Where And Were

February 13, 2020

Things you’re not allowed to experience or express,
Moments and days locked up alone times of strain and stress.

Why does this universe tease me, that there is something beyond misery and pain,
Shelter me and set me afire only to toss me right back out in the rain.

Pressure on because of all life throws at me, try to cop with it with nowhere for me to call home,
All I get are memories and broken down dreams and promises now part of history’s tome.

Not sure why it’s gotta be so lonely out here in the dark, why we have to cry behind shades,
Or why illusions and ghosts of what I can never have and spells unbroken never to be paid.

‘Why’ does not cover all on this lonely night I wish I did not have to try and survive,
What is better asked, what’s the point of being here in a world with no love, without sweet moments inside the chaos that make us feel alive?
– Thomas Spychalski


Aftershock

February 11, 2020

We forget when there is nothing left to light fires but lies as the truth will only harm,
Moving forward when we can only recall the selfish genes in your faith, replacing charm.

Settling back I guess instead of the desire to finally settle down partnering in more,
Aftershock over from my loss of faith in what I’ll wear evermore on my sleeve like a monogamous white.

Ten-nineteen still shows everywhere this nonsensical line I cannot deny comes from outside,
Message of me and missions, I’m not over but I have to wait for a faithful heart, swallow bruised pride.

Tests were given and magnetic harmony turned to dissident was played to see the burning glow,
However when wills in others weaken and they are preordained to one sided thinking that is when we unlearn beautiful pain we thought we would know.
– Thomas Spychalski


High Wall

February 6, 2020

Can anybody love or cut me,
I find they just interchange.
Anything to make me feel,
Any damn role, your stage.

Walls rise up bombarded again,
Defense not needed but I’m tired.
Worst part of dreaming is waking,
sound of the gun which she fired.

What the hell am I, not much to tell,
When you can never get them to stay.
Special, awe you, amazing, and loved,
Then why am I ‘here’ and why do I still feel this way?
-Thomas Spychalski


Last Light On A Winter’s Night

January 23, 2020

I saw the purple and white move and flow as you wrote once awaiting my coming to you,
There is a knife at my throat in longing for a feeling I think I see in those streams and lines.
Last light on a Winter’s night, now is vacant what had been such a sight.

Why do I wander here, old ice on the ground, hazard, and freezing thoughts of zero degrees,
Ghosts of Winter I say, post solstice when days elongate and light stays,
Damn the imparting, freeze it, depart, missing what I believed was in my hands I have made into an art.

Here we are again to worship at her icy altar like a servant to a cruel master,
Exposure means we cannot be put here all the rest of the season every night,
Silence of ‘her’ screams telling, evading those false dreams, leaving time to sort out that which is not what it seems.
-Thomas Spychalski


If You See Her

January 19, 2020

I know a feeling I’ve placed on a shelf,
Do you know the man with only himself?
I know a burden like barbs in my heart,
Fearing the echo as it tears me apart.

If you saw her,
Can you say?
I’m alone,
You are away

I know an emotion that will not die,
Focus the mirrors until we shall cry.
I need an ocean to swallow up pain,
A hollow for overflow, internal rain.

If you see her,
Can you say,
Out from under,
Turn and pray.

I knew a girl she captured me good,
Wounds like a weapon ever it should.
I know a person who sits in the center,
Every day feel the slip of the bond tether.

If you see her,
Can you say,
That I miss her,
Still love you either way.
-Thomas Spychalski


Restless And Wanting

January 17, 2020

I was wearing all my outdoor clothes inside,
Because I just wanted to leave,
Had no way and no where to go,
Wanted the feelings of my love.

Laws don’t mean the heart don’t hurt,
Gatherings that burnt my soul down,
Old fashioned but that’s why I shine,
That’s why you believe me like no other.

So I waited in the cold, it fit my chest’ s misery,
Waiting for someone so far away from me,
That came in and moved me, made me alive,
I miss that even though I get the why.

Don’t get the disregard when I called to you when I needed,
How about the disregard of what was truly real,
Gods and plans and simple wind blown fancies.
Things that do not change my inside cutting.

I’m outside everyone’s silent, I get lonely too,
Nothing to be by my side in real time virtual reality only,
I need that completed circle to be encoded in me from past times,
Here I am, right here always willing, but the burn breaks my skin.

There I was wearing all my outside clothes indoors or right outside,
Duel chairs mocking me with their emptiness,
It was not so long ago you were in that cheap throne that shines more than diamonds,
And here I am, waiting with no where to go, no one here and I’m lonely too…

But I burn from the fires stoked high,
Someone else was within and with you,
It scars so much, I’m never enough for anyone,
That is why hurts as I sit here dressed up nowhere to be, no one to see I’m lonely too.
-Thomas Spychalski


Stick

January 17, 2020

Out of all the flotsam and jetsam,
From all those loose bits and bobs,
Was broken then when we said some,
Clocks painted over, cause time robs.

Somehow gold dust from under,
Stuck in your soul’s teeth, reach,
Now I can connect love, no plunder,
In my eyes, no reason for a speech.

So many sticky notes across the landmass,
Pull me, don’t use me, I can set us all free,
Apologises for the times smoke from sass,
Regeneration now I can embrace the you through the me.

Filter you all just how you like it done,
Love you all like art in a free exhibition,
If we are gonna do this let’s just run,
Sticky but now sweet is my ambition.

Next level is just get up, just do and move,
Gonna get higher, just to come down to you,
I dance now, I open, 24/7, I stick the groove.
God bless the people who come at me true.

Reversals, before I go, I get stuck too,
Somewhere in those sacred places,
Nestled deep inside, the lot of you,
So many sticky pages in so many faces….so nice to be your glue…
– Thomas Spychalski


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