you call this an election?

It's a drink that will listen but those who listen will drink
There's nowhere to go but up.
The downward spiral seems to be infallible but
But there has to be something else
Other than space and time and empty thoughts that go nowhere except back to their beginnings.
The start the middle the stop.
The three phases that make the phrases that build the mazes
and smoke keeps pouring out of the vases without leaving the slightest traces of what comes next.
Throwing away the idea of no next seems like the way to go but the best?
The best comes after the rest of the guests have left and you can't help but feel bereft of...something
Even though you liked her vest it will never mean she passed your test, she sickens me oh she sickens me like your voice sticks in me when all I'm really asking is that you fix me
Since maybe one day you'll miss me.
Trust is one of those things that can't be combined with others
Its success rate has declined in my mind and it's straight difficult to miss it when you're all sorts of entwined because it always seems to be coming up from behind when all you wanted from it was to be wined and dined.
When comes the stop? I can't just keep taking it from the fucking top it's just time to close up shop.
Slightly let down by a passing sun
Sinking slowly behind mountains I will never see up close
It's such a shame that the day ends in such a way.
It could just say a polite goodbye that would leave everyone and everything at ease and peaceful and still but NO
It disappears with a furnish and a flourish and a few too many frosty ones
Leaves everyone wondering what they did wrong why it happened so soon
and the only answer I can give you
Is fucking global warming.

-LBR.

making sense out of nonsense.

Pretending is something that comes easily to her
No one would ever dare be caught teasing her
Would lead to a road block that could never end.
She isn't me and I'm not her, but when has that ever stopped us?
The barriers are coming down, sweetheart,
and the monsters that eat sweetened hearts aren't far behind.
Makes me wonder why you're so blind, it's not hard to understand a logical mind
But its what you like, just like time.
I know you lied when you said it didn't matter
It's constantly driving you crazy, you mad hatter
The facts just keep getting sadder, and it's all because you never really mattered.
Not to me, not to the stars, and quite frankly I'm only concerned as far as
where you end and I have begun to begin.
The sky tells me it only goes from one to where I will win.
I can see the spiral in the distance these days
Where it's points end and reflect off the golden rays
The sun will be the first to deny you.
You shouldn't have lied with the stars reflecting in your eyes
This is your last chance to change, to believe that you tried
Not even that can keep you alive.
What I'm seeing is what makes me keep believing
that leaving is what needs to happen, or I'll just keep seething
out anger in long trailing pieces
when all i want to do is be dreaming with someone whose brain is teeming with ideas about
steady breathing and will stop needing me to be everything but one piece.
I know what I'm doing this time.

-LBR.

Stephanie (Cut the Shit)

I.

My heart drops, hides somewhere between my knees

Like a scared cat,

And I feel like a child playing make-believe -

Losing terribly.

Stephanie says I ought to cut the shit and get my priorities straight.

I always hated Stephanie.

II.

You said you'd leave the window open but now I'm kicking down the door.

When the splinters fall and the dust settles, I'll wait no more than

A split second before tearing myself apart in the foyer.

I need to get away from you and this place and all these machines.

I need to stop getting so lost, myself, in between dreams.

I need to breathe fresh air instead of nicotine and THC.

I really ought to cut the shit.

III.

Life gave me what it did and now I'm left with pitchers and pitchers of sour lemonade -

And only one straw.

It's my mess now, I know, but sometimes

I hear the hills whispering, "Cut your losses and run!"

My response thus far has been to hide,

But I've been stretching my calves and feet and knees and thighs,

And now I feel my battered, broken lungs thirsting for city life.

IV.

It's funny the way things seemed

To work out like frayed strings tying themselves into knots:

We'd be disbanded by the wind if not for the tangles and ties,

The snarled fingers, the locked eyes,

But together we're stronger than alone we'd ever be.

I think it's about time we cut the shit and do something about this.

-a.l. knox