mymindwrites

A topnotch WordPress.com site

Month: December, 2016

In a strangers car headed to some hurried location,

I smell of whiskey and lust.

The sky is clear from the storm that left nothing but one day of wet sidewalks.

I hear music but I’m in my own mind. Nothing but wishes for tomorrow so I forget to enjoy right now..

I’m anxious about being social tonight. 

I smell of whiskey and lust with no one to share it with

Advertisements

Blowing Away

There is a storm growing outside my window.
I’m afraid he’s going to blow us away.

The trees even seem scared of him.
They are quieter than normal.
Their leaves move, but I hear
no sound.
They look different, unfamiliar.

There is a noise from the storm.
thunder

He’s letting us all know he’s here.
He is his stronger than normal.
He is angrier than normal.

I’m here to leave a mark

he says.

The trees are afraid of him.
Don’t let him blow us away.
I’m afraid
I’ll have left no trace

if he does…

At 3 AM

There is a woman who sits at the end of my bed.

She sits so still,

as if not to disturb me.

She sits but it is not concerning to me.

She is tall and thin,

her hair is too dark to see in the black of 3 AM.

She is not groomed,

her nails so long you have to notice,

so long you can almost feel them on your neck.

I can feel her seeing me.

We both sit silently during the night.

I can feel her seeing me.

She starts to move,

she starts to hum.

The tune is new to me.

It is a melodic remedy to the silence this room holds.

She hums louder.

She goes.

i forget everything and all i can do is follow…

So now,

in the black of 3 AM,

here we sit,

silently at the end of some other persons bed.

Toast

I stood, leaned up against the counter in the silent kitchen..

Eating peanut butter and grape jelly on toasted white bread like some sort of toddler..

Before that I sat around playing games and wasting my precious time while wondering why I was alone on a Saturday night..

I think, Apathy is my best friend while dreams of tomorrow’s motivation move me..

They say the eyes are the window to the soul (or somethin like that) and tonight mine are dry with exhaustion acting as the drapes..

and I submit to every passing night I spend alone as if something better may one day emerge but I really don’t know that it will..

Except this toast.. I think I’ll make more toast.. And be content in the quiet.. 

Good night..