I can't keeping living
like there's a nightmare behind
every last corner

3:57 PM
28/10/20

Smoking in the gloomiest
rain crying on window pane
dull light and stagnation
hazing within this midnight pain

waiting for the next calm tension
gut wrenched while at walls peering
part fear and part apprehension
living in black and white,
my mind harshed and reeling

Life for the uninspirable,
the undesirable, poet and her foes
for deep within their tear paste hearts
a firey thing doth grows

anguished love, my lottery
my hatred feeds my Muse
und wasser cannot quench the thirst
from chasing after you

if i traced the outline of your tattoo
underneath my fingertips
could that be my excuse?
to feel your skin
and make your senses
tremor at my touch.
would that be too much?
would you call that love?

This red thread is tattered and torn.
It is faded and stained for all the time worn.
A simple reminder of our love sworn.

I should take it off but I find I am unable.
Clinging to a timeless fable.

Not of ancient lore,
or some cross to bear.
But here. But now.
No Prince Charming
at the castle door.
Only her, Miss Damsel herself.
In some paper city,
called Zilch,
where things fall apart fast.
She's trapped in no tower,
but a loft instead.
With tin-foil crown,
she climbs across
the kitchen table
to slay the dragon,
in the flames
of his own black-hearted
bedevilment.
A dagger to the heart
of the matter,
and all is quiet again.
Then with a satisfied yawn,
she retires for her afternoon nap.

Now there were two of them
Separated between thousands
of read texts and timely
chats touched by sound
but not skin  
Awake in the others sleeping
Sleeping in the others awake  
Restless as they wait
Restless as they wait

When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.

Making love with the lights off,
  voices surround me once more. . .
      . . . fat. . .
           . . . round. . .
               . . . small. . .
I am yours,
  but hide me from me
     keep the lights off
       let me feel beautiful
         before these voices tear me down once more. . .

-ʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴏꜰꜰ

His eyes were the color of grief,
and I let myself drown in their innocence.
I’ve allowed myself to melt in his sea of emotion,
and now I’m the color of grief,
no longer innocent.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

My fangs grew overnight
And when I tried to hide my smile
It poked my lower lip
From it, a bit of blood dripped,
It tasted sweet.

I walked over arched bridges at night
The ones, that mold around the moon light,
My fangs were longing for a match
To graze your lips, your mouth to touch.
On you, to latch.

The knock woke me from my deep sleep,
I heard some kids say trick or treat,
I realized it's Halloween!
I gathered candy from under my couch
I didn't need my plastic fangs
I had my own and the costume matched.

1...
What a wonderful world it is,
coz when it's beautiful,
it has your legs on my shoulders.

#2...(Sacred acts):
The thickness of his blood all up in her waters.

#3...(Description of a 69):
As he burnt her midnight oils,
and she on the other hand,
gagging over his spilt milk.

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

i'm not the type of person to give up on someone. yes, sometimes i get really mad and upset so i need a minute to cool off but i'll never abandon you. i don't leave people. and i think that's why it always hurts so bad when people leave me.

She was stuck
in endless cycles
it seemed to her
more harm than good
to be a girl
in this world

I never truly believed in you
Maybe i did once
But now i know you
As the thing people hold on to
When there's nothing left

So here I am
With nothing left

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

some                   I
     say                     call
           it's                   It        
                poetry.          oxygen.


I write, therefore I am.