File 160042099715.jpg - (1.31MB , 1200x630 , iDONOTownthisimg.jpg )

Reflections tract in on a solemn heel
Sight through a window with aperture for ire

Where focus faults along retractions of your mirrored panes

Stare to the silt sunk frozen on the sill
A collection of contempt for the cold exterior

Breath condensates weaves of cumulative beads

And Braid a blanket to smother reconciliation

(OP, one of mine. Please share your poems people)

>>6531
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I am sad
and so are you

Once in school

I took a class

It's all about power, he said

So I left, and never went back

The weak breeze whispers nothing
the water screams sublime.
His feet shift, teeter-totter
deep breaths, stand back, it’s time.

Toes untouch the overpass
soon he’s water-bound.
Eyes locked shut but peek to see
the view from halfway down.

A little wind, a summer sun
a river rich and regal.
A flood of fond endorphins
brings a calm that knows no equal.

You’re flying now, you see things
much more clear than from the ground.
It's all okay, or it would be
were you not now halfway down.

Thrash to break from gravity
what now could slow the drop?
All I’d give for toes to touch
the safety back at top.

But this is it, the deed is done
silence drowns the sound.
Before I leaped I should've seen
the view from halfway down.

When risen butterflies were dead,
I ate the wonderance with bread
And drank the butter that I thought
Was part of me – the bitter cold.
The lovely eyes aroused twice
And blinking endlessly on face,
That hidden whole beneath black hair
That filling all of starry space.
Will meet again in some a day,
In some of form or even live,
The wind will rise and fear will fly.
Goodbye, my love.
My love, goodbye.

To Live
To try to fly
Only to Die
Life is a lie

I wondered through old Vicki's green
A wretch and only half a thing
My quest to shine the marquis specs
Boots full of puss and rank with sweat
Saw the girl sat in the booth
Stopped and pondered at her youth
She gawker and shot a shit faced grin
That bitch was full of heroin
Conscious of the finely clothed
Noble folks on London Road
I found my place and settled in
Paid tribute to the sovereign

To get to heaven, go up at least seven*.


*90% of falls from a seven story height are fatal. So if you're looking to commit suicide by fall, you'd have to fall from at least the seventh floor to do it.