Poem By: Raymond Bundotich


My eyes have been open too long

It’s hard to tell what’s real

And what a product of my dream is

Hours going by like a sad song, so long so short

Buried in thoughts, senselessness

Smells like rotten eggs

Is it in my mind, thoughts growing old?

Is it me?



I’ve been stuck here too long, I’m numb

Torture is statues

To always wear one face, a state of emptiness

Smiles scowls, I’m just stretching my skin

This drawing is too plain

My relationship with life is an arranged marriage

Torture is me

Passion, the faulty gearshift

It’s a long rough drive



Fantasy meet reality

Meet the undead, zombie isn’t my name

I’m just waiting for the afterlife

I’m like an ignorant with a pot of knowledge

Gibberish to the poor soul

Empty life, empty days

Time is an amateur on a guitar

Bleeding ears, is there an end to this pain?

Purpose is living oil

nice 1:)

Thanks. I have done better though...have a look and let me know what your thoughts are. thanks again