Staring At The Stars

We wait for the sun, to fall into it’s slumber.
Under the stars, we’re staring at them.
They’re beautiful, an empire of legacies.
I never give up a chance to glaze, a maze of thoughts, some whiskey for the time, not the taste.
I haven’t been this loose, in a long time.
All around the room, the soundtrack to my mood is playing.
All I can see, is your glow, along with distorted faces.
I take my paces, and meet you in a place where no one knows our name.

At this moment, I want to cry.
What a sight, in front of my very eyes.
Her voice, the sound of strength, and a look that can love you, and leave you, if you’re not careful.
This is no longer mental, the tempo in my chest, it’s moves for you.
Each blink, I skip a heartbeat.
I was a man without a purpose, counting his curses, not his blessings.
I’m guessing that God is real, because he never let’s me enjoy the grapes while they’re sweet.
Now, you’re complete; even if you’re missing a quarter of your smile, which is where we meet.
As you hold my hand, my skin starts to warm up.
As you hold my heart, the sky starts to clear up.
As you say my name, the stars disappear, and it’s clear, that I can’t stop staring at you.

I love you.

La Araña

The life, flowing out of you.
We learn to appreciate how ugly you are inside.
Your heart isn’t black, but it’s cold.
Bold; a woman with no home, tries to create her own.
It’s not that I don’t believe in you, it’s that what you believe in, is unbelievable.
You don’t have to try hard, to convince the smartest men, that their empire, is now yours.
The thing is; I’m not the brightest, so I can see past the glass door.
We’re poor, but rich in sense.
Things are tense, and you aren’t helping.
You’re pouring fire, on top of fire, not knowing that I’m preparing to burn you in it.
This prison, we’re all trying to escape, yet you keep us trapped.
It’s proper manners, to keep your elbows off the table, so why do you keep laying, where we eat?

I won’t play executioner, but I will be in attendance when they cut off your head.
All these ideas, and dreams, they follow those dark eyes.
You’ve had many chances, instead, you wove a web that only you could crawl through.
Like any spider, if you don’t remember your steps, you’ll get stuck in the only place that is familiar.
What once was, becomes a breeze in the wind.
In time, we learn to trim the fat, thin.
In minutes, we skin the murderers, for their sins.
In seconds, we can lose it all, for a lousy win.
The world spins, so don’t forget your steps, the next time you try to seduce me.

The Drink

A toast to our youth, it’s all we have, at this moment.
Our livers open, with no protest, we smile in war.
It’s pitch black, inside, we sit back, and let it take over.
Fear of growing older, because our goals seem so far away.
Sometimes, I wish things would be different; instead of drinking, we could be thinking of new theories, instead of thinking of old series.
Old series, that can only put the pieces to the past.
I hate to break it to you, but the drink, it won’t last.
The poison will, and we’re sinking fast.

Try to understand my words, they’re slurred, but make sense.
It wasn’t the first, or the third, but the fifth that made logic exist.
For once, things are alright.
The cancer can finally breathe.
I know things are out of the box, but what’s stock without someone to invest?
What’s a chest without a heart to rest?
I’m blessed, really.
I could’ve been with my uncles, drinking in hell, but for my father’s sake; I stayed out of the cell, didn’t dwell in the beer of my kin, passed the gin, for water is the well that won’t leave me dry.
In time; I’ll figure it out, the signs will tell.
But tonight; I don’t drink for them, I drink for myself.

9 2 5 King

King of the 9-5’s.

At first, we’re meant to impress,

meant to act like we care, all for the dead presidents.

Dead elegance, there’s no style in acting like we give a fuck.

I piss in a cup, knowing I can’t wait to pass the test,

so I can smoke, and digress.

I digress.

No more rest, or a breath needed, when your heart is beating,

it’s really bleeding, until the feeling loses it’s rhythm.

This prison, claims another victim, I’m lost, losing my vision,

because a dream can’t come true without some fucking money.

The root.

Evil.

I need you.

Now, I know why people jump off the highest buildings.

Their dreams die on top, and your soul, at the bottom.

King.