With a heart upon my sleeve.

typewriter

I love hard and hurt deeply;
Sometimes I have to write my mind
On a paper and burn it
To avoid bleeding to death
Internally.

BB

 

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War of the Words

Sticks and stones
may break your bones
but words can massacre you.

Pulled from a quiver
like arrows they deliver
a perfect execution.

Then the infection to fear
that can last up to years
sometimes you never heal.

So if I am threatened
with words or with weapons
I’ll chance it against the stones.

BB

We Should Not Be Comfortable

One day the sun stopped
shining in the sky.

Every major city burned
pyres of wood so they could see.

When the logs ran out
they used dreams instead.

The dreams lit up like horrible
beautifully efficient infernos.

We were so fucking hollow
once our dreams became ash.

We were paper thin but we told
ourselves that at least we were warm.

We sacrificed our ideals and dreams
lest we might become uncomfortable.

BB

To anyone feeling a little lost, I am right there with you.

I am an elevator midway
between one and another floor
just another lost soul with one
foot in and one out the door.
I am every single stupid
damn glittering metaphor
of a heart beating restless and
hands that can’t help wanting more-
an aching whimper when
I am used to being a roar!
But how do I begin the
future I know is in store
to stop being a line in a poem
and become the stuff of lore?

BB

Flight Material

Just a fun fact that I’ll
share with you tonight
is that I pack novels
on any given flight;
it’s a little bit funny
and I can tell you why
I care about what I’m reading
on the off chance I will die.

If the plane should crash
and the ground it will hit
I think I will be grateful
that I wasn’t reading shit.
I’ve had some sketchy flights
full of turbulence and dips
but it comforts me to know
I’d die with Vonnegut on my lips.

BB