Maybe we could have some time off,
Away from the rest of the world.
Just you and me and perhaps
A couple of our vices.
Maybe we could melt into nothingness
For the time being.
Or, perhaps, we could
just sleep in each other's arms
and wake up in the far future.
Only you exist to me now...
But I see that you are preoccupied
With the world you hate...
So I lie here in bed,
for you
I wait.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
there's something deep within me
hidden underneath my daily smile
perhaps a desperate plea
maybe a silent cry
asking for what I need
yearning for absolution
pushing away my pride (if I had any)
begging for salvation
tired of the role I continue to play
bound and broken within myself
afraid of what people might say
if I turn to them for help
how much longer must I fool myself?
you know I'd stop if I could.
crying myself to sleep every night
like every f-cked up teenager would
is it too late for me?
too late for me to be saved
from the thoughts and voices
inside my head
that drive me insane.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 11:49 AM UTC
Reflection, contemplation
Caught in the midst
Of self-degradation.
Alone, miserable,
Painfully sober:
Searching for something lost.
Here we are again
Incessant bludgeoning
of the mind and soul
Here it is again
this crushing, paralyzing pain
from which there is no escape
Take in a long deep breath
to clear your heavily-laden mind
But it doesn't seem to work.
It doesn't.
Nevermind.
You continue to think,
to rationalize,
to rot, to decay,
To become something less
of what you were,
Until you taste, once again,
that bittersweet liquid fire.
It burns the throat
and drowns the cacophony of voices
in this temporary relief
You seek refuge.
You hang on to this mirage
this oasis where nothing seems to exist
nothing but the numbness
nothing but the muffled sound
of your cries for sanity.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 10:47 AM UTC
I welcome it as it fills me to the brim
But it somehow manages to escape
Again, I slowly let it in
But it quickly dissipates.
The line is long and our time is short
It moves clockwise as it makes its return
Loud thuds echo as fists hit chests
After others finish their turn
You are not selfish,
Neither are you unkind
The fault is not yours
If others get left behind.
Hands count down to zero
One by one they go
'Til you're left on your own
As they all lose control.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
It began like any other day,
But I remember because of your smile.
I promised to take you to your favorite place.
My happy little girl,
My cherry-cheeked child.
The rain spattered on your face that morning
While we walked down the cracked, slippery streets.
Singing, whistling by my side
You skipped and hopped with your tiny feet.
I held your hand as we crossed the street
Down the white-striped concrete ground.
The light was green on the other side;
I didn't bother to look around.
I held your hand nice and tight,
I felt your fingers curl inside mine.
We walked on and on to the other side
But my! How the hand is quicker than the eye!
Never saw it coming, nor heard it through the rain.
I swear I never saw it coming, nor heard it as it came.
The next thing I knew,
I could no longer feel your hand in mine.
I turned to look where you've gone
But your familiar figure I could not find.
I held your hand as we crossed the street.
Little did I know that it would be the last time
I'd ever see your sweet, pretty face.
My happy little girl,
My cherry-cheeked child.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC
remind me again why we stopped writing.
I remember times when it was all we did.
and i know, I'm talking to myself again.
so many things...
we used to never run out of words to describe them.
now, we just watch. look. listen. then forget.
what happened to the days when we observed our world
and allowed it all to sink in?
now we just stare into the middle distance...
and see nothing.
remind me again why we stopped reading.
I remember times when it was all we did.
and I know, I'm still talking to myself.
so many things...
we used to never close books until we've finished them.
now we just watch. look. listen.
but nothing registers in our heads.
what happened to the days when we liked challenging
our perspective by vicariously living through literature.
now we are just passive...
lacking initiative.
if this is what it means to grow up...
...then I will forever regret that I did.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
You, my dear, are hungry;
Impossible to sate.
and I am a martyr;
That makes me your buffet.
that grumble in your stomach
is like music to my ears
for it only means one thing:
you are coming; you are near.
Here, you'll find,
there is no line:
if, and only if,
you decide to be mine.
I offer you my heart,
so devour me, my sweet.
It should be only MY flesh
into which you sink your teeth.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
hard-wood rocking-horse
between thighs of porcelain white.
sweat drips, rhythmic oscillation
of bones that ferrociously grind.
salty, soft, sweet-wine lips;
heavy, humid, breath of steam.
closed-eyes search for surrender,
and signs of admitted defeat.
hymns of pleasure-ridden-falsettos echo;
eruptive moans reverberate in diaphragms;
trapped in throats, restricted groans
fight their way out of closed mouths.
tearing through flesh
arrows find their targets:
bombarded zones left unguarded
are continually pillaged without regret.
hard-wood rocking-horse
still ****** between thighs
of ruined statues of goddesses
made of porcelain, so white.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
Blood drains from my face
and my throat gets dry;
I'm finding myself
A little stupefied.
I gravitate towards you:
You see, I'm mesmerized.
As days go by,
My feelings intensify.
Call me crazy,
and say I'm a fool,
But cliches seem novel
When they're happening to you.
There's no use trying to hide
How you're making me feel inside
'Cause you just had to do it,
You just had to start
Your all-consuming fire
In my flammable heart.
Every now and then
I catch myself smile
At the thought of you and I
Giving it a try.
Soon enough,
Daydreams will ensue.
Once again, I'm trapped
In my thoughts of you.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 4:03 PM UTC
Her eyes are deep pools of cool blue.
Open but empty, staring blankly
Into infinite space.
Her smile - formed by wax-like lips -
Is stiff, emotionless, almost as if concealed.
but her mouth trembles as it traces
the letters of an irrelevant name.
Her scent moves through the crowd
and permeates your consciousness.
It shoves and pushes aside thoughts,
Making its way into your awareness.
A sound slithers into your ear:
A whisper transcending the noise around.
Despite the ruckus of chaotic discourse,
Her endearing voice is the only sound.
The night slowly grows old
Whilst more stories are told.
Histories fail to unfold
as endless lies are bought and sold.
(presumptions of non-existent subtleties
has claimed its fair share of casualties)
More is said, but less is revealed
Meandering timelines of hurt
Kept hidden beneath the scars
of wounds that have seemingly healed.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC