Phil314

"The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly." -- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby I remember when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, Plastic claws leaving footprints in the carpet. I remember when Santa was real and God was too, Cuts and bruises would heal faster if you kissed them. My rose-colored glasses have a thick prescription Sitting crooked on my nose, scratched and overused. Work, sleep, repeat. Cynical, critical is all I'll ever be What will become of the land of the brave, home of the free? Play the guitar and learn how to sing if you wa

They call it the city that never sleeps—it's true, you know. Sarah and I stretched our tired legs after spending ten hours lulled by the gentle rocking of the rail car—jostled awake just before sleep took us, every time. We emerged from the mechanical echoes of Penn Station and were greeted by the vibrant city streets. It was past one, but the air was alive with traffic, neon reflecting off of the wet pavement, and indistinct porch-step conversations. A cool, after-rain breeze blew Sarah's hair across her face as we both looked upwards in awe of the buildings towering above. After a good night's rest, we spent the next few days

 I was at school when it happened. Just a regular second grade class in our quiet Western New York town; we were learning multiplication, I think. It was another ordinary day until my mother showed up outside the classroom. "It's okay, Philip, Uncle Willie is fine," she said, almost out of breath. My older sister trailed behind. "It's gonna be okay. I love you." She pulled me in and hugged me close. I was confused as hell. Uncle Willie lived in the faraway land of Long Island, I only remembered him vaguely from the few family trips there years before. "Uncle Willie? What do you mean?" My father came home from work early. The four of us s

"The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly." -- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby I remember when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, Plastic claws leaving footprints in the carpet. I remember when Santa was real and God was too, Cuts and bruises would heal faster if you kissed them. My rose-colored glasses have a thick prescription Sitting crooked on my nose, scratched and overused. Work, sleep, repeat. Cynical, critical is all I'll ever be What will become of the land of the brave, home of the free? Play the guitar and learn how to sing if you wa

We are pirates, Sailing for the unknown. It is a scary place, but with you It's worthwhile. Set course for discovery. Into shadow, into darkness we go, Knowing there is light On the other side. And it just makes me feel That I have to go on, with you Through oceans of dreams, Under skies of imagination. I believe that everything will be fine; That somewhere in this void, This infinite unknown, You're here, my guide. Oh, the beauty of twilight Passing through our sails Makes night bearable. Sweet dreams, my pirate.

I don't want to write Poetry anymore. I'm inspired To write prose, but no I can't. I hate rhyme rhythm, meter rules that tell me how to express myself. I don't want to write Poetry anymore. But it's the only way to get this out. I'm sick of it. I don't want to write Poetry anymore. But prose isn't clear enough. I can't do both. I can't do either.