I see the broken souls
Of once proud lovers,
Now hiding under covers
Of hate and neglect,
Why would you turn against
Someone you respect?
Start shouting bullets
To pierce their self esteem,
Jabbing their hearts,
So you can have them
Bleeding in their dreams,
But you still bruise in yours.
I won’t spend my time
Casting anger in the air,
Hoping my words draw
Out someone’s tears,
I won’t harbour the hate
That I don’t even have,
While pretending their love
Was something I never had,
Just cherish the memories,
And make many more.
Some people are able to tell
That I don’t wear my glasses as
often as a should, and well…
The thing about these corrective lenses,
Is they show you everything.
The things I want to see,
And the many things I don’t,
Quickly become clear to me,
Yet I know that I really won’t
stop taking them off now and then.
Faces and places that I just
don’t care enough to want to
remember yet I know I must
make use of this tool, because…
Well glasses cost money.
When I see some I
can’t help but feel a sort of sickness,
When I see the old it’s like
Life is everyone’s terminal illness,
Which is good considering…
When I can’t see these things,
The interest in the unnecessary dies,
My mind’s effort goes to thinking,
Long as I can still see the blue skies
I’ll let everything else remain a blur.
Looking in the mirror into my eyes,
My image multiplied,
Split into several angles,
From the cracks that divide
The glass toward the centre,
Keep staring and I try
To make sense of what I see,
In glass so sharp it makes my eyes bleed.
Shards of my face fall to the floor,
From the inside, a shattered core,
The reflection I had slowly fades,
As the glitter of the glass begins to pour,
But when the last fragment fell,
I couldn’t see myself any more,
So much at that time I learned,
From the liquid sand that burned.
“Why do you like her?
Is it her skin or her hair?”
That’s not enough to capture my stares.
I’m drawn more by her flare.
“Speaking of stares,
I know why you want her,
The breasts in her shirt
and the ass under her skirt.”
Won’t lie, those excite my girth,
But that’s never worth
The attempt of a flirt
To leave her in tears.
“So what is it then?
You men want one thing, sex.”
Of course I want sex,
Everyone wants sex,
I’m human, what do you expect?
Not just man, but human,
And those oh so rare men,
Who enjoy the personality of a good woman,
Are very much here, very much left.
But I like her because I can.
As a man, I can.
Don’t like they way they crawl,
From under my sheets before the dawn,
Emerging when I sleep, biting my feet,
If I catch you I’ll show you my claws.
Bloodsucking, little and slow,
Hiding away while you grow,
Wish you would come when I’m awake,
So I could squash your legs for show.
Your bites won’t even draw tears,
So don’t mistake this challenge for fear,
Come on out, I won’t bite like you,
I’ll be waiting here.
My mind spends more time with you,
More time than I ever do,
It’s always much easier in my head,
Things we do there,
We may never do here,
In real life.
And it’s not like I never see you,
And I know you see me too,
But we never have anything to say,
Not to each other,
We never even bothered
To say hey.
I can’t maintain the stares,
Gazing from your toes up to your hair,
But I keep looking away,
Whenever you look my way,
My legs need to get me over there.
My imagination stands between us,
Perfect images of love and lust,
But before the fantasy dies,
I’d like to tell you with my eyes,
That I think you’re gorgeous.