Temporarily insane
playing your little game
partly furnished
inside my head
only not working
if I should be dead
Temporarily out of order
please excuse the mess
you’ve caught me on an off day
How can I be my best?
© Kait King, 2015
dead
The Creation
I lie in the quiet
of the solid dark
A fractured individual
with a many fragmented heart
I don’t regret the past
but I struggle to see ahead
Life seems to race by way too fast
just to wind up dead
I try to stay well afloat
But here, I’m not the strongest swimmer
Life has me tight around the throat
and has moulded a grateful sinner
© Kait King, 2015
All the ink
There is no other way to write
the truth spills from the soul
an eager hand and frenzied mind
I scribble out my fill
The scratching on the paper
the lead shines the ink glows
what I will write next
I don’t even know
but the truth is how it is easy
to tell what must be said
and there is an urgency in this
as one day we are dead
My fingers ache at times
as I just can’t seem to stop this flow
of words into lines a cadence reached –a drop
The wonder in me wonders
I speak it loud and often think
If I keep on writing like this
Will there be enough ink?
© Kait King, 2015
Among the dead
So the understanding being
that I don’t have to explain myself
that the sky is blue
and life is just because
Now the problem being
that I don’t understand what it is
when you say what you do
when you can’t do it
But the over-lying factor
is the way in which we move
among the dead, the living
dance alone
And I ask myself the question
which life do I fit best in
while you smoke that cigarette
with a flare
© Kait King, 2015
After the Fact
He rolled her up in the carpet
He tied her up real tight
He threw her into the trunk of his car
And screeched out into the night
He knows he must not draw attention
He must slow down his breath and calm
He drove around for hours
With her body in the back of his car
Delusional or clear of mind
It really didn’t matter
He was clear enough to clean up the mess
And removed all her blood he splattered
He contemplated water
He thought about the dump
He thought about a mountain top
He could make it look like she jumped
As dawn approached, a screaming light
His stomach started to rumble
So he drove her through the drive thru
And didn’t miss a beat or fumble
A steady hand held out dollar bills
But his eyes he kept downcast
Not a thought spared for his wife in the trunk
The love that didn’t last
© Kait King, 2015
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