i want your pain… message me and we’ll speak privately of a regret a loss, a pain you’ve experienced in life; i will craft a piece of anonymous prose meant only for you. #whatpainsyouproject #barflypoet #josephapinto
i want your pain… message me and we’ll speak privately of a regret a loss, a pain you’ve experienced in life; i will craft a piece of anonymous prose meant only for you. #whatpainsyouproject #barflypoet #josephapinto
YOUR UNCANNY WAY OF KNOWING How sad, you told me, your eyes no longer dance the symphonies you used to orchestrate no longer echo in your head and yet, you told me, I can hear you scream in the silence, the chords you once struck for the living now a hymn for the dead. ~ …
CINDER AND ASH I fucked it all up, didn’t I? and what I did can’t be undone, can it? I thought I held us firm but wound up squeezing too hard now I’m left staring at the dust and it’s much more painful than looking at your face (which remains angelic, by the way). I’m …
VISIT WITH A BROKEN BODY i went to visit my chiropractor today, i sat in the waiting area, waiting patiently for my broken back and broken neck to receive attention a pull a tug a twist to all my broken parts and then I could say ‘aah, this is better, until tomorrow’ but i sat …
MY OWN GOD TONIGHT Fogged I am, and still I cannot clear my reflection from what I perceive in my mind. The water is as cleansing as the voices in my head; if you stop and listen closely, you will hear them too, beckoning to the infinite ends. Still, I pause to recollect myself, lather …
WICK To twist, to dance, to sway; to catch your smile in gilded embrace. To live knowing your breath alone will extinguish my existence. © Copyright 2015 Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.
BOWED STILL I STRIDE Your purpose seems hell-bent on serving to demassify me – when will you learn that unlike the storms that have reshaped your landscape, I will never seek higher ground. I will not compartmentalize to fit any ideal but my own; bowed still I stride, and when your voice hits hurricane pitch …
STRAIN The E.R. seemed quiet a ruined man coughing up ghosts sneezing lies of what home should be an overweight woman bleeding from her soul, condescending son lamenting his late night and they avoid my gaze (well they should) for my pain would serve only to break them. Pretty nurse takes pulse, pressure eyes sparkling …
CONVINCE YOURSELF Do you remember that day you shushed me? Silk finger on my lips stilling… my pulse. Clouds fell and you caught them, dabbed tears from my eyes, stole the sun’s rays, stabbed them through my heart. Mercy killing, so was whispered… still I, I could not talk, not with your fist down my …
MOLD I saw you there; in the half-light of candle you seemed a flickering wraith but the pruned expression with which you regarded me only served to extinguish me further. I wished to reach out, to reshape the face I once recognized but clay only hardens if left to serve testament to air. © Copyright …
Joseph A. Pinto 