And whoever thought it’d reach this point?
I am so empty.
I need someone to fill me up, this cavity in my chest.
Nothing I write makes sense,
Nothing I write is honest,
not even this,
why would it when I haven’t been able to feel
anything real in the past twelve months?
I used to be so emotional that I hated myself for it.
Feeling so much beauty for the world
that it felt like my chest would burst.
Having so much love to give that no one wanted to receive
that it felt like my heart would spill over.
And now nothing makes sense anymore.
I’ve stopped living in the grey areas of life,
I’ve been seeing things in black and white.
And everything I write or think is shit.
It’s not real, it’s not real and I
want to rip up this crappy poem
and scream my fucking head off until I can feel
something besides the crinkled edges of paper
on my palms.
I would rather be a little girl
with shards of glass living inside her
not being able to breathe without her ribs
feeling like they might shatter,
than be this zombie immune to pain
shuffling daily through life’s routines,
not caring for the homeless,
not caring for the senile,
not giving two fucks about the
that were killed or are starving in wherever-fucking-country
on the news last night.
I used to think apathy was the secret to life.
That it would be better to feel absolutely nothing
than have to live with the pain of feeling absolutely everything.
But I’d rather write something that nobody likes;
embarrassing cringe-worthy words full of promise that sound like
they were penned by an mentally unstable naive five year old,
than a viral masterpiece that sounds like it was written by
the next Sylvia Plath, devoid of meaning or feeling
besides writing for the sake of writing.
FUCK. FUCKING SHIT.
Where has it all gone?
You Spurred the News; Of course those Hawks will Feed!
Eager for your Tenders from Branches a-wait
Then re-build your Nest which Molests your Seed
Thus re-play this Circus to Exploit your Fate
Here be the Reason why your Living Heart spends
To be this Noble for your Record break
To mellow those Sounds and settle Dust depends
Hoping your Favoured Gestures dictate your Make
Like all which Stars and Muscles bound Beyond
Urge you like the Ox its Bearing Yoke cope
Though be like us Assume your Self a-bound
Such Fault as None our Own by our Measured Scope.
Just pursue your Craft allow such Peace flow
Perhaps by then your Conscience enters now.
You took a shovel and dug out the feelings i had left inside,
You took away my bubble and left an empty pit in it's place.
Am reeling from everything supposed to be there which isn't.
My heart beats yet it's mimicking motions of living.
My chest heaves taking in breaths,
Letting out frustration.
I know I said I let go but guess am a liar.
Or just a fool.
Cause I walked away and expected you to stay.
I turned my back and when you did too the tie between my destiny and yours snapped.
Didn't expect it to hurt as much though.
Like being torpedoed and crushed.
I passed by where we used to hang out,
Got hit in the face by a pair of boobs so big my heart stopped.
Dunno if it's cause I feel i can't compete with that, or maybe am just selfish.
Either way you won.
Couldn't do right by me.
And you got someone you are doing it all for.
I want to be with you
It seems you want to be with me as well
One glitch in the system
You are currently residing across an ocean
Stories of your travels
It's odd though
it seems we've grown closer
living over 3,000 miles apart
Wish I Was There
Wish You Were Here
I can do whatever I want,
I can do whatever I please,
dress myself in dirt and lingerie,
wear my filth on my sleeve,
a whore, a sleaze,
I've just got a fixation
for the darkness that
draws you in,
I hope my eyes are
empty, I hope my pulse
is weak, I get high off
my hearts palpitations,
I'm the yeast in your mouth,
the E. Coli in your bowels,
I'm the scum underneath your nails,
wipe the snot off my lips
and rub it in my cuts,
I'm a walking talking
a living breathing cesspool,
White dusts turn ashes under burnt feet
sinking into a boundless ocean finding
grief most pleasing,
High on perfection
are the echoes in these ears that breathe
swallowing discord whole and
painting the soul in monochrome.
“Are you here?
Where are you?”
“Not here, I’m afraid”
Dead trampled memories of
spots on a wall, in the corner
and around a hall
Bludgeoning of endless dreams
stinging the mind, hive of the dead
that spits out grey, hunger for
nectar of heads. Pitiful, pitiful.
Stare out the window—
“Go forwards, don’t you want to fall?”
“But to fall is to wake up. To wake up
is to be living, to die. Here, I remain as is
wandering the labyrinth of mindfulness. Not a
soul to perturb this wakefulness,
not this watchful eye”
So, here I remain
but no sense of peace goes forever untouched.
on the other side?
what they call a heart, my every anchor chained
what the pages make my story, every loss explained
like words in letters, as if they retain it, like they make it better
as if the knowing of it loosed or broke these fetters
eight ways the shapes of my only alphabet spells s-u-r-v-i-v-o-r
infinitely too short a word and leaving me to wander again if I'm alive in her
they think it breeds strength to outlive the beatings
they think it makes a great chase never retreating in the pursuit of what's fleeting
just once couldn't I rest and feel safe like it could all get clearer?
in the haze of aging when I'm sure it isn't my real smile in any mirror
in the crowded, faceless streets of having to stand on my own two feet alone
with all the hurtful, hateful, squalls this living condones
everyone thinking they know me because they know my name
know the face that's a mask over what's hollowed out by the aches I don't explain
and someone asks me to come near, to be dear, to love again
and they give like gifts and they mend the rifts and they care and then
the cycle of costs begins again, the loss of the friends again breathes
and makes every swallowed wine taste less like escape and reminds that it never relieves
and every candle on a cake burns another year I waited to start over
and every green field yields beauty unnoticed in my frantic search for a lucky clover
the pages pile with words wasted on hoping for better
and my few days waste away with so much time lost in trying to understand "forever"
so if you think that you know what made me then you haven't been listening to the words I didn't say
and if you've ask me for love then you've never felt what I already gave away
so put the times you've felt greatness on one side and see if they outweigh the hurt
or if the scales tip in favor of the ways you've failed and it still hurts
and trudge the horrible roads to the edges of the maps and see if you outrun the hurt
and see if any hand held or risk taken or affection given dispels the way you hurt
all the slivered glass pieces of my heart just cut me to blood as I try to pick them up
and all that my view of what could have been does, is lend tears as I watch those doors shut
and all another line will explain
is how it will never be the last line if I'm trying to write out the pains
I can never explain the hurt
In the darkest of night they rise
without humanity in their eyes
rotting flesh and beastly bones
rising like blood thirsty clones
When they rise, the end is near
the world becomes full of fear
by that time, it's way too late
torture and death is your fate
The time to suffer is coming fast
then none of us are going to last
so much blood sure to be shed
on this night of the living dead.
I would gladly wish upon my self portrait and ask that it age instead of I.
I would have no regrets, should I die tomorrow.
But, my greatest fear is living another twenty years.
have you ever felt trapped? caged? stuck? like everyone around you is moving and you're frozen and can't move? maybe it's the depression. maybe it's fear. i don't know what it is - all that i know is this feeling is completely paralyzing. sometimes it feels like i'll never leave this town. i'm so afraid of going nowhere yet i'm terrified of going out and living my life. i wish i could just crawl out of my skin. maybe that's why i tear it open almost every night. i wish i could escape myself. being stuck in this body is worse than being stuck in this town. it feels like my feet are glued to this very spot and no matter how much i try to undo it, it's continuing to stick. people always told me i'd go far in life but i'm not quite sure if i believe that. for i am immobilized by the paralyzing fear of being unsuccessful. maybe it's just the anxiety. maybe i'm insane.