His Dark Art

Whispers of his knife were simple and sweet; Until he found my heart.

Before I could react, he repeatedly stabbed me

Until his knife was stuck in my chest.

Taking a seat and collecting his thoughts…

He dragged my body over to his canvas,

Grabbed his brush and began to paint with my blood;

Painting the truth of his illustrative deceit.

No Regression

The love we once had is missing

Always remaining a kiss from killing

Out for blood, painting one another as a villain

How do we go back to friendship?

When everything has fallen
You kick me while I’m crawling
Leave me alone, bawling

How do we go back to friendship?

You lie, cheat, beaten me deep

Constantly in pain, hard to sleep

Your mark on my life, I’ll always keep

How do we go back to friendship?

The scars are too infected to make amends

There’s no time traveling after everything ends

So, how do we go back to being just friends?

There’s no going back, no do-overs, no re-entry

ZANE

Words piercing the brain

Spoken with the intention of pain

No armor and no restrains

Paper thin skin, covered in stains

Trying to let go, but still remain

No freedom from societal ball and chain

MY LIFE

Struggle with blending in

Eyes piercing through your skin

Everyone can see you

... the imposture

Silence as they watch you

Like an exhibit in the zoo

Hard to hide behind glass

... the imposture

Magnifying your mistakes

Trying your hardest to do whatever it takes

But, never will your accomplishments receive praise

... the imposture

Forever an imposture…

What keeps me from sleeping?

Life keeps me from sleeping.

Not because I worry about life, but because life worries me.

It vomits its difficult experiences on to me and expect me to just clean up the vomit without me asking any questions afterwards.

But I do ask questions*, and when I do … life likes to change the subject.

Life gets so annoying sometimes.

It likes to gift me pieces of undesired thoughts and emotions.

That cause my brain to over think because my heart is too intoxicated by life's gifts.

Its withdraws are pretty intense and when it relapses, it becomes a mess.

Life keeps me from sleeping.

However, Life doesn’t stop me from daydreaming.

I Paint With My Voice (Haiku)

Voice is a paintbrush.

Canvas of the world is white.

Deep strokes of passion. 

I paint day and night. 

Exposing imperfections, 

turns darkness to light. 

Spreading words of choice, 

for all those who need to fight. 

Give inspiration. 

Writing is the painting of the voice ~ Voltaire 

If You Bought A Piece Of My Mind

 Just by giving me a penny for my thoughts, I’ll give you at least a nickel of my mind.

I promise not to go over a dime, but it’ll take about a quarter of your time.

What I have got to say may not be worth a dollar.

However, you were the one willing to pay a cent for an obviously pointless vent.

So, may I suggest next time, for money well spent,

instead of you paying me for your time, I’ll just pay you a piece of my mind.