Three - My precious bones

By Belchman

Wed, 18 Nov 2015

553 reads

I remember it all unfolding how I hoped it should have been.

I haven't known you very long, but you're the greatest sight I've seen.

There was that night when I was drunk and didn't play the game,

I bought a round, had a drink, but you went home with him again.

I've seen you in the golden sun,

Your body flashing by.

I've seen you walking, talking, drinking,

And I've tried to catch your eye.

I say “I am an alcoholic, because I drink to pass the time.

I'm not like other guys, because I would never lie.

You changed how I would see my world.”

Much too young then, you're much too young a girl.

And I wrote,

“I miss you already, but you're gone.

You make me smile,

With you I have fun, and fun, and fun.”

Once upon a time

An August tale was told,

as tales often are.

Over time

the tale aged,

as tales often do.

The original story was lost,

Beneath a myriad chaos of failures.

A new tale was forged from the blood of men and kings.

The tale was forged in the pen of the priest and the heart of the man,

and the brain of the beast and the blood of the lamb.

It was now more of a collection of tales,

of the deeds of men and kings and gods.

“The king was in his counting house,

counting all his money

while the jester and I played on for the queen

while the knights looked on in fain amusement.

From high atop her bramble throne,

she looked impassively down,

and begged forgiveness.

The jester cried and so did I,

for the dress she wore was bathed in golden tears,

and stained in rust and dirt.

The Jester said:

“Is this really justifying

all the stories

written down in rhyme,

and sang about

from the beginning of all time.

The fables that you hear about,

and epic stories real aloud.”

the queen looked up and shock her head,

the king just stood by counting.

The knights were loathed,

to speak of the ghost,

and instead just stood by laughing.”

There's something uncontrollable,
Something sinister,
Silent,
Shapeless,
Laughable,
About the way you make me think.
It's like a mantra,
On the inside of my head,
A tattoo
On the inside of my eye,
Or a nail down the chalkboard of my mind.
It's a light like a beacon,
On a dark and foggy morning,
Guiding me to safety away from the dangers of my mind.
I want to tattoo my name onto your skin,
Carve my name onto your thigh,
Scratch my face onto your eye,
Burn my face onto your mind.
There's been many countless morning,
When
I've woken after drinking,
Thinking
How I've done you wrong.
But then sudden realization
it’s not about you, it's about me, then
If only I could make you mine.
With acid I'll burn my name onto your skin,
with blood I'll paint my face onto your eye,
I'll use a rusty nail and scratch and carve my name onto your thigh.