Someday never comes 

Busted pieces

Faulty parts

Dead eyes

Cold hearts

There’s no use in trying

To save what’s sunk

There’s no use in holding

On to what’s junk

The city of stars

Is under a starless sky

The city of sunshine

Is where light comes to die

It’s a fraud

It’s a fake

It’s the kind of city that will make

And break

You into the worst

But first

It will take

You

And

It will blind you

With the illusion

And then fill you up with confusion

Until you

are no longer you anymore

Love means nothing Here

It’s just a word people throw around and use

and abuse.

There’s no use in trying

There is no use in trying

-Kyoko Cole 2017

A fight I can’t win 

I used to try 

But now I see 

That it ain’t me 

That’s the problem  

And you can believe 

Whatever you make up in your head 

But I see 

What’s actually reality 

And you just don’t. 

Everything you do is like toxic glue 

It’s easy to stick to you 

I thought you loved me too

But now I see that you don’t love me at all 

Emotional abuser 

Manipulator user 

Narcissistic paranoid accuser 

A liar 

A blamer

A child 

A shamer

Just a loser 

Who’s gonna  lose in the end 

Cause you can’t grow 

If you think you know 

It all  

But clearly you know nothing 

But a bunch of bullshit 

You’ve Brainwashed yourself to believe 

Where is your heart?

You have no heart 

No love

No care 

You’re a little angry man 

Unaware 

Of what really matters 

Unable to ever change 

Amateurs (don’t take things or this so seriously)

Thirteen ways

To kill your lover 

A hundred and one ways to die 

It pays 

To be 

Cemented in your ways

Or does is pay to be 

Wild in the streets

Like a wild card 

Jump up jump around 
New York girls

Are too hip

As they hop

To the top 

of the Empire state building 

Which I don’t care to ever climb 

A Hot house
As Cold 

As your unbearable heart

Finish what you start, you say

As everything slowly starts to shift 

Deterioration, they said

Right before it was dead 

It was everything that ever was

That is not a thing any more 

That couple over there 

Kindly lent their owner

To the dogs 

Frequencies are 
Less frequently

Felt in the air 

The less we care

The more we 

Dread

The dead

That’s a coming

Round the bend 

So buckle up partner 

It’s coming to the end 

The perfect partner

Of An imperfect pair 

Doesn’t dare 

Taunt

The electronic wizard 

Or 

The human lizard

But will haunt 

The Spirit hunter

And the Catholic priest 

Who will soon sit down  

For the mighty feast 

And break some bread 

And both get fed  

The last supper 

Is a coming soon 

Blasted allegories
Blast past noon 

You are Not there

In the making

the making that never was 

Was never there within you

  Take me to the river 

Drown me in the water

Let it cover me up 

And Let my body sink low 

The more you say

The less you know 

Misleading 

Misreadings

Draw on you now

Like the raise of an arm 

And the hand that signals the alarm 

To wake up 

Wake up 

WAKE THE FUCK UP

Before it’s too late  

wait it already is …

-kyoko cole 2017

wpid-fb_img_1433252247824.jpg

there’s no other way

there’s no other way
and no other day
to say
goodbye
all the things
i would, would not
and could never say
but now i need to go away
i really did try
day after day
just to get by
some things are for letting go
some things we must learn to let die

wpid-fdebf888278e6cd6125f497e049fcf78.jpg

poisoned brain

don’t want to try
to do anything different
than what hasn’t worked
a whole life time
but it’s never you

or it always you
but that’s just what you’ve expect for yourself
even though you are more than that
sometimes

but sometimes isn’t enough i guess

when you don’t see it

and when you don’t care

how can anyone else?

5661501

db8b675f670bbf1b5403f5710218926bfb911024_m

tumblr_l8y7l0i3qN1qdbbywo1_500

Not your ex

Treat me like I am
But I’m not.
Treat me like I am
I don’t care.
And I won’t
So
I.dont
And you
Can
Do whatever you like
Say whatever you will.
Fill whatever you fill
Love somebody else
And I will do the same.
You don’t want to play this game
But you do
With
Everyone else
And I
Don’t care
As long as you are happy
I’m happy you are happy

wpid-img_20150423_19113468.png images-2 351492280_9455971ea1_z
.

i used to write (i’m writing now)

i used to write
my heart out
without any doubt
without any fright
but somewhere along the heartache and years
there seems to be a build up of unsound fears
that accumulate
in a frantic state
inside an emotional ride
takes me to the other side
automatic
erratic
sick and unfit
the only way out
is to move through it

be silent and still
and in the right state of mind
i find
myself
and know myself
better than to let
any thing or anyone
get
me down –
the truth is those things don’t matter to me
i matter to me
knowing myself is what sets me free
-k.c.

dalmur0091

the ghost of my friends

This is not a prison.

This is a trap.

I am the bait.

___________________________________________________________

Having balls is a good thing
having raw passion is a good thing and a rare thing.
To have both passion AND balls is what makes someone great.
I miss the great ones

I miss the lovers
and the dreamers/creators
I miss the artists
I miss the tortured souls- the poets…the journeymen …
and I mean the real ones
the real risk takers
the real love makers
the ones that do what they were born to do
unafraid of being who they really are
the ones that live for what they love
and the ones that love to love.
it has nothing to do with image
and everything to do with heart and soul
and pure being
I miss the truth in them
I miss their passion
I miss having them around
I miss them knocking at my bedroom window at 3am
driven by desire
driven by love
and…That feeling –
that wonderful feeling of hope and wonder
and the excitement in life and love
I miss the fire

0ecf18ea42427dd1331500d078f1ff0e

-kyoko cole  2008

Listen, quiet, still

crowlampay7

there is emptiness
crossings on corners
she is draining down
her eyes on green wave

truths scratched from the dirt
his false shadow, painted skin
listen, quiet, still

blood becomes a time bomb
she is stardust she is earth
old and broken down

ghosts of factories
the folding skeletons of past on fire
transportation for the dead

time is like sandstone, wearing away
there’s a haze above the street signs
she is turning to stone

the grain from straw
neon road bars
beating wings

There is emptiness
Dark and heavy
Haunting the space within

-Kyoko Cole
2013