Saturday, August 20, 2016

RIP Kimber

Goodbye language of love.


I hardly knew you,
yet grew fond of the idea that you'd help me become something out of reach.


I guess that's why they call it the blues.


These days, ambition and drive have slowly subsided.


Time drags on,
leaves begin to fall,
and the attention span of everyone, anywhere, flounders.


RIP Kimber.


Just when you were getting somewhere.







Thursday, August 11, 2016

A Voided Letter

Sasha,

I hope everything's all right.

I thought of you today while brushing my hair. Pieces of me have begun to break away and flutter to the ground. My nails have hardened and split, while my legs grow weak. I gasped at the piles of skin I've left behind and yet, realize it is long overdue. After all, if you inject as much as we have in our veins, a bodies bound to break. 

You were the only one who understood it though. Our out of body highs that pushed us that much closer to Nirvana. It almost seemed like a race.

You never believed in the after life anyway. Why would you? Of all the terrible and benevolent things you've experienced in this world, how could some god sit back and allow it all to happen?

The void.

That is what I'm most afraid of.

An empty pit of nothing, where your thoughts, fears, and love cease to exist. I can't wrap my head around it. If that's what death means, then why bother with the human race? Something brought us into this world. It sure as hell doesn't make sense that when we pass, there's nothing.

Sometimes I sit on my porch, reflecting on all the things I've accomplished in life and cry. Not because I'm unhappy or sad. Mostly because you've beaten me at the one thing I was sure I would accomplish first.

I love you dear friend.


I hope to see you real soon.

-B




Tuesday, August 9, 2016

Party Girl

Sweat creases under the black and blue rings,
creasing under my eyes.

A vein throbs and pulses,
as neon catapults across the fog.

How quickly we forget where we come from,
as music shakes the cum stained vinyl tiles
of queens from by gone eras.

Many nights were spent,
partying
puke,
rinse,
and repeat.

Don't we all yearn for that youthful high?