In the quiet murmur of hushed tones
And blasphemous whispers
I burn a torch over a simple question
For many suns and moons, I have wailed to the stars
My bloodied will, brandishing my broken body
The rhythm of my feet kissing the burning sand
For inside my chest, a song beats
Bereft of love, and the banality of wrath - no,
But of obedience, and blind faith,
The crucifixion made living
Carved into my back, a gruesome tapestry.
The slave driver orders me forward.
“Elohim?” I shout to the heavens, on my knees.
Jun 20, 2022
Jun 20, 2022 at 1:25 AM UTC
I have stared into the abyss
And it has stared back at me
Know that God was not there.
Instead, I hath walked the land of the suicides,
Asphyxiated in the blood which flowed from my open chest,
Languished in the agony of my consciousness,
And cried mercy to the divine, only to find the void -
Howling in a gnawing silence back at me
It was not “nothingness” which I hath found in the pit
For the abyss I found
Was an abundance of mirrors
May 11, 2022
May 11, 2022 at 6:07 PM UTC
1:45 - Go to the party tomorrow
1:45 - No
1:46 - Go to the party tomorrow!!
1:46 - I can’t. We have a no contact rule.
1:50 -̶I̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶i̶t̶’̶s̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶’̶s̶ ̶p̶r̶o̶b̶a̶b̶l̶y̶ ̶b̶a̶d̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶m̶e̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶s̶m̶i̶l̶e̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶h̶a̶n̶d̶s̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶I̶ ̶h̶u̶g̶g̶e̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶,̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶s̶k̶i̶n̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶b̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶i̶d̶o̶l̶i̶z̶e̶d̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶f̶e̶l̶t̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶a̶r̶m̶s̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶f̶e̶l̶t̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶l̶e̶p̶t̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶-̶ ̶b̶e̶s̶i̶d̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶-̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶ ̶n̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶a̶n̶ ̶e̶n̶t̶i̶r̶e̶ ̶y̶e̶a̶r̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶I̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶p̶e̶r̶f̶e̶c̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶f̶e̶l̶t̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶n̶a̶k̶e̶d̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶a̶ ̶t̶h̶u̶r̶s̶d̶a̶y̶ ̶a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶n̶o̶o̶n̶,̶ ̶a̶l̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶r̶o̶o̶m̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶p̶a̶r̶e̶n̶t̶s̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶h̶o̶m̶e̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶d̶r̶i̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶a̶t̶ ̶n̶i̶g̶h̶t̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶d̶r̶i̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶h̶o̶m̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶p̶l̶a̶c̶e̶ ̶-̶ ̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶p̶l̶a̶c̶e̶.̶ ̶A̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶e̶s̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶i̶t̶’̶l̶l̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶ ̶i̶f̶ ̶I̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶t̶o̶m̶o̶r̶r̶o̶w̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶i̶t̶’̶l̶l̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶o̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶l̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶,̶ ̶a̶ ̶l̶o̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶s̶a̶y̶ **** ̶i̶t̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶.̶ ̶B̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶y̶e̶s̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶m̶a̶n̶y̶ ̶c̶u̶t̶e̶ ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶s̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶m̶a̶n̶y̶ ̶o̶p̶p̶o̶r̶t̶u̶n̶i̶t̶i̶e̶s̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶.̶ ̶F̶r̶o̶m̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶h̶a̶p̶p̶y̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶f̶e̶e̶l̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶’̶s̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶d̶ ̶b̶y̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶o̶n̶l̶y̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶h̶a̶t̶e̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶I̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶r̶e̶v̶i̶s̶i̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶.̶ ̶P̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶ ̶g̶e̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶.̶ ̶P̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶a̶p̶i̶s̶t̶.̶ ̶P̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶ ̶g̶e̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶l̶p̶,̶ ̶b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶l̶a̶s̶t̶ ̶d̶a̶y̶ ̶I̶ ̶s̶a̶w̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶,̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶b̶e̶a̶u̶t̶i̶f̶u̶l̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶I̶ ̶s̶a̶w̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶f̶i̶r̶s̶t̶ ̶d̶a̶y̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶t̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶k̶i̶n̶d̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶u̶n̶d̶e̶r̶s̶t̶a̶n̶d̶i̶n̶g̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶l̶i̶s̶t̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶m̶e̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶m̶a̶d̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶t̶o̶o̶k̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶m̶y̶ **** ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶s̶m̶i̶l̶e̶d̶ ̶b̶a̶c̶k̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶.̶ ̶A̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶h̶u̶g̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶k̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶t̶e̶l̶l̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶e̶,̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶k̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶g̶i̶v̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ ̶f̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶m̶o̶n̶t̶h̶s̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶g̶o̶d̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶I̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶ ̶u̶s̶ ̶b̶o̶t̶h̶ ̶m̶o̶r̶e̶.̶ ̶S̶o̶ ̶p̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶,̶ ̶g̶e̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶t̶o̶m̶o̶r̶r̶o̶w̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶w̶h̶o̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶m̶o̶r̶r̶o̶w̶ ̶-̶ ̶b̶e̶h̶i̶n̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶d̶i̶a̶g̶n̶o̶s̶i̶s̶.̶ ̶B̶e̶h̶i̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶p̶a̶i̶n̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶
1:50 - Okay.
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 4:49 AM UTC
...But at night
My head is a radio tower
The thoughts and information bouncing off the walls of my mind
Front to back
Voices from different frequencies
Endlessly bombarding me.
Never stopping
Never ending.
.
.
.
.
And for the first time in my life
.
.
.
I find myself begging for a place
.
.
.
Where I don't get cell service.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC
"You deserve it."
"Sometimes I just don't feel like I do."
"Sometimes we all feel like we don't."
"Yeah..."
"That's why we call them blessings."
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
I’m not going to lose anymore.
I’m not going to take it in the gut without throwing a punch back.
I’m not going to go down without attempting to get up.
I refuse to lose you without burning myself trying to win you back.
I refuse to look for refuge or safety like I used to because I found something I want to fight for.
I refuse to let you go without staring down the chamber of a .44, looking you in the eye before you pull the trigger.
So if you pull the trigger, at least let me know why.
If you’re going to **** me, **** me on my feet.
I don’t want you to be my enemy.
I don’t want you to be the anchor that pulls me down to the bottom again.
I don’t want you to be a missed chance, or a “could have been”
I don’t want you to become someone I resent, or a waste of time.
I know you’re looking at this.
I know you’re watching and reading these words.
You know what I want.
It’s been a few weeks, but the time we spent is valuable to me.
And dare I say it was valuable to you too.
I don’t waste my words.
I don’t say things if I don’t mean it.
I don’t lead people on.
I don’t tell you I care for you if I’m just going to spit behind your back.
I don’t say “I love you” if I didn’t put so much thought into what I was saying.
You’re right. We are different.
But I was never looking for the same. I have enough of the same.
I want you because you teach me.
You unlocked something I never thought I knew about myself.
You taught me how to be vulnerable.
You’re someone I didn’t know I could grow to love.
And you have so much more to teach me that you don’t even know.
I know your time is precious,
But want you to be mine.
I never promised you forever -
But I promised you one day at a time.
And If you want it, you still have it.
Yeah?
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 4:29 AM UTC
Nothing makes me feel as powerless
As hearing you cry at the other end of the phone.
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 3:11 AM UTC
The truth is that I miss you
And It’s hard to fight the distance
The truth is I ain’t ready-
to do this but I can’t miss it
But the truth is nobody is ready
And the pain is that we need to grow
And I hate how I lived so cynical
Because vulnerable is hard over the phone
And I hate using the word
demon
I think It’s a bitter cliche
But what other word can sum up
The i m a g e r y inside of the pain.
So maybe I am protective
But I swear that I can try
To open up a little more
If you could just give me some
time.
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 12:18 AM UTC
I miss the days...
When a secret was about where I hid my pencils
When my biggest fear was being grounded for a note home
When violence was only played on TV
When guns were only in my video games
When everyone I met was my friend
When the world didn't feel it was out to get me
When having a good day didn't feel like I owe the universe a bad one
When assuming the worst wasn't a self defence mechanism
When having a bad day meant that I still had tomorrow
When "I like you" was meant for one person
When love meant "no strings attached"
When I wasn't so scared all the god **** time.
I miss the innocence.
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 12:02 PM UTC
"I'm afraid to lose you"
But isn't that what love is?
Isn't love standing on the edge of a canyon, overlooking the beauty that is below?
Running the length of a battlefield, amidst the bullets whirling, and the cannon fire, knowing you could at any moment lose everything?
Isn't love ultimately driving the edge of loss to the edge?
Playing with fire? Juggling knives? Self operated open heart surgery?
Isn't that what makes love so special?
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 4:45 AM UTC