OP (11-14-1988 / California)


what a mashed and mangled mess
with no obstacles but with worry
because she cant take another blow
not one more unwilling strike
as i have already transformed
now begins the long and weary road to certainty

so count your sheep
and i'll ponder this sack
as fourteen days go by like a thousand years
well words aint worth much
and right now i'm not
and for the past four months i've hurt you most
you aesthetic slice of heaven
that i've been so lucky as to set my sights upon

my luck is all but spent
putting false hope in a model
and false truths in my heart
Which drag me by my ankles
but no longer
my thoughts have no focus
and the closest thing is four miles away
with an ill feeling in her gut

how it burns
right through my ribs into the pits of hell
to accompany my soulless corpse
i've withered away into dust
thats been blown in the wind

call me uninsanity
for i know how he feels and thinks
beats pounding in my ears
birds letting out their shrillest cries
my eyes rest in my gut
which is dry, flaky, and burned away

too much clock
i swore not a single blink until the chariots ride
i've gone completely sane
and have awoken to bitterness
which unlike others, was centered in my chest
its been torn out and shred to pieces
so it may be scattered across the fields
while bits are presented to those who will take
its all been for the better
for me and for us all

because those outstretched arms will grasp steel made with hourglasses
as i have this uncontrollable itch to turn back time
to document how they were
and how he could return
rather than sit here
watching my flesh melt from the flames
watching me deteriorate with a fear
hoping the grains will stick
hoping that everything i've ever done will matter

User Rating: 4,5 / 5 ( 1 votes ) 1

Langston Hughes


Comments (1)

Hey man, this is kool; write more