Vital Signs
23 Mar 2011 Leave a Comment
in Poetry
I’m pressed for time
But I’ve been here for hours
And I hope to god you’ll be siting there
Across from me when the time is right
Everything will blur into a vast color spectrum
The smell of sour notes will turn to sweet religions
The counting of blessings will no longer be to a minimum
Your heart will set this world on fire
Dust and ash will replace our coffee shops
Tears and sorrowed cries will fill the streets
Like sirens screaming towards burning buildings
There are no heroes in this story
Only victims
Hallucinogens and crippled brain cells
Will feed the mourning souls
Drunk with passive aggressive tendencies
They will perish in emotional existence
Falling to their knees as the bottles in their hands clank against the pavement
Face down they are consciously dwindling in their sick habits
Tragedy struck the fear of the already dying men
Their brains like fertile animals
Waiting to soak up the chaos
Feel the power of their lives dramatically change every thing they had built up to mask all forms of moralistic fiber
I sit and watch the earth bleed with depression
Soak up the soil with the constant struggle of my time spent
But I’ve been here for years
And I hope to god you’ll be coming here
To take me out of my misery
