LimeinthaCoconut

I havn't been around the block Not even once, but I look out the door. The corner's right there, the coast is clear My eyes are open, but I'm hating the chore. No reason to stop now, put it all up to risk now. So put your money down, put your neck on the table. You're feeling so hot now, you're calling the shots now. Switch things up, you gotta shake that label.

Emotions erupt With the throw of a gold ring Family shatters.

It's fair to say Owen was a loner. In fact, loner is probably the nicest thing that he's been called. He's never held a job, and he's never been married. The closest person he has to him is his daughter, and even she has kept a distance for much of her life. He's found friendship in alcohol binges and 16 hours in front of the television. "Life is easy only when life is planning on how to mess you up later". Owen heard that often in his childhood, and didn't believe it until he was an adult. His alcoholic binges and lack of exercise caused his liver to fail. He twisted and turned at night of fleeting regrets of his shortened life. After waki

I stand in a forest Askew from the world. The trees act as a fortress The leaves and the soil are swirled. A man-made swing Balances on an untouched oak. The harmony of the bird's sing. Clashes with the chained swing's croak. With closed eyes for ambiance I balance myself and sit. I slowly feel an audiance Yet, I second guess my wit. "May I sit on the swing?" My eyes awaken from my trance. "Of course, I apologize..." My eyes begin to glance 'Where is she?' my brain can't analyze. Does the forest have words? I left the swing to the wild. My footsteps as loud as chords. Violent, yet mild. I leave the forest Askew from the world. I know my

Is Romance as pure as the title it beholds? Every rose has a prick Every dove has a freckle. We can stay up and worry about how negative we are. Or, baby, we can get some sleep tonight. Do tainted hearts bleed pure blood? I know my heart is tainted, but why expect that much? I'm perfect at least 23 hours of the day Is it humor or is it irony that you're the one to see the hour I regret. I'm sorry about the promises that I forget to keep. I apologize for my rudeness in front of your friends or parents. I could focus on what you do wrong, but of course I draw a blank. Not because you're perfect, but because you're perfect enough. So please, l

I sit in a forest askew of the world, untouched by society and unmarked by man. I lied, of course, you cant go anywhere in California where its completely desolate, aside from private property. There lay a path obviously marked by ware of bikes or hikers, and there sits a lone tree with a lone, rotted swing attached. I walk over, and sit on the swing that faces towards whats seems to be the most perfect part of the forest. Every part of the forest seems perfect if you look at it long enough. I close my eyes, and breath and hear the world around me. Relying on every part of me to feel at home in this forest. What was that? A brush? A snicker?

Some blame me for the sum of their troubles. I'm the whiner of wine parties, and burst social bubbles. So I sew up the opinions. And I present my presents. The prose in poetry are pros compared to my rubble. But then some bawled after reading my bald poetry. My sore hands write soaring ballads, hopefully. My billed resources build worlds. My groans have grown to impress And now I know no bounds, and write openly. To some, I'm the sole soul provider. To others, I'm the right writer for the outsider. I heard the herd. But then I maul the mall. So do I unmask the masses, or am I a liar?

When I can't sleep away, I dream when awake, and I feel like I lost my mind today When I can't sleep away, I dream when awake, and I feel like it's all about to fade There is a shallow end of my bed that I designate To do all my thinking for the night as I navigate But still i'm not asleep, and I levitate. Creeping through a landscape, imagine that I'm medicated. Like i'm tied in a hospital bed, sedated. So I choose my sleep as my portal. In my mind, my friends and family are immortal. And i live my life when it goes unchanged and normal. Where every obstacle on the track is a shorter hurdle. And even the most painful things can't be hurtfu

"If you strain your ears, the wind can speak words". That's what my mother has told me. "They can tell stories of peasants, and stories of lords You just need to listen when it gets stormy". So one autumn night, I opened my ears. I tried to hear the story it would behold. "Mother" I cried, "There is no story to hear The winds, when i hear them, feel more cold". My mother gave me a look rather pleasant And made me a warm cup of soup "But mother" i asked" "The lord, the peasant!" Her voice sounded as if in a loop: "Listen with your heart, and not your brain. You'll hear every story, from where it came."

The night roams on the cracked street. A streetlight flickers on and off. This fall fog raises over my head As i walk quickly on the side of the road. I've lost a shoe, somewhere far behind. It doesn't matter now. I'm only 4 blocks away from my goal. If i could afford a cab, i would. My coat is too small, and my pants too big. But i walk on, look at my feet. A few people noticed my shoe is gone It wasn't mine to begin with. My hands are cold, my pocket has holes. My hair is sleek with sweat and dew. I cross a red light, I made a few mad. But i have priorities, and i'll never see them again. The hospital comes into my view I b