An Introduction

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http://tlbanks.weebly.com20141109_125217-1[1]Whether it be fantasy or reality or something dirty in between~

It is a reflection of me

And you.


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Never Enough to be Pretty is all the change I have in my pocket- TL Banks


Quietly On the Mend

It’s cool baby…
Purple clouds of smoke hover first
and then I think that I can see into the constellations
clearly beyond here
And you say its okay baby…
Then I think I know answers to questions that I forgot to ask
Like why can’t I and should I and could we…
I’m here baby…
But then I remember
Slowly but surely that the only thing that matters is how long
I get to be here…
Relax baby …
How many days before I cease to exist on this plane
Is all I wanna know
But is it me, is it the weed, is it the alcohol buzz
It’s cool baby…
Is it truth, is it real, is it fantastic illness I itch from mentally?
And you say its okay baby…
I’m here baby-
Relax baby-
It’s cool baby-
And then I wonder, why do you soothe me by calling me a child?






The thing about Lou

My neurotransmitters were on a cigarette break, this time.
My inhibition had left a post it note on my brain that it was gone for the evening and not to wait up.
My dopa-mine levels got a tattoo that read, “fuck waiting” the same day.
Drink one and then drink two…
It’s not my fault my body reacted slowly to the word no and green lights were everywhere.
It’s not my fault that I staggered into the warmest conversation in the vicinity.
It’s not my fault my sexual urges decided to sing their battle cries.
I couldn’t stop the blackout where I temporarily forgot that what I was doing was all kinds of wrong.
I couldn’t stop the trick that instead of true sadness what I felt was, great.
I couldn’t stop the fact that addiction had taken hold and my heart was crying lust.
Then he came, Then he came, then HE CAME. Gentle Stimulation~ over a quick conversation…
So my ventral stria-tum threw confetti in my face.
So my control center behind my eyes saw pleasure and no pain.
So my glutamate got trapped in a ditch and it’s cell signal died.
Drink twenty one and then drink twenty two…
I’m sorry for loosening up so loose enough to let myself act up again.
I’m sorry for not being smart enough to choose smart drugs like Ritalin.
I’m sorry for reverting to the rear view for behavior cues. I’m sorry that I keep hurting you.
Then he went, then he went, now he is gone. Side effect of intoxication~ no retaliation…
Drink thirty one and then drink thirty two…
In me, alcohol is not faithful to you.

2015-10-11 18.50.28

Single Occupancy

Most don’t volunteer to spend a whole evening here
But I did, I did, so I’m strange
Often the padded cell, like a comfy hell
Is a place to disengage
But for me, No honey, not for me
Its the only place that I can be safe
from the liquidy and bubbly star glitter in your eyes
and stupid heart emojis on your face
If it stay out there, in my underwear, screaming at the top of my lungs
Yelling this love aint real and how fuck should I feel
Either way, they would still make me come…
So I walked right in, my jacket on straight
my hair plastered to my skull
claiming that you weren’t the one, I’m completely done
yet you showered me non stop with sticky bull
like Frankenstein when the monster came alive
I instantly regretted the sex potion
Most don’t ask for the leather straps
But I did, I did, so I’m broken
What I thought I wanted and what it turned out to be
Aren’t nearly the same damn thang
Now the rubber room keeps me from you
and you can stop saying I’m everything
stop following me around, stop loving me down
cause apparently I am crazy
But for me, oh honey, but for me
Loving you is way more confining
I’ll take my chances with the 10 by 8 box of protection if it means
I gotta lose you and your drippy ooze just to regain my sanity.


Yard Sale Signs

You’re ready to put a deposit down
On a moving van
A truck full of the nonsense
You should trash but you can’t
Ready to ride the highway
From here down to the coast
Ready to say good bye to
Everything you said you loved the most
I keep saying to think it through
Why buy when you can lease?
Why take the baggage across the land
When the future is a fickle thing?
But you’re mapping out the detours
and I suggest the back roads
You’re betting it all on a hunch
But I say watch the way the wind blows
You’re ready to sell your heart now
Even if you lose equity on the dividends
I say rent it out instead, my love
Since bad tenants leave damage in the end…



Doom and Damnation foretold

You ooze sex, says the beginner, You’re always on my mind and I want you all of the time.
You’re my best friend, says the womanizer, and if I was near you, you know I’d be in your guts.
Be careful, says the master manipulator, don’t do anything rash, if its not with me.
I love you sings the victim. I love you, I love you, I love you. All of you. Now. Trust me.
But you trust the beginner, because he doesn’t know any better.
You trust the womanizer because his agenda is apparent.
You trust the manipulator because if you didn’t he’d be a garden variety liar. He’s better than that.
But the victim makes your chest burn and your eyes bleed.
The victim makes you question the validity of a god.
The victim chooses to see what he wants to see which is the best in you. Always.
And you just so happen to be an activist who advocates for the victims in your heart. It’s your calling.
What else could you do, scared one, but ignore the flattery of villainy and ignorance?

What else could you do, scared one, but try and love an innocent victim to death?


One Weakness

Flying through the air
Harnessed only to the sky
First to take any dare
Especially ones that devour life
Above the ground or in the sea
You face fear in the lighted dark
But when I say do you love me
Your yellow belly grinds you to a halt

Flight Risk

Kids. Everybody is a kid-
Nobody knows what they want …
We all play a safe role
A role we stole, a role we bought
A role we were forced into
Aprons, habits, cloaks and dishonor
Neckties worn by leather crews…
Monocle and moccasins upon us
We’re afraid of each other’s shoes
Kids. And followers. Everybody is weak.-
Scared of tomorrow, scared to be meek
Scared of the reason
Scared of the new moon, scared of each other, scared of typhoons,
Tablets, tabloids, tapestries hiding who they are
A tiny babe, a new born fool , lying by keeping score
Maybe I am the one that you need
Maybe I am just your drug-
Maybe the law hasn’t caught up with me
Maybe I am what you are afraid of
Children, slight, small and deaf
Everybody fits the bill
Drinking from their mother’s teet
Never breaking the seal
Fatigues,khaki shorts, utility belts
Infants cry if its too tight, Arming themselves for us to go to hell,
We think we are undefined, waking, wondering, wanderlust
What do I look like I might do?
Teslas, titans, and trophy wives
History has spoken through-



I want you to want me to want you
but I just want to let you go
like a sprinkle is the precursor to rain
like an argument is the catalyst for pain
you’re not quite, not quite my everything
you’re so close, so close to the feeling
like a child wants to grow and yet
when she does all she wants is to go back
You’re so dedicated so determined and true
you’re so over the top the only believer is you
I want you to want me to want you
but I just want to let you go
like the pedestal sitter I said I’d never be
like the last time I fell for the same trickery
You’re the wind that makes me close the door
You’re the lie that I keep aching for



If my dream had been melody
instead of poetry…
Another path on the page of creativity-
singing for mercy instead of writing
Very only on, for right or for wrong
my vibration wrapped in a cadence of song
no scrambled letters just mixed up tones
I’d be exactly the same but more sins to atone
because when you pursue a different game
It changes where the edges make it the same
Would I have been famous
This is a possibility
and if I were I would have the same convictions infinitely
and the lack of inhibitions that I seem to have
would be unchecked attention whoredom without empathy
the masses drinking in  the words that I spit
and instead of humility I would have started a cult
rampant narcissism being the result
that I write about now in the comfort of my home
otherwise a deviant sociopath I would have been known
and dead on this day I would most likely be
but don’t ever think that you wouldn’t have met me
because in that world we would have crossed paths
and power plus love on top of money never lasts
we wouldn’t exist, so the best future is this way
the pen and not the microphone have been our saving grace…