Sydney La Roche Poems

Ingrained inside my coffee-stained soul,
Is a sweet vanilla-fudge toffee flavoured hole,
With a damsel in distress: A Disney Princess,
With a cigarette-smile, spouting sentiments I can't repress.
...

Poverty. He wants me.
He infects me like HIV.
Like a cancer of the soul,
Of which I can't let go.
...

Why can't keys and broken pens pierce the skin?
Why must I venture into the kitchen?
Is there nothing sharp underneath my bed,
So I can secretly shed my old hide?
...

I appreciate this battle's lost.
Velvet violins dulcify despair.
Tabla's pound and pennies are tossed,
As angelic anguish adorns the air.
...

Agony lasts an eternity.
It dims with time but never dies,
Like heiroglyphs adrift in time.
...

Swallowing silence burns like Tesco Value Vodka.
The time-bomb-clock's tick-tock's stop in shock,
At the painful pining, reminiscent of a battered toddler.
...

Reason and logic are cruel mistresses.
Reality lures me into dangerous lands,
Like a flag for a bull, they wave their red dresses
And entrap me inside these razor-torn hands.
...

You, with the turbulent spark in your eyes,
Disgrace me with counterfeit decorum;
And feed me with your artifice and lies.
My eyes shut tight, I approach the forum...
...

I have nothing to say.
Not a single line.
It all sounds the same.
It all sounds benign.
...

I don't lust for imprisonment,
Or ignorance of a blissful life.
I place trust into my torment,
Bleeding like my veins through time.
...