loss

from bed, crossing property lines puts you in cages

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

kids in cages for crossing property lines

stay off his lawn, if you cross this figment of their imagination it threatens an insecurity born out of their disturbed, dirty, dead-soul mind-frame, and Gogol isn’t here to hold the mirror to the flaws you absorbed from enemies past

one time monsters are now what you hope to be

morph

are you afraid?

afraid, brown people will spill over to overthrow this overture to a symphony sewing discord, redirecting our friendship glances another distracted direction, wagner would be proud

waiting for your ovation

glimpses into the ebb and flow, of dots and nature’s boundary, needs you have down below, who am i to judge?

we froze the friends above, they used to be unthawed

so polite

i’m done listening, trying to understand

you don’t deserve the second hand that is heard clapping in forests alone where you’ve yet to tap natural nutrients to buy and sell for a single cell, there’s a cell in hell waiting to capture your lifeless soul you bought and sold for no more than the price of gold

they’re digging it up for you

stand still

wait here

we’ll come to you

from a lot of places, i wish these shootings would stop

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

how do i get to my kids?

wading through hearts left on the floor

it’s february 14th, you know?

teachers gurgling blood

mentees can’t make out who it is, by shoes alone

jesus fucking christ how many god damn more

children?

unsafe in seats

tragedies like these

be better than us, more than this

i’m a teacher

i’m with your kids

everyday

these bullets

the ones we allow to fly

make you, me, us

complicit

we gun down their emotions and need for attachment firing at their self-esteem needing a screen to tell us how to make dinner, that our parenting skills are okay

not today

you sit and stay when you see someone gray

say something

don’t joke about their shades

i dare you

too bright?

tell them to come back tomorrow

bullshit agendas next is what we swallow from guns to homeschool religion,

WARNING SIGNS?

Teach warning signs?

Do we ever think to discuss the problems?

selfishly shuffling away from blame

i know his name

troubled youth?

contemplation of suicide waiting in a desk for class to start

their ‘friends’ will do it for them

human being human being

we are disrupting the measures that make a human being

shootings at our schools?

can you understand that shit?

children

yah, teach our kids to open their eyes to their friends mental health problems, cause teachers have toted that one around long enough, when in the hell are the paper pushers going to stop shifting in unaccountable social media chairs

monster’s stares

who cares?

that’s the question

who cares?

they are asking us

who cares?

will we do something?

who cares?

it’s your fault

who cares?

from bed, go back to then

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

“…a tree falling…”

i couldn’t hear the last part

creative cashing-in

beveled blades that transfer wealth

i crept beside her

listening to the steam rise from forest floors

casual benefits

blithering

shrugged silence

broken trials

treaties

denials

retreating

we couldn’t keep up

halted

still life

left listless in language-less hallways

advances

echoing dance steps stranded in anxieties alien shoes

technology

bring me back home

under her draped past

arms that welcomed

a few million

others came under her dress

around a breast

out of reach

couldn’t spare her breath

pass a test

one in four

chances

they watched you erect her

defilement

i’ll believe you when you say it happened

i can’t hear their words

if i’m not in the room

from bed, at least i’m not angry anymore

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

i used to think you’d show up when i left.

visions of a blustery fall day burial scene with cracks of thunder and would be lovers hiding behind trees while my family collected woulda, shoulda, and couldas

these thoughts brought comfort when slitting my throat seemed like a viable option

but

i forgot to rent out a sign to design the image of me i’d assign so you didn’t have to contemplate what i gave

absorbing left me dry

taken for granted

as i lye motionless you don’t deserve to cry while they lie and you skip over the dry sky that left me wanting more

now you’re heading to the store to buy what you were quick to deny

and these other assholes who take out billboards and broadcast simple tasks get your adoration in a shallow nation where everything needs to be spoon fed

here you fucking baby, planes coming in the hangar

i’d jab that spoon deep and carve out your esophagus, wrap it around your neck, and kick you over

the subtle beauty trapped in a clavicle bone draped with falling fabric riding up-and-down

is lost on you

not to be found in this fast forward fuck-fest where fake tits and cock sucking scenes are what you need to understand attraction.

told what to do, who to clap for, no fucking mind of your own to understand that passing fancy each day is what made you smile

keep nodding off to numbed out numbers coming through a real-to-life screen where i finally fall in the background

the worms will know