well that's it
blazing flame of passion
snuffed, stifled, suffocated
all but forgotten in my
twisted love:
the lack thereof
emptiness, why so tangible?
so incompatible with reality
wired with lifelessness
dead in my arms as i
weep for it
still its dusty heart beats
with no indication of life
for mine beats too
withered and out of time
smothered with falsified feelings
saturated in what might be hatred
i haven't the mind to search
all i have are tattered pages and
a soul full of dust
the dust of a dwindling heart
infused with sorrow
,fading embers,
of a thousand dying stars
a thousand starving children
without the slightest comfort
in a world of tacks
everywhere we walk--
needles up. needles in
intravenous nihilism
twitching and trembling
until the veins burst
ruptured by loneliness
dire loneliness
is it better than the starving out there,
the starving in here?
an amalgam of stars
each imploding from its
tragic arrogance
why try, why give up?
it's easy to bash your skull against a
rockuntilyourbrainsstaineternity
but it's hard to let go too
to myself, why can't i?
is it easy, am i blind?
my struggle isn't null
my opinion is
null and void
void stains its own existence
a parody of itself
the Chaos of nothing
so I must reflect
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 4:49 PM UTC
It wasn't even a trail
But we climbed it
For miles and miles
We were tireless
Soldiers of the Wood
Pressing on
With heavy legs
and pounding hearts
We reached the summit
Space there was slim
and the rocks were near the soil
Made the trees thin
We rested, just for a second
Out of water
We didn't worry
I smiled, for I was alive
Every breath:
A gift from the Wild
THIS IS WHAT WE LIVE FOR!
The primordial woods
Deep forests
and even deeper thoughts
The only time we got along
My dad and I
We're hiking
Tearing peacefully across the ridge
It wasn't even a trail, but
THIS IS WHAT WE WERE BORN FOR!
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC
You can force it
If you try
Grasp your wit
And learn to fly
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 6:13 PM UTC
Broken rainbow of deceit
Impossible is my feat
Painful truth we do ignore
They feed us lies--we beg for more
Rambunctious stewards of the Garden of Pain
Burn it down, only the numbing cold remains
An earthquake--volcano--a silent eruption
We drown in a river, of our own corruption.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 8:48 AM UTC
Why do they worry?
Do I really need help?
They don't understand what I feel inside
To them, I'm a dream, so full of pride
Berating me: incessant
Voluminous worry: effervescent
Forgiving; not I, not me
Yet still I fly: I'm free
Lock me down, chain me to my bed
Heavy is the crown, that sits upon my head
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 8:33 AM UTC
The blood runs thickest when the blood runs cold
Some die young, and some die old
Cold is the fear; warm is the bold
Our deepest secrets are left untold
Sad thoughts in my mind are sung: manifold
Just to be stricken down with pain foretold
To the wind, cheerfully scattered is my mind
Searching to see there, nothing to find
The will of nature, beautiful yet unkind
You--to me, I soon shall bind
This ineffable mystery shall soon unwind
The seldom-seen seal of my sacrifice has been signed
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 8:23 AM UTC
My will to live fell asleep
A cat in the sunshine
The harsh light of truth:
I am dead.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 8:07 AM UTC
There he sat
On Hospital steps
Pure agony coursed through him
Hands to head: praying
Fingers interlocked
A weave of sorrow
Praying to his God
A God who would not answer
Why should He?
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
Now is the time. A breath, then wait... The screws tighten; they loosen me. Poking holes in the moldy sandbags of cognition--stale sorrow seeping out. Whirring gears slow and reverse, and the all-too-subtle tones of the universe split my head in half. Naught but dust remain. Mold and dust; remnants of a past Self. A Self-passed. What is Self? No more than that which has been true. The comets slide past me as I vault skyward, the roof is far too far away, and few know the pain. The pain of Truth; the pain of Freedom. I know. I have bitten myself there, too. And it hurts, like the rodents that we are: spiraling through the unfathomable crevices of our augmented minds... It is gone now, supposedly whisked away by the temporal taxation that infringes upon our very understanding of the word HOME, yet I still am tied to the skies. The blinding heavens. They beckon...
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 12:39 PM UTC