broke my heart
broke my trust
broke my mind, apart
broke my sense of something
beginning, a start

broke the words,
hate now, text
broke the feeling i had,
what may come next

never did i plan
to love you like i did
you didn't seem to mind it
until i vanished from "the moment"
you live.

you broke me, yes
but i guess i needed it, best
done by someone as blind, selfish
as you
no malice, your intent
just a lack of caring for anyone
but you
so i guess that's progress,
on my road, so much "bent"

out of shape, experiences, twisted
found a place in my heart,
purity found, not resisted

all those moments, i looked
felt you, "heaven on earth"
no regrets, i refuse to play the game
your "undeserving" mind games,
self worth

gifted chameleon
you broke me, your innocent eyes
and avoidance "in the moment"
i believed you, beyond
your many told lies,
told to yourself
and put upon others,
you can't help yourself
man of melt into the form of
who you're around,
you become the "everyone else"

now i see it, know it
and for myself, the truth
do i walk away broken
by the mirage of your beautiful

and own it.

bowen hart roselli
26 december 2020
ringwald love

 

broke me.

the hope,
the heart,
the "not again", end,
fall apart.

the forced "new start",
the "never saw it coming",
you, your lightning rod,
then watching you dart

away.
outta here, vanished
plenty, your promises
meant nothing,
mere words, wasted,
you, manic?

who knows, who cares
an expert, am i
at the "life isn't fair"
bullshit parade
of spectacle and silence
so what if my pleasure
is sex bordering on violence

separate
the love from the lust
the truth from the trust
the tender from the thrust
the " it matters" from "the must"

can you, or someone, please explain
the reason we put ourselves
through so much pain
the torment of trying, so hard, in vain
when it all seems to end,
in the same place, "love drained"

devoid of consistency,
anything, always
too many hearts, lost,
they linger in the hallways

the hotel of my heart,
get them out, get them gone
"thoughts", for each other
i thought they mattered,
i was wrong...

but you,
the one I'd fight forever
to keep
don't ask me why,
you, the come back,
in complete

doesn't make sense,
i guess that's the point
just call me the jukebox,
and we'll call you "the joint"

the one that houses the music,
the madness,
the one that encapsulates
emotions that encompass
all spectrum's, realms
from deep joy, despair, sadness

never planned, prepared,
it was you
but all i did, i felt it, the truth
and in return, you "black eyed"
and bruised
made everything all about
the gaping wound that is you

took reciprocation,
made it a deviation
took a real team,
and destroyed it,
you, "the runaway", relation

to anyone and anything
that sees right through, to your soul
"your sting"
a gifted chameleon,
underneath, fragile, weak
so of course, determined
to destroy what you seek

broken, again
and let me repeat
the holes, heart plenty
as i try to salvage, what soul left,
light leaks

so sick, tired, exhausted
by the genuine love,
like a passerby, accosted
"beat the shit out of"
for seeing, believing in "beautiful"

but fuck me, the one
like a servant, enslaved, ever dutiful

to "the cause", of care, concern
build a bonfire, watch it burn
watch it all become, all about you
disembowel the divine, in the connect
you did too

to me, formed a "we"
but i guess, "no big deal"
who knew, it so easy
to find, flower, conquer
another heart, someone true
someone real

i guess it's me,
who doesn't "the score"
once a whore, twice "a bore"
alive in things
like deep affection and "adore"

shit, that here,
doesn't matter much, anymore

broken here,
responsible,
scrape myself off the floor

and get back up, get back out
smile, all the bigger
learn "the jig", up, from the jigger

be like you,
selfish to the core
therefore successful in succumbing
to eviscerating, evaporating
all the hurt, hope, happenings,
hearts, came before

for the quest of "me",
now ready, and suppressed
for success

if i can manage to put myself
back together,
with you, somehow etched,
stuck inside me

but pretending it not,
"last chance" to get it right,
like everyone else

we'll see.


bowen hart roselli
29 december 2020
ringwald love 

never knew you
were supposed to
hide your heart
play a part
fake your art
steal your cart

put
me above you
lies before truth
words before soul
take before toll

as in, the toll it takes on you
living a life trying to give
equals screwed

by the majority,
fuck "moral"
like the choir in the choral
assembly assembled for the sake
of the gain
so sobs the angels, left like road kill
in pain

from simply trying to be
something more human
than what they see
all around us, the "vacant with glee"
just deny what is happening,
the destruction of intimacy, bleed

no time for a phone call,
no time for real care
no time for anything
that doesn't involve technology
and "media, social",
if not an easy ego boost illusion
then what does it mean,
when you don't exist then,
"who cares?"

that would be few
as in fewer, far between
good luck if you are on your own
none of that easy swallowed shit
like a partner or a family

all the things
that make the masses,
oh so happy, fists full of "sappy"
shovel it down,
as in shove it on through
"success!" is the "see me"
and mine, so posed and perfect
thus proved

"all is good and yes, i've made it!"
no one knows the secrets, outdated
things like "the struggle"
or the pain, underneath
make sure there are no stains
on those sheets

that you use to cover all your shit,
all your bull
brain cells, devoid
it's all "sound bites" in skulls

i never knew
it was all a game
and so me, yes "the loser"
i have no one but myself to blame

if everyone's doing it
i should've been screwing it
but my thing doesn't work that way
has nothing to do with prison cells
"straight or gay"

has more to do with
the invisible, inside
an identity, a soul
attached to a heart
i could not figure out how to hide

and so i sank
instead of swim
watched prospects of progress
through my hands, run thin...

cuz this world,
gotta be playing games, always
all the boys i like
prefer psycho bitches
parading down their hallways

so then me, "just too easy"
"too nice, too there",
gentle winds, blow my "breezy"
so i bent my backwards to "sleazy"
and found a devouring darkness
that would make many real queasy

so "fuck it", i tried
had to leave that behind
turns out, just never good enough
to be the one to light the heaven
inside another's loving, adoring eyes

"ok, I'll accept it",
cuz what else can you do
chalk up my life to a waste of dreams
and energy, misguided truth

amongst the madness, the sadness
of all the things
i thought, felt that mattered,

turns out i was wrong.

it was all the things
i never wanted to believe,
therefore never learned,
until too late, "the awake"
days of despair, lonely, long

now my undoing,
but "death by a thousand cuts"
at least, in the end

makes you strong.

and i know, when i walk alone
in silence, no more words
past all the lovers, entwined
arm in arm

in motion, my emotions
and thoughts, "somewhere else"

that somewhere, not here
is exactly the place
I've always known, i belong

(and as such, no surprise
my lack of success, just an utter
failure at love, plus everything here)



bowen hart roselli
26 december 2020
ringwald love

 curse of the writer.

no deep experience, feeling
should go unexpressed, unwritten
just like adam said to eve,
"let's not leave that apple unbitten"

"it's glistening there, so ripe,
just for us, friends of innocence,
lovers of the sun"...

yet "damned", don't we know
what their mistake caused
some mistakes can't be undone
or re-thought

after the fact, after the shame
i know this well,
a masochist, master, at self blame

cutting myself up,
from the inside out
isn't self hatred, what's being
"just a human" is all about?

"nothing that memorable"
in a sea of beautiful bodies
who cares, who stops, take notice
if most, within, are empty and rotting

that's what it seems,
that's what it feels
place of "me first" grabs and steals

of the light, "the spot, the lime"
of every dollar and every dime
to add to bank accounts, so stuffed
to live your dreams,
it's a matter of "must"

be.like.everyone.else.
"get with it"
and if you can't
"then just forget it"

hopes and wishes,
in the wind, they cry
so bleeds the man with no one
at his side

for longer than, the fleeting moment
if you're gonna pay a price,
then at least you can own it

the reality that,
you live in your own reality
and on "mockings and cockings"
you developed quite an ingrained
"doomed mentality"

the violence of sex,
the sex of violence
learned it by ten,
what "esteem" was, this "mine-ness"

called escape from the body
and a flee from "the self"
spent 48 lifetimes,
dying, trying, to be somebody else

never got it right, for long
seems that's the gift
reserved only for the strong

and all the laughter,
that aforementioned "mocking"
mix that with the unzipped pants,
face plant, "cocking"

the feel of the belt, cheap leather
on my cheek
oh, so many evils, that the awake
cannot speak

curse of the writer,
or just an " out to pasture, put" cocksucker

too many times, too many lines
fed them, read them
as truth, lost my mind...

but never my heart,
that's the other curse, it seems
"too big, too much, too intense",
no one needs

"over thinking", "over feeling",
see where it gets you,
see where it leads...

think, return to the beginning,
"crazy kids", adam and eve
blame it on the temptation to try
to "love more", to believe

when merely
"human isn't good enough",

as a kid, that knowledge,
burned into me
'cuz what i witnessed "humans"
doing to one another

i could never let myself be.

and though far from perfect,
flawed and fractured, to forever
curse of the writer,
you cannot say, if i loved you
did i not mean it, show it
write it in the sky, for you, whether

or not you "got it",
felt anything, similar, back

some of us, struck here
surrounded, the insight,
what this land truly lacks

(real love, unwavering, and a truth
of heart, innocence, tenderness
worth coveting, treasuring, savoring)

for you, i felt it,
beyond rational, or wounds,
understanding
and so i risked it all
beyond shame and "that apple"
me, here, just a "forbidden fruit"
bearing the curse of the writer
and the "out pour of my heart"

for the backlash, the back, fall
"silence is golden" and "normal"
therefore, the less words the better
reminded, time and again,
the apple, crumbled and ripe,
the "not again" sin,

reprimanding.

bowen hart roselli
12 december 2020
ringwald love

 panic attack.
(off the trail, off the track)


all the little particles of matter,
what do exactly, here, they form?
something quite unusually unusual,
someone here beyond the realms
of "the norm"

shadows of a stranger, forming
steps towards the winds, fate, storming
brewing, building, bursting through
all it was, i thought i knew

sight askew, as "slightly off"
different stations, different troughs
that we feed and drink, ordained
some here laughing, some in pain

different avenues, different streets
different thread counts, stated,
our sheets

that we hop in, "jump in the sack"
some claw pillows, preyed,
panic attacks

while some, their beds made
latest lover, while love, it fades
it's a bitch, a burden, a becoming
quite bruising
to wake up, aged,
never "making the grade"

unless "f" is for fabulous,
"d", is divine
"c" is for caring,
"b", the heart bleed, hope, "be mine"
and "a", is the last,
in this reverse, universe
"a" is for the apathy, averse
to recognizing, in deep empathy,
a curse...

to "get too close"
to the fire, the flame
an enmeshment, entwinement
for far too many, this state unknown
or acted, as if on a stage, all a game

boundaries of belief,
crossed over into twilight
nuance of noir, filmed, so framed
monochrome, black and white

"the zone", it convenes,
"is it you or is it me?"
and so he walks, ever onward, alone
unable to stop thinking, feeling
as the words, they flood,
then fade, to remind him
the search, it seems,
is his only way, wayward

forward, vision of home.

(harry reems)....


bowen hart roselli
7 december 2020
ringwald love

 the kindest man i felt i knew

...and if all i have is this now,
then it's the one thing
that i never knew...

i may never know
who you truly are
but could you spare me a moment
of thought, even feeling
to possibly wonder
if you know, under your skin, who i am,

or so the mystery proves...

elusive...distant, removed.

(but yes, I'll die trying, fractured light, the sun soaked,
walking to the end of the earth, proved..
just as i tried, and died again
wholeheartedly, with, and amongst,
the unspoken of you)

the kindest man, i felt so deeply,
i knew.


bowen hart roselli
6 december 2020
ringwald love