Sunday, December 18, 2011

Discarded Thoughts

Strewn all over the place
Are my discarded thoughts
My would've been, could've been
My haves and have nots.

My dreams and nightmares
All wrapped in silver snares
Sympathy and jealous stares
Thrown over the chairs

There is dust of failure on the floor
A drop of blood stalls the door
No one knocks on it anymore
Maybe they do, I am not sure

These discarded thoughts make so much noise
I can choose, I always have a choice
Still, in my head there is a voice
Saying these thoughts are her toys

So, I heed to the need
When she commands, I bleed
Thoughts all over her floors
My bones on her doors

One vord, vodka.

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