The Diary

Purple glistening shards
of hard boiled sweets
strewn across the pavement

You kick me in the throat
with your brittal words of
will you wont you/'s

Taken under this hood
of clouded mishapen virtue
and your whispers
your fucking whispers

The oars that slapped my shins
are now split and splintered

All those pictures of broken amber lights
and fisheye views

Yous, all of you's
all battered in existence
all crisp and raw in sunlight

I feel the pounding of shoes
hollow in my ears
drums of natives
smoke from their gods
calls from the ones
that are just having fun

Just scape/ing what you have
for what? , another break?
another vacant holiday?
in the life of human hearts

The diary of a keeper
the diary of something
someone.