The bad nerveĀ 

Sitting in my car, waiting for the inspiration to bring me alive like a heartbeat.

The music feels dangerous and I love this. Contemplating; not the hazard of speeding down the highway ferociously but to drive at melancholic speeds sipping on a vile of cold poisoning,

The exact place of solitude that a good old song and writing can bring.

Wondering just how dangerous I can be, How much fear I can bring, just by being extremely hard to read and impossible to see. 


She Is Running Marathons With Broken Bones

She’s got red eyes.

A bit blue inside and doesn’t know why,

But her stride keeps gliding 

Up before the sunrise.

Bleeding inside out and wishing for the pain to subside

A tricky soul with talents an inch short from amazing

But can’t seem to heal herself;

She keeps on

Running marathons with broken bones.

Blackened bruises 

She comes out swinging, 

Punching holes in the walls she herself created 

Questioning the love she can’t seem to relate to

Hoping that one day that she will be a little less unhappy 

And just a little stronger.