Sta.sh
| Here's what I've made lately. I post my better stuff up here; everything else goes on my sheezy account. |
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Another Coming-of-Age Story They pushed your little red bike,Another Coming-of-Age Story by ~myaen
momentum gained - you grew -
the little trumpet player who knew
by heart the concert score;
now just say "okay," "alright,"
because the playgrounds are gone
so you don't know where to go,
'cus you're not a kid anymore.
You still remember when
brokenhearted you
screwed off the training wheels,
rode, fell, but rode, knees sore,
and today sucks too
since you stopped wanting him or them,
stopped soldiering on, somehow
had what you had and wanted "more."
You've seen the sunset set
and leave you alone just like
you told it to do;
you bought the gloomy decor;
of course you struggled
like they sa
To Date Walked streets, a tone,To Date by ~myaen
one knee bent, a moan
and he is the spare tire
trying to make it alone;
while the man waits on
a saint, patient - gone -
mistaken - spine-sore,
he runs, fumes, along;
and I am the selfish damned
girl-child pretending,
preening in the mirror
for the next-in-line,
careening, hoping for
the dregs in time
to save his life and mine.
Staccato Effimero Millions of human voices,Staccato Effimero by ~myaen
all tin, timbre, and tears,
twist together in a chorus
of desires and fears
forming foggy hands that grasp
tentatively out
into the crowds all crying,
sighing, fighting off their doubt,
curling up their human fingers
as they beat against the ground,
rioting and cursing and
addicted to the sound,
sweating out a rhythm as
their limbs complain and ache
and dying to be free of this
before their bodies break.
Their human hearts are strained,
they are but made of twigs and clay.
Their blood fights, too, to push on through
and hold the grave away.
But mortal coils do shorten
as the copper turns to rust
| Here's what I've made lately. I post my better stuff up here; everything else goes on my sheezy account. |
Attraction 
can you hear me, angel?
