Escape?

Broken knives hover like eagles in the sky.
Bloodied wrist torn & sore.
Eyes drenched in pain
Heart sunk in anger.

I hear the call & stolen lies
Jestful tweaks of hate
Bloody minded you say
You know nothing of the volcano inside.

Frustration mounts in steps so huge
A sickness builds & throat fills up
Disdain for life, disdain for hope
Only solitude pacifies the mind.

A world of loathsome fear stares back at me
Hate & terror & those who kill
I’m tortured here by the control of others
Those of little wit & shallow lives

The blade dangles release within my grasp
If only eyes could focus on this shameful end
Then weakness of the heart & mind
Would in cave find sweet relief

Narrow cut & drowning bath
Water filled with crimson tears
Who’d care if human died
& man escaped by choice?

Oh bloody minded you repeat
With bullshit lines of ineptitude & understanding
Aggression held below the fakest manner
& poisoned spit withheld in cheek

Power told & chained neck brought back
Who I am to run off free?
That knife still circulates
Too weak to bring it sudden down.

~ horrendous bullshit & lack of power.
© ed simkins

Without Focus

a secret told in hidden depths of blackened skies.
Rains fall. Dreams end. subjected issues plague the mind.
Stillness reigns. Inertia, fear & regret.
The explosion of the chase that was racing over yonder hill was but a day away before. & gone.
Now past.

I find myself in solitude. Pages of dread stare at me from the silence of the leather bound case.
Pens stare. Keyboard distracts. & waits.
Intelligence still.
I cannot work.

& reasons forth are many & in multitude.
Rush forward to speak & understand the problems that are or which delay.
– Dreams sir!
Dreams!

Of a child known which smiles & laughs & in her wisdom avenges with such cheek & wit.
Her probing retaliations & curious ways fend me off in such pleasant ways.
She brings me in. entraps & snares.
A witch of youth who torments my heart & mind with thoughts of her alone.
& still no single kiss from lips unknown.
I beg.

Hand which types & struggles forth in unfocussed mind seeks to touch
To gentle caress her blushing cheek.
I smile.
& die.
& stare at words which flow upon the screen & not through work.
For I think of her.
Of her.

& perhaps she knows my secret now.
– She teases so!
That love & lust & wanton desire & soft & luscious warm affection awaits.
Seeks her.
Wants her.
But I must focus.
On tedium that must daily transpire & urge my mind to focus thus.
Away from her. Away from dreams. Away from yearning that consumes me so.
& as I type & struggle to conquer days ahead, I will think of her.
Of impish delight. Of conversations held in jest.
& best…
Her beauty thrown in perfect form which leads me into thinking things that many say I should not.
But do.

For love, or delusion, or boyish want
Will keep her in my mind this quiet night.
I love her!
With all my heart I think of her.
But torn heart which cannot touch her precious soul, must now instead win over mind
& focus on the struggles of thought & work
Such is the fight within my head that now exists.

~ Procrastination & thoughts of her. I cannot concentrate. Nor focus on my work.

© ed simkins

Unfocused Satisfaction

Cello plays. Soft thoughts mount. Confetti falls. An empty dream.
I pause for breath.
Skip to the end. Let’s play tonight. Let’s drink some food. Let’s play for stakes.
Or fail & cry & laugh some more.
Entry point. A scarlet girl. Her lipstick collar. I don’t care what you say.
I’m a spider. A word leak. A fountain of truth.
She calls. I hate her voice. The TV’s on, but I can not watch.
I turn to you & watch you fly. You’re drugged. The sky’s so dark.
My light illuminates the earth. The moon will disappear.
My fingers fly. I talk a million different shades of wrong. No need to fuck. Girl is naked.
A clothed horse goddess of a drunken industry. Whore? Or heaven sent?
I pause. Breath satisfies.
Call for more wine & spill my disease.
She smiles & I strip. She steals my clothes. She runs away & the music grows.
I slip – repeat.
A final draft. A hidden couch. The girl in white satisfies my hunger by blowing me.
A filthy thought. A nasty end. A pleasant crisp. Smoke. Lights dazzle.
Slow, slow, slowing down. White wine & collarbone.
Kisses of a hot head. A desire. No bed needed when the lakes are full of soft flesh & dreams.
White water rapids. Illegal pleasures. Eyes steam as I fulfil my needs.
Red lights, bright lights, walking away. Tiredness slumbers. The girl is gone.
The party’s over. Goodnight to the life. Car speeds.
The music electric, eclectic, darkening screams.
The people are younger. The distance approaching.
The edge takes over.
I fall.
The end.

~ Listening to The Verve, my head began to spin.

© Ed Simkins