I'm a guy named Joe. How do.
Writer, musician, amateur bleep maker, ginger ale connoisseur.
I'm fascinated by people and terrified by them all the same.
It Comes in a Bottle.Love. You know it well.It Comes in a Bottle. by hotcupojoe
Comes in a bottle, comes with a price.
Sometimes your senses, sometimes your dime,
But mostly your time.
Pain. We know it well.
Conforms to no form,
But utilises every that I know.
To be poetic, love is pain.
To be precise, pain comes from people.
You are a people.
I am but a person.
It is difficult to know a people,
But facile to know a person.
I've known persons,
Dark, bright, grey.
All alive, all breathing.
Some exhale poison, some vitality,
But all breathing.
I do not know you, creature.
You do not breathe.
You do not speak.
You do not love.
Align you not with any,
But with all.
Your shell is familiar.
Your scent is formidable.
Your speech is regrettable.
You are a people,
A phantom pain.
I am a person.
Broken, but strong.
I do not know you, creature.
Bitch, Swerve: a haiku.So I says to her,Bitch, Swerve: a haiku. by hotcupojoe
"Bitch! Swerve." And I walked away.
She got the message.
Suna.i walked outside,Suna. by hotcupojoe
to greet the maiden and the mistress.
one and the same, the two.
the first which you call "the sun"
and i call my one and only,
my dearest love and fondest friend.
vitality in a word,
freedom in another.
warmth and initiative,
inciting bravery, invoking discord!
regality's crest she bears with pride.
all of sound is hers to command,
and upon her loud, abrasive call
we heed and make way for the door!
ay, she shall love me evermore.
but what of the whore?
o, devil's child.
they call you "the moon."
but, i call you my all.
my fault and my truth,
my sway and my feel,
my taste and texture.
you are as i have always wanted to be:
fearless and peerless,
uncontested in the cool sky.
of my lust you make art;
of my art, you erect memorial;
of my being, you make nephilim.
you tame inhibition,
claim master of my secrecy,
and allow me to soar.
ay, i shall love you evermore.
my moon, my whore.
of two, i see one.
neither day, nor night.
but, life and time,
none the strongersome people talk in riddles,none the stronger by hotcupojoe
and some don't really know how to say anything at all
i'm not one of those people
so why is it that you stop me every time
i used to think that we were what has always been
an extension of universal reason and balance
the right of the world and the dark refined
to form something too beautiful for our own eyes
we, blind as a whole, but not to each other
and now, you blind to me
deaf to me alone in your whirlwind,
the embrace of the torrent greets you so warmly
and my arms wilt in perpetual offering
cold, so very cold when you were near,
and even colder in your absence
how permanent it seems to me
how permanent it likely is
my thoughts surge ahead of me
and when i catch up, they're massive
i wage war with the rival nation of paranoia
its stretch expands and subsides
and i keep it at bay
but now, i fear that it knows my weakness
and it knows you're gone
the fortification constant, now an edifice solitary
i love alone,
i fall alone,
i die alone.