Categories > Original > Poetry3 Reviews
Pull out those vocal chords and now tell me you're sorry.
maybe we could detect the most thoughtless of efforts
we're sorry, your call cannot be placed.
when fear is the last hope for a starving youth
the money, give me your fucking money!
and the apologies are so far behind you, dear callused sinner
yeah, you were the only one always leaving dinner
you were my hopeless friend
my accidental reader
but as you play with the words and toy with the paints
it's hard to breathe in your art
you're the sucker for a droopy beat
the lies through platic stereos
they drop you a line
but you don't pick up the phone
where did you suffer to? oh won't you please talk to me...
i know you don't want to end something too deep
go back to just being fucking normal
is this it? do you want to starve in puddles of your own vomit?
you don't care about more complaints with your living
you pick up the phone and hear the deadbeat rings
"sing me your saddest songs, boy, tell me how broke you feel."
i don't hear you because i can't reach you
your comedic voice has stopped being soothing
and you cough up peaceful riots in your charming mind
how to fall? what a pitiful excuse for a song so sweet
so near and dear to buy me a casket
to bust a joint and take me back there
going too far? how come so fast?
did you wish to read my ending lines?
as peacocks stretch your unreal toes
i wish for my own selfish truths
ones that i promise to break
don't you cry for me, dear father
and lay your head on my fireflies, mother
for i will be home by the spring
under earth's catastrophic sun
this is the reason i can't talk to you
this is why i hear so much
and hurt so bad
because foregone phrases are far to cliche
for my kind
the words that pause through your restless heart
end in misread happiness
hey, girl, eat away my sorrows.