love

new pavement

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

There are the heroes of passion,

thrown from failures or successes

with an indiscriminate valour

unaffected by the shallow hearts that plague us all.

Life,

for them,

is lived with the bullets of hate

grazing hearts on sleeves

no armour could defend.

Death,

for them,

an indifferent act suceeding

every other event that came before

without special cause for distinction.

The truly great come through bearing

no gift particularly

but in making no demands

brings gifts greater than any else offered.

A friend is not a friend solely because of geography

a connection made through similar hobbies

or one night of great intimacy or affection conversation.

Pause.

Examine your connections in the world

and then despair,

because only despair is applicable

when life is compared to this ideal of great friendship.

Who are you,

and when did you stop caring,

or calling?

The two-way street analogy is out-of-season,

not out-of-touch,

and while South-bound is a traffic jam,

the North,

a lane to nowhere,

fast,

appears as new pavement.

I beg to keep or kill

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

A hand

in the distance

turn your head

you can see it

I know you can see it

you can see something

or is it just the reflection

in the mirror that binds you?

You can see me

or at least feel it,

somewhere in your bones

your heart skips three beats

light-headed now

but you can see me,

can't you?

Anxiety

can you see me?

I could have sworn you

winked

blinked

stopped

stared.

Can't you see me,

or feel,

well, anything

for me?

The deperation takes me by the throat,

raw, yellowed, finger nails shake into

dirty, exposed flesh

re-opening old wounds

or emptiness and bitterness,

directed at no on in particular.

I remember this,

I would beg you all over again

just for a taste of your conversation.

A fleeting surface talk,

of nothing important,

or to have you open me up – 

we could releases some demons together,

chooe which to keep

and which to kill,

maybe we could kill each other,

or learn how to hold

and keep

love.

Please,

open me up.

A simple definition for the ever-burning question of love

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

Something stagnant,

 but comfortable,

and safe.

 

Something taken for granted,

chokes and fails,

giving way to,

nothing of value.

 

Something appreciated and nourished,

gets back up,

with every fall,

and won't die.

 

Boredom battling,

against an ideal of novelty,

scarcely acknowledged,

never understood.

 

Take it from a man,

who has survived many trenches,

nothing comes easy,

but something breaks easy.

 

Progress is possible

resistance is not futile.

a description of love

/ andyveilleux / 4 Comments

My fingers break the intangible air,

I imagine

victory,

or some sweet defeat,

breaking point,

the blood of the sky

pouring down my

assailant hands

sweet liquid

invisible

but I feel

it.

 

I imagine your

loving but cold

hands

rubbing

all the sore spots

on my broken back

from too many nights

up screaming at life

trying to manipulate it

like i did all those poor

sad broken

left-behind

people I used to

feel so close to but now

we all float apart

drifting satellites

each shaking away

violently,

with lovers on our backs,

and fake lovers grasping

at flailing legs

growing more distant.

 

A humble comet,

burning up slowly,

no longer alone.

A dead connection

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

A dead connection,

struggling to stand on the horizon,

like a dead, hollowed-out metropolis;

once great, strong, and teeming with life

and love,

now thew blood has gone,

the face is pale.

 

Three years,

two,

what does it matter,

when you dance on the scythe

of a midnight sky

alone.

 

Your toes drag,

peeling skin leaving crimson,

on powdery white-blue acrylic skies.

 

The artist's brush paints

and captures a sadness inconceivable

to the human eye

but captured nonetheless.

 

Wrapped hands stop

red red waters of life

from deserting you

in a fight you've lost

for too many years.

a beast and a gentleman

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

I haven't even managed,

to hit my full stride,

yet.

I'm already your favourite beast,

and maybe,

favourite gentleman.

 

The image is broken.

 

The thoughts of me,

and my best moments,

fell from your ears and shattered;

a mountain ridge of memories,

piled on the cold floor,

passive,

on cracked, dry concrete.

 

You're broken,

and I know,

because,

I broke you;

you never had a chance,

or a shot in hell.

 

Don't worry,

dry your comatose eyes,

you're finished but there are,

certainly worse things in life;

not death.

 

I stole your core,

the package of life,

that represents you,

keeps you breathing,

and I ate it gladly with,

my smiling hero jaw.

 

I didn't leave a loiterer,

I fought for my territory,

but you were too strong,

too well-armed for my weak,

shameful,

display of force;

I grapple with inner demons,

that have worn me down for years;

NOW IS YOUR TIME.

 

A train clangs along,

the tracks of your hatred,

a rock on the rails,

shifts the weight,

and the train tips,

ever so slightly,

but not finally.

 

A rusted train penetrates,

a midnight sky of lost hope,

there is nothing else.

as long as you breathe my ghost

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

My willpower slaps you,

with all my bad intentions,

tearing down your resistance,

in one fell swoop.

 

You'll never forget me;

I broke you apart,

to make you whole.

 

You're better than ever,

better than you ever were,

now that you're without me.

 

Only one line was true;

my ghost will be your curse,

for as long as you breathe.

love me for this

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

Don't love me for my character,

my charm,

or my wit;

time will rob me of them,

or distort them so badly,

you won't recognize me.

 

Love me for this,

these words,

they live forever,

and are as much of me,

as my wit, charm, or character,

and maybe they are even more.

a ship that sailed with a smile

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

The light shoots out of the bulb,

like fire from a cannon into my skull,

I roll over in agony, defeated,

I cover my face with your pillow,

it smells like you.

 

"Oh, baby," the kid voice comes out,

I feel a warm body jump onto me,

press me with your light weight.

 

The soft, wet kisses find my neck,

and I love you then.

 

Soon I fall back into a dream;

my mind moved on, 

the smile stayed;

that ship sailed.