It's a cold call in the middle of the night,
you're orbiting a big yellow sun with long brown hair,
and sharp, fierce, green eyes.
Now you're being thrown from her orbit,
hurdling into a vacuum,
it's like driving without headlights.
Don't hold your breath,
you're out of her pull,
out of her grasp,
don't look back.
Just collide with other planets,
crashing and burning up with no sound,
it's a silent film.
Shedding yourself,
pieces of you crumble and break away,
as your last bits blister through the atmosphere.
Stripped down,
smooth and bare, like a newborn,
you land into the arms of a planet you can call home.

u see the knife
you watch the glow
u see me smile
but can't hear me cry
u think i'm happy
but inside i'm breaking
u see the blood
then u realize
that i wasn't
lying
when i said
i'm depressed!
u wish u gave me the
support i needed
but now it's too late.
I'm dying inside...

I wish you were someone that you are not

Dinner by candlelight
because the power was cut,

we could have gone skating
but the ice was too thin
so
on a show of hands
we decided to stay in.

and now it's this morning
which it wasn't last night,

oh
and it's Wednesday too,
just got to get through this
but
must go to the bathroom
and have a wash
first.

volcanoes in la palma - the hands of the deities
... The Disturbance Storm Time Index sounds like a great song name.. but kinda scary for a world phenom.
what if pathetic fallacy was the quantum effect of emotions on a collective consciousness?

All things forgotten
Not one thing forgotten
Everything is dear
The dearly beloved
A Precious time,
the journey of love
Make no mistake
Mistakes will be made
The end
Will never define us
A true bond
How special it is
For better or worse
Take my love anyway
For it was always yours.

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)

I don't feel special,
I'm not unique.
I want to cry
but I can't even speak.
My hands reach out,
but they cannot hold
a single thing
but the bitter cold.
Everything's frozen,
I feel lost.
Even my tears
have turned to frost.
When I cut my waist
it bleeds black.
I'm so deeply gone
there's no way back.
This is goodbye

All I know
Is how
I feel

And sometimes I
Wish I
Knew nothing

i'm just going to say it
exactly like it is:





i think
i've fallen
for you.

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

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.

When I was little
I was scared
Scared of the monsters living under my bed
I used to hide, under my blanket
Under my blanket, I was safe
The monsters couldn’t reach me under my blanket

My parents used to say
The monsters would go away
I would grow up and that then they would leave

But I grew up
And the monsters didn’t leave
Turns out my monsters, grew with me
Now instead of under my bed
The monsters live inside my head

So I hide, under my blanket
Where I think I am safe
Wondering if after all this time
My blanket can still keep the monsters at bay

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

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.

There will be others
after you.

But
none are
as you are
to me.

My God neglects me
but I’m never envious
He placed my fate
in a way I’ve to call out to it,
and I call out to it every other day.
I cry alone to hide my tears
the rain I hide from
could’ve been my God’s blanket
to hide those tears with,
I talk to him still.
My God doesn’t listen to me
maybe I whispered,
speaking in language
he’s reprimanded me of using before;
Demanding.

And when we run out of things to talk about,
may our souls still be fond of each other
as we sit comfortably in silence.

kissed a thousand pretty sunsets,

just to float to the ground.

my heart's not the same,

when your voice isn't around.

now i can't recall it's sound,

you could appear like a magician,

on these apartment steps i adore,

cause your feet touched their floor.

but now im collapsing on mine,

like confetti to a blind.

maybe the moon will catch my eye.

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.

You know
I don’t know
and revel in the not knowing
because the pain of knowing
would mean growing
into someone
I believe is
not worth the knowing

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

Her eyes were fiery
While her lips peeled away
Her sun was setting
But her colors never fade
When she bites she is bitter
But when she smiles she is sweet
Like a nectarine emblem
She’s the fruit of life’s tree.

I wonder if I really am kind hearted.
Most people think it’s true,
But maybe I’m just afraid of being mean-
Maybe I’m afraid of being you.