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Jonny Brackney Poems
sometimes i feel the devil and his dirty eyes watching. haunting me.
A Hard Thing Put Simply
there is no such thing as broken hearts, only broken minds.
Between The Lines
so this is where we are, where we will always be. stuck between our words misread,
A Splendid Little Evening
got another one last night. a splendid little
cold air knives
Act Ii - The Invention Of Cheese
anxious dazed driving ferociously steady through Alabaster
Spun Into A Numb
that trusted liquid takes its toll carries my thoughts away.
here you are, spinning with me slow painting me in
The Beast In Lady East
she met me on that famous road dressed all stylish and hip. trying to intimidate. trying to impress.
The Perverted Wave
if i could choose to be anything, i'd be a
Remember, Little Writer, You'Re A Slave ...
just a poet. not a hero.
in order to be consumed by music... you've got to have it loud.
I Know Dead People
growing up i never thought i'd know people who are dead
each time i finish a poem i feel that it is perfect. then i read it
sometimes i feel the devil
and his dirty eyes
burning me alive...
inviting me to fall
into a comfortable numb.
but in that numb
a hatred dwells, smirking in the shadows.
i shrug him off and
pretend he isn't there.
my inner madness spills into a
thin black ink.
so you can read
what your eyes
while i sit
spitting thoughts from my fingers.
hurting and feeling.