I think Hell , is a cold place
I’m burning up in this old place
My beings spilt into
way more than just two
I don’t feel the need to explain a thing
i just feel the need to go back to sleep
And Dreaming is an acceptable psychotic state
And when I sleep , i believe ,that I escape
Into another world another place
So when you lay down one more time
What’s the difference, either way
I’m just going , to a colder place
(And I think Hell is at least a different place
When the world is burning up
my soul freezes to stay alive
So I know Hell’s a colder place
And I think I’d like to try it out,
A different place)
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 1:18 AM UTC
Never thought I was the type
Never thought I’d meet the time
The time that all I would think about
That all I’d want
Is to wake up and say
Good Morning Beautiful
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 12:59 PM UTC
This Antagonist
I’m straining and squirming in pain
In a tangling , unescapable, womb-like prison, with my favorite antagonisy
its humid, its nauseating, it’s cold
It’s so so loud
My holiday are the days it gets numb
I’m always caught on something
Is this just a part of “growing up”
Being pushed and pulled and shoved every which way
But throw aside and away and left alone only when I need someone to hold me
Pick a ******* side
Pick a ******* side
Internally,
It’s something with no diction
No commentary
Just pain sometimes and I can’t escape it
This only antagonist
People use the ocean to describe it
I think it’s the instinct of fear of the unknown
Well I’m sinking , my body is paralyzed
I look still, calm, serene , dead , if you will
I’m screaming , as beautifully disgusting as I can
And it just loves the sound, and it just dulls the sound
The gripping antagonist
But the ocean gives you so much
It has so much to offer for all it takes away
I’m anchored to this honesty that Yes,
I am afriad that this fight and useless struggle
This antagonist has swallowed me up
This is me now and if I loose it I might as well fade into non-existence
This antagonist
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 12:11 AM UTC
You beautiful creature
You lily in the spring
You bloom so beautifully
But you're gone so quick
I want to love you
But it's making us sick
You beautiful creature
Our lives are a trick
You chaotic creature
Your drawer full of secrets
You're so afraid that nobody will keep them
You're so alone You've got no home
You hurt my heart and stain my soul
Oh beautiful creature
Chaos in the air
Strings holding you up
Voices in your hair
We are making us sick
We are making us sick
We are so sick but we don't care
You're so quiet but your soul is so loud
You're breaking up and sinking to the ground
But if you're drowning then you're bringing both of us down
We're both going down
Oh beautiful creature
Chaos in the air
Strings holding you up
Voices in your hair
We are making us sick
We are making us sick
We are so sick but we don't care
I made a promise to you one night
That I'll always be there
And you need not fright
But I'm afraid that one day
My words will not be the same
And then youll know had nothing to gain
And when I'm gone I need you to know
That everything I ever did show
Was true and pure Even though insecure
I held you close and when I was unsure
And when I'm gone the last thing I want to say
Is don't ever be afraid
Oh beautiful creature
Chaos in the air
Strings holding you up
Voices in your hair
We are making us sick
We are making us sick
We are so sick but we don't care
Oh beautiful creature , you take my breath away
You are my reason to stay
Don't ever be afraid
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 7:15 PM UTC
Now it's three nineteen in the morning/
After all I still wish for stars/
I wish but I dare not look up to see what may be left/
For I know without a doubt, I will be staring into dark/
I sensed a loss/
As is a talent of mine to do/
I sensed a loss and in the night/
I felt the loneliness as it grew, and how it grows/
In the long awaited night/
By the gentle of the moon/
In all the quiet of the dead/
I still dream of you/
With every passing minute/
With every painful hour/
I lay here and it rips me apart/
The fact that I lost my chance , to say goodbye to you/
The slow realization, it crept up my spine/
Through my brain stem and into my mind/
I do not know when the darkness took me/
But like the many children I am taken/
And in the long awaited night/
By the gentle of the moon/
In all the silence of the dead/
I still dream of you/
I have so much more to say/
How many words I could conjure/
They couldn't fill the emptiness you left/
I know now, not the moon, nor the stars could guide me out/
Now it's three twenty in the morning/
I still lay here/
I still wish/
I still dream
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 12:31 AM UTC
I’m sitting here
I can feel your hate
and your anger
Lucky for me
In this moment I am not alone
I spot an ant on the wall
It walks in and out of the light
The blue and purple neon lights that come from somewhere
Somewhere in the city where someone
Is making something out of themselves
The ant runs back and forth
In imperfect circles
I focus on it because I have nothing else
I can say that I see myself in the inssignificant bug
Running, from who knows what
Hiding in the darkness , as if that will save it
So easily squashed at someone’s will
I want to shrink
To be as small as the ant
To be hidden
My oxymoron of a thought process is
I will shine; as long as no one can see me
I will speak;as long as no one believes me
I will Live; as long as no one can hear me breathe
And Now my Mind is going Blank
A desperate attempt to escape?
To save itself from further toruture?
Who knows?
But
If only I could shrink right now
Starve, and Shrink, and Shrivel Away
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 11:12 PM UTC
An Artist is Different to All
An Artist Creates
An Artist Puts Our Thoughts
Thoughts and Feelings that we were sure
Couldn’t be put into shape
Couldn’t be expressed , or understood
An Artist should bring those to life
And an artist has to get those thoughts from somewhere
an artist does not pull up and out
excrustiatingly difficult and complex emotions
Out Of Nowhere
because an artist
Not All
But an artist pulls those feelings
o ut of th ei r so ul
an artist
may stay s ick i n th e he a d
to keep that art coming
an artist
t ak es them s e l v e s apa r t
and throws themselves onto paper
canvas, a staff, a chord ,
and throws themselves up
as words
To an Artist, Blood may very well be Ink.
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 11:03 PM UTC
She saves me/
Oh how she saves me/
She makes me/
She brings my eyes to rest/
Her memory fills my emptiness up, just enough, to turn away all the demons/
She breaks me down/
Oh how I do too/
We both have our problems/
And those problems hate the thought of “us”/
Everytime, no matter what said, we never split, we know our codependence/
I am not a love poet/
I think myself too down for pure love/
You know, Love, that we are pushed and pulled by those around/
That they doom us for our very love/
And we are saved by eachother/
We will be the death of eachother/
They will rip us into pieces the second they find proof/
But can we let that hate, be a constant reminder of how strong you hold on to me /
And how strong I’ll hold on to you?/
She really does make me/
She will never not be warming my mind/
She is going to be the death of me/
And I love her for that
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 11:43 AM UTC