A Fine Suited Man With Terrible Inklings

A fine suited man with terrible inklings

Hands on her shoulders; easy to confide

Pouring drinks & erasing her sadness

Falling by the wayside with time & tide

Beauty is merely a natural configuration

Each button gone, an uncontrollable urge

His intentions told with a silent tongue

Embraced & now they lovingly merge

I Don’t Know What The Hell I’m Doing

Photo by Alex Azabache on Pexels.com

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing
I’m just trying to feel my way through
This existence offers many pitfalls
Working within our struggles, those Blues
There’s only one way to survive here
You’ve got to continue to fight your urges
Finding the right path to paradise
Piecing together words to sing the dirty dirges

Creep Villanelle 

Resisting the urge to flatter
Never taking such a leap
Beauty the heart of the matter
Ignored in your idle chatter
Left feeling like a forgotten heap
Resisting the urge to flatter
The thoughts come, but soon scatter
Keeping me from peaceful sleep
Beauty the heart of the matter
Love served on a silver platter
A tarnished memory much too cheap
Resisting the urge to flatter
My soul simmered to splatter
But our dreams aren’t that deep
Beauty the heart of the matter
Your image makes me all a-patter
Never wanting to come off as a creep
Resisting the urge to flatter
Beauty the heart of the matter