Where has that classic romantic gone?
The one that writes lines of poetry on paper, on skin
The soulful sway of the heart, taking out time to separate
Away from the world
Within the world
Like the feel of music under the skin
In the veins warbling its majestic tune against the chilled goose-flesh of feeling
The heart on the sleeve
On the chest
In the mouth.

Gravity its working against me
Taking away my breath
Collapsing my wild heart under the suffocating weight
Of that ragtime dime
That jaunting beat of social feet
Pulling me against the current

To a colder tune
Something somber filled with the lonely blues.

Don't get caught on my edges
Thin and brittle
Sliding in and out of the skin with ease
Bleeding me out
Stitching me back in
Like porcelain cracked inside
Holding under the surface
The lines of despair.

Freedom comes with its own disappointments
Trapped in the truth of exhibition
Drugged on the sublimity of an ideal
Shadowed by the lines of a cage
The bird sings gaily
Intoxicated on the ****** of the self.

It follows close to my mind
Infecting those around me
The faces that grew me in one way or the other
Its metastatic narcolepsy filling the world with silence
Like to many candles in the wind
Blew out the breath's light
Snuffing out the beauty of living
Haunting, lingering in the edges
A hope battle that is over before it began.

i'd never felt such
cold hands
grab hold of my heart before,
and i'd never known it could
shatter into so many pieces.
            and i'd also never seen a
            sweeter man come along and
cut his perfect hands to shreds
             by picking up the pieces
and putting my heart back together again,
             *just
             to
             watch
              it
              beat

There is beauty in negative space
Between the lines of your face
The absence voidless pockets of empty space
There is peace in the decluttering of nothing
Like stillness it is sometimes needed to tip the scales towards a healthy mind.
Listlessly I find myself seeking it
The vibrations of too much clutter
Has the stutter of insecurity
Too loud
Too close
Feel cloistered in the corner
Like herded cattle trapped within the walls of society.