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haley Nov 2017
As I am falling backwards,
time and energy escape
my ever so desperate grasp

Yet I am made of matter,
it does not occur that I do
to anyone in the surrounding rooms

and I feel alone

The existence I am in space
only feels like another waste
of this mortal potentiality

and I am sorry
haley Jul 2017
A woman full of menace and desire;
Freckles laced upon a pale complexion,
wide eyes colored a misty sapphire,
and ink-like locks resting in opposition.

As an artist amidst her painted skin
she dreamt of love and moonlit nights,
confidence arose from a source within
while summoning her mystical insights.

Masses of books sprawled across a desk,
drawings with notes and candles afire,
a scene she considered quite picturesque;
a place of confinement in which she conspired.

A woman who is known by many monikers:
sorceress, occultist, clairvoyant, bewitcher.
In the form of Shakespearean sonnet rhyme scheme
haley Jul 2017
Some days I feel the need to express
how I feel through words on a page
but instead I retreat, nonetheless,

to a darkness of solitude
where I tend to spend my time
concentrating on one’s fortitude.

Lethargically indifferent as I seem,
it is a façade that deeply masks
the emotions within my bloodstream.

The idol of being a helpless maiden
has eluded me of my reality;
For I keep myself barricaded in

this lonesome, desolate lair,
protected by my own unfortunate mind,
dwells as a pit of endless despair.

Shall I ever awake from such a dream
composed of awful, evil things
or is this, perhaps, the new regime?
haley Jun 2017
lately the days have felt — long;
long with a touch of sadness
but this touch leaves more than a fingerprint;
an imprint soaking into the depths of my skin
like a drop of dark ink spreading through
a glass of once-clear water, now poisoned.
while the nights feel cut short,
the darkness fills me with bittersweet comfort.
it is calm, cool, and quiet and i am as content
as i am when the sunlight kisses my shoulders,
the warmth eases my tired soul
but it does not remove the ache in my chest.
the crackle of vinyl records
spark long awaited inspiration,
yet no words form and
no image paints this blank canvas.
an artist stuck in their own mind
does not make them less of one,
however,
the emptiness is a haunting void;
a sickness barricading creativity
from the so desired expression
craving to satisfy a blooming universe;
an overpowering slump — thick tar covers me
i am unable to move; it squeezes tighter
as i try to escape this entity
i want to scream but i choke on my words
while gasping for a small breath of air
i sink down
engulfed and surrounded
i regain composure as i close my eyes and drift.
the morning will soon come
and the song will repeat once again
haley Jun 2017
I hated the color yellow;
too wasteful
too bright

I hated the color pink;
too "girly"
too weak

but now that I've
grown & matured
I have learned to
love & appreciate
the color I can see

Yellow
has become
sunflowers,
a vinyl box,
& a picture frame

while

Pink
has become
candles,
dyed hair,
& your lips
haley Jun 2017
it's no wonder
people like you end up in hell

the flames will melt your

cold
cruel
heart

into the tears
of those you've made cry

the ashy smoke
will make your eyes

swell
with
water

just the same
haley Jun 2017
you cannot
create
something

and then just
abandon
it

because
I will
not
walk a
one-way street

and if you think
planting kisses
on my
lips
will keep this alive

then you are
pathetic

because
I am
not
a love machine

that you
can fill up
with
spare change

just to
empty
your pockets
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