Giving something up is easy,
when nobody else wants it.
There's one true sentence about humanity:
You don't want what you have,
until someone else is after it.
This applies to money,
women,
drugs,
cars,
and everything else.
poetry
King Kong, Dorian Gray and a hungry squirrel
Your arrows don't hurt me,
intentional or otherwise,
they strike my thick hide,
and lose all momentum.
I'm strong enough now,
after all my incredible failures,
and the moments I could have,
died.
I'm rebuilt,
reborn,
reanimated.
I'll read it like a script,
because I know who I am,
as much as anyone can.
I've become something,
changed,
difficult to capture;
a lightning snake,
as thick as the moon,
with the strength of King Kong,
and the audacity of a hungry squirrel.
A moral compass like Dorian Gray's,
slowly changing,
but for the better instead.
You won't understand,
anything I've written,
but it's not about you,
now or ever.
a ship that sailed with a smile
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.
Sleep
A warm haze is stuck in behind my eyes,
my body begs for sleep that won't be granted.
Sleep,
it begs me,
from behind the curtain,
of a distant dream I've yet to have,
sleep.
I
w i l l
n o t
s l e . .
Words trying to escape
There are words trying to escape,
and they must be watched at all times,
carefully.
Imagine what they would do,
if I wasn't around to watch them,
organize themselves on the pages?
What secrets would be revealed,
and what mysteries would they tell?
Oh,
how the skeletons would dance,
for all of us,
despite our consciously spun life stories,
where we never feel responsible for the evil.
Hidden monster
Sad, sad monster,
keep your head down,
turn back inside of,
yourself.
Sad, sad monster,
keep your voice down,
don't rise up too loud,
again.
You must hide,
and remain hidden,
they don't understand.
There's a big shock coming,
or a dosage of dull candies,
to make you right as rain,
It will destroy all that pain,
and make you normal again.
Trust in me,
my dear monster,
there's a flood coming,
it's pouring through the ceilings,
of all the skyscrapers,
penetrated by broken shards,
of dreams,
that tear apart,
the roof of your mouth,
and scrape your retinas,
grind your scalp,
gut your brain.
Only left,
numb.
meandering rivers in a shower
I sat at the bottom of the shower,
hot, cleansing water poured on me,
rivers were made through my leg hair,
meandering down my sky-bent knees;
the water dripped off of my nose,
my eye-lashes,
my memories.
Some decisions are too hard,
and must be made for you.
The trap
Something broken,
nothing fixed,
there's a tear,
in everything.
Stagnant air lingers,
suffocating your mind;
you beg for something new.
The trap is sprung;
you are now the working dead;
deceased thoughts from a corpse,
are all that remain.
The house never wins anymore
I used to walk,
calmly,
on wires,
formed of the sharpest,
and strongest toxic metals;
brilliant.
I used to charge,
unprovoked,
through walls,
made of powdery,
bone-dry concrete;
unstoppable.
I used to stumble,
drunkenly,
through life,
weaved from broken,
and shattered dreams;
failing.
I used to be somebody,
you’d remember,
when the chips were down;
the house never wins anymore.
telltale love
A divine comedy dances,
on lines etched into flesh,
long ago by the crimson beauty.
A foggy mirror reflects,
beams of radiant moonlight,
through the evaporating tea and milk,
we used to drown all of our problems.
There's no cycle here,
no spinning wheel to,
repeat the same story.
There's nothing to reinvent,
no foundation for this to ride on,
and no carriage pulled by wild horses,
symbolic of our deepest desires and dreams,
now withering and dying in the cracks of love's floor.
No heart beats,
beneath floor-boards,
of cryptic, rotting elegance,
to alert the proper authorities.
Something is screaming,
deep within my soul however,
and I'm begging for an outlet;
It will die between these lines.
Andy Veilleux 