The last song

Death is an echo of the dreams I once had
Emptied in fashions which came in a fad
Chains of disaster curve round my soul
Taking me deeper, lost in the ground.
A world full of darkness eats at my mind
Beauty of innocent spent on the child
Corruption of my fate leading to death
& Sold to the fortune I spoke with my breath.

Crimson was the colour of the dream I begun
Earning from poverty another new sun
Woke up & dreamt, cried & I yearn
Fueling the imagination, sinew to burn
Caring little for nothing & dreaming of my fear
Wishing you were lovely, hoping you were near.
You called out my name & I took you backstage
Thrashed out my anger & i hit you with rage
I cried in your pockets & tore up your dress
& spat out my fury in a need to impress.

I lie in my own filth, broken, forlorn
Needles & injections, battered & torn
Who’d have thought life which I once happily loved
Would kill all of Europe & find it all stuffed.
I wanted to kiss you, I wanted to tease
I wanted to love you, I wanted to please
But you hated my words & you threatened my life
All because of my heat & your own mental strife.

Habits are repetitive, they burden & they kill,
Seemed I could not take you, or bend you to my will
Stairs were a danger & I threw you straight down
& I laughed so sincerely, with the blood on your crown
Relationships end, & you hated me so
But I loved you my woman, though you never seemed to know.
Frustration’s volcanic, it eats & it burns
& each night you kept silent, I longed & I yearned
I want you beside me, I want your sweet smile
& I would kill everything, if only for a while

But dreams they are a-failing & I’m lost in my way
& I’ll wake up without you, yet another grey day
The glass on the stair well, the shit on the street
& the business I go to, which leaves stains on my feet
My heart it is broken, cause love never wins
& I’m guilty of loving, it’s a fortune of sin.

~ a bad night of regret & longing
(c) ed simkins

Advertisements

Awoken by dreams.

My bed aches in misery. Fact.
A frozen blanket of time & memory.
Filled with dreams from old.

Thoughts that capture you.
I hate you.
You left me scared & broken.

Your memory stood there this morning.
A vengeful palace of words so stern.
Vivid dream that bit. & cut eternal deep.

I’m angry.
& I despise you for the details you provide.
Standing there accusing me. How dare you.

You told them lies.
Strangers that I never knew; your family of fear & daily deceit.
You told them lies. & broke me with their hate.

How could you lure me last night?
How could you stand there naked? Make me dream of your flesh that burns.
Smooth & still & screaming seduction. Always bribing.

Tonight I’m sick. & I don’t expect you to care. I know your thoughts.
You appear in dreams & wake me up in sweat so cold & full of crisp disdain.
Then stir my passion with love & hate.

I’m sick inside. Never healed. Never known sweet freedom from you.
The cuts you stroke are deep & sore. A mad memento of love so called.
You stole so many things but the empty shell you left behind.

I’ll curl up in my bed tonight. Stretch out a hand and miss you there.
I’ll pretend no fear & hide beside, an empty space where tears were cried in hopeless desire & love inspired.
I’ll watch your face, your silent sleep & breathe.

& The light will fade, the shadows recline.
Darkness consume & the night will pass.
Maybe tomorrow in the fresh morning sun, a new hand will hold me close.

~ this morning’s vivid dream shook my soul. I Awoke to anger & frustration.
© ed simkins

Death Indoors.

I am sick.

With death and fate and god’s illegal use of power.

He doesn’t care.

How could he?

He barely knows. Or thinks or sees.

I live alone.

In hedges by the roadside. In forest unseen.

You see the ghost that crumbles.

Of a shallow grave.

& I am sick.

I have been defeated. Again. Only this time by a simple clock.

One that tells the time & lies.

It breaks my heart and laughs and throws it’s shitty hands up and says ’oh what? Did you seek illusion?’

& I reply in tears.

Frustrated collapse that ends in drugs.

I pity myself. & anger flows.

A ritual you will see again in time & time & time & time again.

My life you see.

Circle of doubt. Of fear. Of broken phallic illusions.

All dreams gone.

So I hold the gun against my head. I clock the hammer.

I hold my breath and pull.

God hates me. That’s all I know.

I worship death.

For who cares what resides within a shell shocked heart?

A quiet night.

Failure announced at the door. A reliable friend.

I cannot but play the song again.

For I might as well lose myself in the well of paine and angst.

& Fill the bath and drown insane.

As Night closes in and the moon walks by.

~ I am pretty shit at many things. & dreams are always defeated.

© Ed Simkins