This Time It Is Your Turn To Listen Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

A play on ones needs.
Crimes of necessity.
A life shortly lived.
Misgivings not in the heart but in the mind.
Running from another high tide.
Hail is the glory of the already sinking vessel.
For it has served us well.
Servitude straight out of a novel written from the abyss of hell.
But as the aging clock continues to count.
And regret mounts brick by brick.
A sun dial designed with nothing but a broken stick.
Measurement inch by inch.
If it was so good why weren't they any encores.
Chants of the we want more.
Abandon by foreshadowing truth.
Some wrongs can not be undone.
Surely they do happen upon this very dangerous stage.
But if the question is what is truly desirable?
Then I think not.
A path that goes full circle.
Again upon the ears comes this constant ringing.
A dull yet irritable sound.
That you try to drive away by what ever means you have at your disposal.
A complete numbness while attempting to put your head through a brick wall.
Painting yourself in to early grave.
If your absolutely quite you can here my soul bitter screams.
Bitter very last cries, and in that moment you realize he is human.
He is not perfect, he does not measure up to your expectations.
From the wrong generation, try get across the wrong equations.
A body completely motionless.
How can one pretend to be happy when they are not.
Faking it in a padded room, how unfortunate yet so true.
So crazy about you, yet full of so much disgust.
Digesting these mixed emotions like they are but a mere appetizer.
When is the full course meal coming because I'm still waiting?
Procrastinating and debating.
So afraid of being too hasty, knowing all too well the importance of this choice.
Trapped by the disguise of empty ploy.
A promise made not by words but by body language.
Being lead on in the acts of kindness.
A trade to be whisked away.
A empty bottle of whiskey to leave lay.
Some say bottoms up but I can not.
I gave it up so long ago.
Parting is this party ego.
Celebration of misery.
Laid upon me as if I should feel guilty.
That is your life story, not mind.
Favors oh how sweet the flavors.
But only if I can leave right after.
No more day dreaming in the hidden shadows.
We must come to this understanding.
Because the therapist has already clocked out.
With emotions of continuous doubt.
Where silence turns into unending shouts.
Who will quell the angry beast when I'm gone?
The victimless victim.
Sorry if you missed me.
But I just could no longer deal with it.
And we must not have a repeat.
Don't bring me into it so personally.
Leave the past in transit.
For I have time for it.
There is only one future.
And we must journey there with nothing but the clothing on our backs.