"The smoke in this bar coats my worn out throat
I've been screaming so long with no repercussions
My eyes are to heavy and the lighting will play tricks on us
What once was my tender heart, is now iron and steel
I've come to a wall blocking my path and obstructing the view
I won't go around, and stare, I'll beat at the concrete till it falls
Bloody fists, broken bones, this wall must fall..."


"Ghosts in the graveyard,
drinking tea with the others,
but they can't see me."

Two poems I wrote today. Drinking tea, contemplating pulling out my bicycle and riding to Stroudsburg. What else is there to do today? I much rather just adventure.