pleblderblerbmerbcschrb

pleblderblerbmerbcschrb 17h

AOW

Blood filled ears between the trees,
gaze deep in canyons below.
This is meant for me as hand arises
once one asks
“Who’s first?”

Dauntless? Perhaps not my claim,
but not a jitter in the knee
when falling back and forgetting to question,
worry, think or ask.

This is meant for me,
but where might one find thrill like this
in Texas?

#adrenaline

pleblderblerbmerbcschrb 3d

Boulders in Me

My muse,
My teacher,
My arrow,
Dead star.

Please be so joyous, wherever you are.
Or one could convince the solution is me,
and in my weak arms isn’t where you should be.

This could be untrue,
my heart knows how to lie,
but you really did strike as a beautiful guy.

And not with your looks, that you fought with so bad -
in the soul of your eyes, a spark you always had.

My muse saw my pieces more clearly than me,
and left me to find out what beauty could be.
Just to detest and claim crippled and frail.
It’s not up to my muse,
yet feels like a fail.

See, many have views on what we should or not,
but self shame I shan’t towards the longings I’ve got.

pleblderblerbmerbcschrb 3d

I’m Here

You’re not,
or perhaps you are.
The update has been rescheduled for years now -
the system is beyond laggy.
Inexpressible grief engulfs
my heart seeing how beautiful
the place is
you left me to be.

#co

pleblderblerbmerbcschrb Jun 9

Open Contact

I’d write a poem
about how irritated my gums are,
but the pain is far too consistent
for me to be cute about it.
There’s a tiny man
living between my teeth,
hacking away at my gums,
and the wretched dentist made it worse.
So here I sit,
23 going on 57,
requesting a dentist appointment as I drink mules and watch men argue over solids and stripes,
unaware that a blue collar worker is making my gums throb.

pleblderblerbmerbcschrb Jun 5

The Father

My best friend loves God a lot,
and I guess I do, too,
but it’s been a while since we’ve spoken,
and I’m not sure if he thinks about me as much anymore.
Nobody thinks we’re friends because I’ve made some decisions that divvy from what I might’ve been born to do,
but maybe he’ll understand I’m not a marriage counselor,
and my existence was never going to keep my parents together.

pleblderblerbmerbcschrb Jun 5

Perfectionist’s Paintbrush

The best thing you can do for an artist
is break their heart.
The creative thrive when grasping for life,
when they’ve shut out the world and all
that’s left is a pen and paper,
or ivory keys to be brutalized.
The worst thing for a creative
is to confuse good with bad,
and God with themselves -
to start controlling more than they bleed
onto the canvas as they hum into the air.

pleblderblerbmerbcschrb Jun 5

We’ll Likely Never Intersect so I Play With Insects

If you were to marry,
I’d sit in the crowd,
but not with others amongst the pews.

I’d stand far away -
in the grass with the bugs,
and ponder of me and you.

They’d crawl up my legs,
and I’d scratch at my thighs -
then squeeze gently like you used to do.

Wondering what could have been,
perhaps better if not -
something slick I once thought was glue.

Now you’re not my lover,
a kinship I feel,
but my heart is still beating in blue.