The Mental Munchies

Frayed around the edges,
peeping over hedges,
teetering on the ledges,
swearing false pledges.

Dancing in disguise,
falling through the skies,
squeezing shut my eyes,
ignorant to the cries.

I’ve been lost,
and not the usual
losing myself in us, or you.

I can’t seem to find
either of the components
that once created
Our Us.

Poised to strike,
your minds a rot.
Insecurities and nerves
botch rational thought.

Painting your faults 
on the faces of friends,
pathetic at best,
but your means to an end.

I refuse to accept the words
you tried to shove down my throat,
you silly self-centered child,
since you dont a have clue-take this note.




 

Sorry folks,
I have truly been neglecting my writing recently
=(
Workin’ my new job and my old one leads to 8-16 hr days and very little sleep,
hopefully something will slap me in the face with inspiration soon.
Thanks for stickin’ around through the dry-spell.

                                                            Yours Truly

                                                                A. Chance

Silken words,
so smooth,
I wonder if
they taste
that way
to you.

Your tongue
must be sharp,
to weave
these words
so fine,
tell me,
are they only
mine?

There is only one flaw
with silk
weaved from words.
In vain
I struggle
attempting to
wrap myself
in them just so-
for
they don’t
keep me
warm
at night
while I’m
alone.

ghostsandonionskins:

your eyes too deep to mention
your ear a whisper’s theft
your voice demands attention
your curves command my breath

if I’m red within your favor
if I stammer at your hem
if my songs of worship quaver
well, I broke when I wrote them

I felt your fingers,
glide across my thigh,
taunting and teasing,
getting me high.

Your touch still lingers,
just as your intoxicating scent
is still so pleasing,
with no cause to resent.

The dawn broke too soon,
light penetrated our dreams
I awoke to find you gone
leaving no trace or so it seemed.

A chill for my spine in an empty room,
the last of your warmth curled in my toes,
as a love started to bloom,
that would put shame to a rose.

Your accusations
leave temptations
for me to prove
you correct.

If you already think so poorly of me,
what the heck,
let’s make this mess,
into a proper wreck.

Abuse induced and of little use,
when I finally hang this noose,
there will be no excuse
worth keeping it loose,
except perhaps another relapse,
on you, silly goose.