Thursday, August 8, 2013

Hole in My Pocket

There's a hole in
my pocket.
Its a sweet
cool thing,
there's a hole in
my pocket,
it lets me do my thing.
I have an itch at
my thigh,
didn't know
how to get it,
but now
I'ma lucky,
coz there's
a hole in my pocket.
I put my
finger through it,
and wiggle ,
it around
its a sweet,
cool thing,
hole in my pocket.
Its my own
secret door,
like in
the victorian era,
its makes me
feel so cool,
this hole in my

Tuesday, March 26, 2013


The chair creaks
the sound echoes
in the silence of the room.
The sound of
my pen
scratching away
at the paper
is loud,
and daunting.
Word after word
I write
and word after word
I cut,
nothing seems good.
Restless, I feel,
the words locked
inside of me.
Wanting to get out,
but not being able
to do so.
Hidden from me,
my words abandon me
in this time
of need.
Silence surrounds me,
suffocating me,
strangelling me.
Like a noose
around my neck,
tightening with
every passing minute.
I scramble for
and my words.
I feel like a
ticking bomb,
waiting to explode,
at any moment.
But still they hide,
beneath their hidden perch.
My words, oh words,
where have you gone?
Come back to me,
I promise
to fully pay my respects to you, and
I will
pay my dues to you.
Just come back.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013


you waited too long,
and now its too late.
the time is up,
the countdown is over,
the finish line is in sight,
the end is near.
like pulling
a rug from
underneath me,
you took me
by surprise.
unsure of my footing,
the ground is wobbly
beneath me.
like standing on
the edge of a
one slip
I fall.
into the looming
but I will
find my
and i will be stable
and i will take
that leap
and fly down,
and i will swim
to the

Monday, March 18, 2013

Her Corner

There she stands
at a street
In fish-net stockings
a miniskirt
and a dirty white tank
showing off
months of grime.
Her fingers
hold a smoke,
though it
doesn't get to her
dry lips.
When I pass by,
her lips form
into a teasing,
and what she hopes to be
a flirty smirk.
But it doesn't reach her eyes,
her eyes
tell a different story.
Heavy and dull
they tell her story
because everyone's got one.
There are circles under them,
dark purple,
they speak of long
and sleepless nights.
Her hair fall
and her body thin,
her clothes
barely holding up on her
The street is
but I watch her.
Now that no one's here,
she throws away
her smoke
and her shoulders
Now that the street
is empty,
I watch
two tears fall
on her dirty tank,
soaking the cloth.
Someone comes up
and she stands
no sing of tears
except of the two dots
on her dirty
Slowly, she walks with him,
back straight
into the light of the
But her eyes
lose their light
and I watch her
until she disappears
around another corner.