Between the alleys of disgust and defeat,
I rest without sleep,
Run without the support of my feet,
And stand as tall as a man standing about 3 feet…


This is reality playing an adjusted emphasis…
Plaguing channels of empty nothingness…

This is the reality of a pen scribbling the definitions of a life that doesn’t end,
Ink tarnishing the vision;
An imagination that performs only within aisles of imprisonment…
Confined to a room with no sunlight,
Decorated with black walls and the image of a full moon at midnight,
Accented with the staleness of affection
That has lead to places where the direction
Nestles in the tarnished outlook of happiness and survival…
Where the bible is dark as it is empty,
Simply as the turn of marriage,
Simply as the urn of a close knit parish,
Call it my family,
Or recognize it as the death of me…

These thin alleys of disgust and defeat
Where the walls listen to words that possesses no mean,
And the meanings are misunderstood
As the only lonely listens to the sounds
Of emptiness brushing against the ground,
Caressing my face – the hands of the wind,
Massaging the walls of this alley,
Where nothing knows of me,
Besides the pain that rests within what this midnight sees.

Written/Submitted By: Je’Tarri Vinnisinni & ThoughtsofMyPen.com ©All rights reserved.