Lee W. Deason : Writing

Ahead is where I am. It's where I want to be.

Ahead is where I am. It\'s where I want to be.

A Poem by Lee W. Deason


False alarm, its the wrong phone call. Patiently waiting for the voice of my liking. Gentle to the edge of the haze invading my vision. To tell m..
Smeared images.

Smeared images.

A Poem by Lee W. Deason


Paper dolls play out the scenes I am nervous about. Attempt to hang the thoughts up, to dry out, without the cost. Of being so scared... of a little..
So don't sew these stitches in my forehead.

So don\'t sew these stitches in my forehead.

A Poem by Lee W. Deason


Give association to the memory of this texture, this feeling. Tapestry to match and o so adorable ornaments on your body. Between the cracks in the ..
Infrastucture.

Infrastucture.

A Poem by Lee W. Deason


This speed burns my blood. My words break your eyes. This lack thereof is killing me deeply inside, trust. These holes that I stare at... laugh bac..
(I'm) passing out in 3rd person.

(I\'m) passing out in 3rd person.

A Poem by Lee W. Deason


Lean against the wall... Lean on anything stable... Are you listening? "The question is tightening." Metaphorically you take another swing at me. H..
Misunderstood over expression into the mattress.

Misunderstood over expression into the mattress.

A Poem by Lee W. Deason


How dare you touch my face,with fingers that only erase? What's got you so viscously wrapped around the ropes. Is that I showed you dead hopes? Remo..
Reasons for our fatigue.

Reasons for our fatigue.

A Poem by Lee W. Deason


Tempting tempting, tipping icebergs with metal fingers. Nothing cold can touch, what is in my clutch. My beautiful treasure, from miles away. [i]Cu..
Ink colored mind rays. Go to sleep.

Ink colored mind rays. Go to sleep.

A Poem by Lee W. Deason


Struggle expression from the ground. A sly pick for the day. Rob the best chance you have got for the price. The price on your head is hunting you d..
Call it inhuman.

Call it inhuman.

A Poem by Lee W. Deason


O, tonight was living in color. Imagination was a bad child. My dreams spelled horror. To come in my door. Throwing knives at an innocent woman, and..
My church has been steel.

My church has been steel.

A Poem by Lee W. Deason


Infrared blinks twice at my understanding, my eyes falling into puddles. Tethered by limbs still letting go. Branches invade our churches. Stain gla..