bones to war!