PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

silent in a circle we eat,

to the tune of death and sin on a blaring TV.

we trudge upstairs and lay our heavy heads down.

or make quick love on a hard bed in a hard town.

he remembers a time when he wanted to stay up late,

and pushed away the prospect of sleep.

now hes so exhausted he can never seem to stay awake,

and he smiles-

those were a childs hopes, a childs dreams.



staring at the gray inside my room.

hoping it will all be over soon.

shouting at the god behind the moon

why am i here?



Stacy's on his bed in the coming night,

and when she's done, he says to leave.

He runs in the absence of moonlight,

in the unnatural orange glow of the street.

Was I naive?

Was it a childs wish, a childs beliefs?

I only want to be different...

for my life to have purpose...



staring at the gray inside my room,

hoping it will all be over soon.

shouting at the god inside my room,

why am i here?



We walk with our heads down on the sidewalk.

And avoid words of love, nonsense talk.

Suck it up, fuck it up, or fall right off.

Toughen up, its a cynics world, a starved love.

Lets make quick love on a hard bed...

in the glare of the TV spitting sin and death.

the unnatural orange glow of the city...

of your face as you go through all these years...

Your eyes seem stretched and plastic.

Cause your over tears, a childs hobby...

a childs hopes, and a childs fears.



staring at the gray inside my room,

hoping it will all be over soon,

shouting at the god behind the moon,

why am i here!?!



was I naive?

a childs wish, a childs beliefs?

I only want to be different...

for my life to have purpose...



he remembers a day when he wanted to stay up late-

but its so sweet, the prospect of sleep-

and he never wants to be awake.