Candle burning,
Flickering flames,
Achy joints and a broken heart.
Burnt out wannabe bitch,
Artsy gifted loser,
Head swimming with regret.
Limbs crossing limbs,
A heap on the floor.
Tantrum, tired and tear soaked.
Whiskey sipped neat,
Words scribbled messily,
Canvas notebook open on hardwood.
Desk covered in bottles and ash.
Chanting and hoping,
Never quite manifesting hope.
Tortured artist mentality.
Maybe this let down will create a bestseller.
Scribble scribble, type type, sip sip.
Scribble, type,
sip,
sip,
sip.
Singing Fleetwood Mac criss cross applesauce on the bathroom floor,
Forehead pressed against the toilet seat,
Cold porcelain cooling feverish skin.
Must silently die to create art,
Must make it past 27,
Avoid the curse at all costs.
Wake up at 3am,
Vomit and brush your teeth.
Start all over again.
YOU ARE READING
Does the Rain Ever Stop?: Poems and Musings
PoésieHello Reader, This is my collection of poems and thoughts that I have compiled over the last few years. I have been writing for many years and my number one hope is that someone reads my poems and feels seen. Says "oh that's me". We all live in this...
