A Dance on the Edge of Dystopia: Part 2.

Roadkill

A fearful heart, a deer in headlights,

Dark hair pouring over bloodshot eyes.

Were you ever going to tell me?

Was I ever going to know?

You lay on that bed like roadkill,

Paralysed from the pain of this.

Pale-faced and teary-eyed,

She asked you why,

Asked you to die, to end this suffering.

Your eyes searched for warmth

In that room of ours

But everything was as dull as your pallor;

Grieving from the loss of your father.

A quick mind, a dangerous storyteller.

Brown eyes and blood-stained sheets,

Was she ever going to tell me?

Was I ever going to know?

I lay on that bed like roadkill,

Glaring at that 80’s popcorn ceiling,

Searching for any kind of meaning,

Any alternate feeling.

She asked me how, asked me why

Then outright told me to die.

My eyes hunted for love 

In that little box room of ours

But everything was being reinvented;

A new life from the ground up.

Ashes of You

These people, these places

Are burnt into my skin like cigarette stains.

I open a 20-pack of songs you showed me,

Chain-smoke them like you’re only a text away

And I’ll get another fix anyway.

But our cigarettes burnt out years ago

And the ashes of you are infused in these tunes.

These people and these places 

Are nothing but little traces of nicotine

Fuelling me, ruling me through the night.

And on the rare occasion I see a sunrise,

I grab a coffee and blast your songs

Because I was happy then.

And I can be happy now.

One Day

Washed up on the beach,

I lay there with my mind in disarray.

The static sand drowning my fingers,

The soft breeze eased my confused, chaotic head.

The waves washed away any feelings

That lingered on a little too long

And the clouds painted pictures

Only I could see.

One day I’ll be these grains of sand,

One day I’ll be the breeze in the air

And the water beneath me.

One day I won’t be able to care

So that’s why I do, most of the time.

One day I washed up on the beach

And just lay there.