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Off The Dome sometimes i scramble looking for words,
ramble, wanting to be heard, plain.
feelings of being slain,
like that song, or like you don't know my name,
like the game,
we all play it and portray it as the truth.
like holding on to your youth,
or going in the booth,
spitting it, hitting it with full force,
release like having intercourse,
after years of incarceration.
like sweet penetration before you realized the condom slipped, helpless.
loving the hopeless, knowing it ain't right.
the fight, i mean the war,
like the chore of keeping yourself off the verge,
not wanting to snap,
feeling like life is a mistake,
a mishap.
going up in smoke like my dreams.
tears cascading down cheeks like streams,
lovingly as they are placed into the earth.
the explosion of pain kinda like giving birth.
grief seldom brief, everlasting
casting aside all that's grand,
sitting in the dark,
face covered by hands.
wondering what the hell am i gone do?
who can i run to?
noone or nothing,
suffering in solitude, an attitude displaced.
misused, abused, and replaced.
disgrace, not leaving a trace of a grin.
not having the courage
but sometimes i like to pretend.
