when will on the porch as I sit and read Pessoa will the mail man deliver a cast for my broken heart….?
“its youre own damn fault kid, suck it up
I am ready for the love between 2 I see all around me
and yes the glorious sex i see that they have as well
to be mine and sacred and devine
i have served my internally beaten sentence for all
hearts I have broken, and I am ready to love selfless
without a molecule of jelousy to be floating amongst
such beauty I in the past….
I am not the one who invented the term second chance
simply one of those would be nice to again see behind the shades
and not to be bleeding from regretful blades
oh, portland will you give me some ease
from the long days of sleeping and regret
i have still to find from where it comes?
this poem is not for you, and yes it is a poem
i will not denounce the beauty of it being such,
just into the universe as i pick and the addict in
me regret i resent so bleeds to never heal, just only
one simple question: when will you stop?
i know the ones who hate me so that may read
this shall repeat
“oh, poor little fucking you, you bastard”
well, i’m sorry. for everything i did
you should know my heart beats with love
and regret for every thing I have done to hurt
if only you saw me on my front porch convulsing
the self resentment out as if my soul wimpered
for all I have done…
though you have seen enough of me
you have heard enough