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My love is unconditional, even when my master forgets to feed me and give me fresh water.
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Just for today I will not acknowledge pain, but instead will rejoice in my rising above it.
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We knew that smell of chocolate wafting past our hiding place.
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Years pass in self-sacrifice and atonement as I pay for my poor choices and self-appointed sins.
by WolfHeart
18 lines, 3 comments,
on Oct 3 9:39 AM
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One lazy morning, just like every other morning
the sky was filled with a rain of living bodies
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There is thunder on the Serengheti Plain,
pools of milkshake fall like strawberry rain.
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Like a winging creature from blackest hell, he churned his skateboard ever closer.
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Fragile as glass teetering on edge Thoughts fly and cannot be gathered
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Lightly lie the leaves of fall upon a fading September lawn.
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Secrets kept in closets, behind closed doors, things unspoken of, things relegated to spend
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Scars run up and down my left arm, most are precise, some are born
by WolfHeart
34 lines, 10 comments,
on Aug 31 8:51 AM
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"You're the king of England, yeah, sure you are. And even if you were, no date until you get a car.
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There are three Americas, my friend. America for the Rich,
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IGather, children and listen to me
as I sing songs of a land that used to be.
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A sound, less than a whisper, more than a breath of sighs . . .
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Those damn birds keep chirping. Don't they see what a shitty day
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Winter's cold, but Kitty is nice and warm
as over pizza box she does swarm.
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There were no words tongue would speak, so my fingers played his heart.
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My eye will blinded be, never to see reality.
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"MEOWWWW", and scrambling feet was all I heard, then the crash of favorite teapot on the kitchen floor.
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Books held me gently in their hand,
taking me to places both bold and grand.
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Weary heads duck beneath the grit that sands our eyes.
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I could hear the corn creak like a rusty barn door as you shouted
by WolfHeart
27 lines, 5 comments,
on Aug 20 11:57 PM
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Cats strewn in the sun; sandy carpet holds their shells,
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Born in a land with freedom, a place where I am living well.
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Years for us have not always been kind, yet, without fail, you live on in my mind.
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Lonely rivers flow over naked flesh exposed to air that is crisp and fresh.
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Another prisoner, caught like me, unable to fly, unable to flee.
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Tourists gone home to distant places. This morning, no strangers faces.
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Feet sometimes leave the wisest path,
hearts sometimes are filled with wrath.
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Licking the exposed edges of flesh, tongues of fire burn like liquid gold.
by WolfHeart
18 lines, 7 comments,
on Jun 23 12:32 PM
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"Now you listen here, you curly-haired freak, listen carefully to me when I speak.
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Took it to the trash a time or two. . . always retrieved it, covered in dew.
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