Addiction

At what point do we cross
That unforgiving line?
There’s a point on the line
Where we hand over all control
And simply wander forward,
But that point is almost
Impossible to return to
When you need to claw your way
Home.

© twotypesofink 2014

Tearing

You told me to always travel North
Never turn back,
Never regret my previous step,
I can only follow your advice
So far,
You gave me a compass
That did not point south
That could not point
To you,

© twotypesofink 2014

Shared Halo

We cannot agree on a colour
You’ve gone with stereotypical
But mine is more representative
To follow one path would be foolish
No journey is without potential for
Improvement and
Variation.

© twotypesofink 2014

Toll

Forget the price
You cannot live waiting
The glass is not half empty:
It’s barren,
It’s old and used
And left behind.
The ribbon has expired
Replace it,
Take the chance
Write a new story
Erase the shadows
From your eyes.

© twotypesofink 2014

Attempted Rekindling

Have you noticed?
The years slipping by!
I recognised their passing
But the meaning eluded me
Until I saw you,
And didn’t recognise you.
Where did that time go,
Those ideas that never reached fruition
Words exchanged on forgotten sheets
Roads diverging,
Maps redrawn,
Storms introducing havoc
Everything slipping by…

Death March

It’s not uniform
No one ‘type’ is admitted
Wealth does not buy you a ticket
Home,
Age is not a factor
Nor does gender dictate when you board.
Some trudge forward, walking canes in hand,
Some take their first ever steps here
The young, the hopeful,
The sick, the veterans,
This is our final march
Eventually we all fall in line.

Fallen Too Far?

Our generation was plagued with faults
Still is, and always will be
It’s human nature
No one’s perfect
But we were followed by…
Something different
The English language has been attacked
Violently, without mercy
Friendship means backstabbing
Relationships break apart faster than waves
Fences are never mended
Merely patched with staples
Just waiting for tomorrows fight.

Emaciated Clouds

Enclosed by chains,
Hidden behind tinted glass,
Guarded by a library of riddles
Lies the weather controller
Yet we’ve gathered locksmiths
Deployed bomb experts
Raided the room
Left nothing but debris.
Sand dunes host snowmen
Igloos boast sand sculptures
Clouds now congregate and dissipate
Without ever fulfilling their purpose.

Recalculating Route

This road we’re following
It’s not right for us
I’m sure when you travelled it
There were no potholes
No roadblocks,
We need to turn back
Discard your map
At the crossroads
There are two of us now.

Singed Ribbon

Memories of friends
Hidden deep within the ribbon drawer
The Elders wouldn’t approve;
Bonfires purge the next generation
Old reasoning’s tossed aside