InkBoy's blog: "CemetarySoundPoetry"

The House

Last December
I let go of hope

What is hope, but fear
In disguise?

A rusty swing tied to the
Branch of deception
in my own

 
Back
Yard

Vicious
Relentless

I too abandoned
those shitty houses

And littered streets
that never held my hand

 
Under broken
Neighborhood lamps

I paint myself,
into a mural..

An emancipated doorway
Renovating the dry walls
Of my wandering illusions
 

I 

Am

 
Pleased

Content with my disease
and desire

My feet firm and cracking
This empty foundation

Wont be long til I
change our tomb linens

These dirty crayon stained
Fingers embracing

 
the crimson bookshelf of my soul

We burned December down