Dial Tone By Bo-Edward Lawrence

Dial tone 

All I can hear when I call your phone. 

The echoes sound like distant moans.

The ring sounds like wounded angels trying to sing.

Pitch black shadows lean as the light of my screen breathes on my skin 

My fingers ache from pressing call with no answer at all 

Voices I hear in the distance linger in my mind like schizophrenic thoughts 

Your voicemail I memorized after hearing it a thousand times . . 

Goosebumps fills my valley like skin.

I tremble although in the sheets. 

I feel cold although alone ❄️

Swallowing ice I can see my breath take shape of frozen ghosts. 

I am cold yet alone accompanied by demons singing your dial tone. 

Yo. . 

Your. . 

Dial tone sounds like a broken song. 

A faulty note. 

A flawed symphony . 

I await to hear your voice on the other end of the lingering notes. 

But all i am ever left with. 

Is a never ending

Never changing

Dial tone. . 

-Bo-Edward Lawrence

Best Friend By Bo-Edward Lawrence

Euphoric Nights By Bo-Edward Lawrence

(see full image)

I just want to make love to you 

In the back seat swearing like an athlete

Seat back 

Listening to party next door

Sipping Henny please god no more no more 

don't let the tree hit the floor

These sins that can turn a good girl into whore

Sins that she'll later pay for

My Suicide Note by Bo-Edward Lawrence

My Suicide Note

You know i never thought i would be alive long enough to write this poem.

Witnessing God in my dreams, talking to me

I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. 

As sad as that sounds.

It was almost like a reverse nightmare, 

usually when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. 

I woke up into a nightmare.

I woke up to the sounds of my knuckles knocking on the devils gate. 

I am not his advocate..

God forgive me for my sins.

My angel wings have been burned off my aching skeleton 

The pain i feel is more traumatizing and genuine as if i was a war veteran

sleep is the cousin of death and suicide is its closest relative

This cold barrel to my dome, never made me afraid but for some reason i feel like I’m going home.

God, I’m coming home

They say every second, minute, and hour of the day you write your future, your story.

There were many times i wished i could tear out some of the pages, but instead i always feel like burning the entire book.

its all bad! 

The entire world is against me. 

Can someone. . 

Tell my mother that she is the kindest angel i have ever known

and my father, thank you for teaching me how to be a man.

Tell them I’m sorry that this life lesson doesn’t feel like a blessing but instead like a curse.

Tell the reporters that i was never into drugs or a criminal 

just make sure they don’t sell me to the world as a bad person.

I raise home to my head and put it next to my temple 

and i reflect . . . .

The easiest thing in life is to quit. The hardest thing in life is to live.

Just to know that all my pain, all my hurt can end with a pull of a trigger. . 

I want my death to be beautiful, i want my death to be meaningful. would it be considered beautiful if i scattered my brains on this windshield as my old thoughts create a Picasso.

I don’t want to be the man that nobody knows until he commits suicide, and then everyone had a class with him.

Sometimes home isn’t the answer, sometimes running away isn’t the right thing to do. 

I want to be known as the one who stared down the barrel of a gun and found enough beauty to look away. 

and live. . .

The Strongest Girl I Ever Met By Bo-Edward Lawrence