Heavily irradiated historian developing my writing career. You can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, & Instagram. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
It’s more important to press pen to paper Before the thoughts disappear into vapor But an aberration of the mind Like the clocks chiming
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Like coffee and cigarettes Unfiltered and raw Is how I draw the thoughts from my mind Sometimes it’s the only way I can unwind
Unfiltered and unflattering A little of this A spattering of that I always write off the cuff There’s not much time to think about it
The mind sees what the eyes refuse to see The road to hell is paved with well behaved slaves Constructing staves to save my mind
You’re my hedonism Your kisses have saved me From my isthmus of sorrow You indulge my whims And I hang on your words Forever tied together
I used to imagine your face I used to look for you in every place I used to wonder what you were doing But then I realized it was all a waste
You look at me askance As we dance To the limerence in each other’s eyes Sometimes I see what’s on your mind But I promise, there’s no lies
Life is full of risk But sometimes I really can’t believe some of these people actually exist What is wrong with them
No one needs to know What goes on Between the hum and the song We’re all searching for a place to belong Even if sometimes it feels wrong
Sometimes you have to move on To find what you’re looking for Was it in the cabinet? No. The drawer? Oh well I’ll find another one
Which is the real me The one they see Or the one I see when you’re looking at me Distorted images in my mind Having never known what I look like to the world
Sitting here In silent isolation. Waiting. Longing for your return Expecting a call from you everyday Never more shall I hear your beautiful voice
