brandy-c-zoch
I'm still adding my old stuff. You'll find a lot of suicidal stuff but it's not current. I starting using poetry to process my feelings when I had some heavy ones. Some of it has nothing to do with me but suicide is a universal issue and maybe it will help someone who feels similarly to know they aren't alone.
Covers off and on
The heat of her December
Southern Discomfort
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 7:26 PM UTC
The view is still.
The mist appeals on the sea it seals
But down below I writhe
My howls they burn with vowels unheard.
You see a speck of flame
My inferno seeps, ten thousand leagues deep
There you wait for me
Upon the beach with a coaxing breeze
We may never meet
I never showed, the ocean froze.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 7:23 PM UTC
Fell, he fell…
Swiftly and slowly.
Agonizingly slowly, painfully slowly.
Slowly in memory,
swiftly in time.
Swiftly. As in a meaningless opinion of a vastly overrated measurement of anything human.
We have not a word for a measurement that counts the value of a human experience.
How many decibels measured of a cry does not account to one an amount of sadness, joy, pain, anguish…
Percentages of love? Inappropriate.
If love is a journey, maybe miles?
And the direction… in.
He traveled so many, so carefully, so slowly, so deeply, and so meticulously, that one should not measure the time. An hour crawling in time, but crawling is slow and he fell very fast. Impossibly fast.
Light speed through the viscous substantial experience without destroying it. Instead, caressing and memorizing…
Do not weigh or measure or count.
Only know it is so.
Did he fall, crawl or fly? Yes.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 7:17 PM UTC
Je n'ai pas été créé par moi.
Je suis votre erreur.
Nous reconnaissons vos péchés quand tu me regardes dans les yeux.
Je suis ton mauvais tournant.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 7:14 PM UTC
I used to think you were shy,
but now I know you’re just terrified
of every
*******
little
thing.
I used to think that you were strong,
And maybe a bit wise inside
But you’re
such
a ******
child.
You are not an enigma.
You are not a hero.
You are not a vision of hope.
You
Are
Just
A mirage.
And I…
I am here, avoiding my fault.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:52 PM UTC
Your warm breath haunts my face.
Crazed with reminiscence, confronted with unending vacancy.
Claw at weary freckles.
My eyes create rivers over banks of soft warm memories.
Heart is restless, climbing up through the esophagus, making its way to you.
When I replay our time, at least one time, please don’t go.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:51 PM UTC
If you were here now, what could I even say to you?
Would it be like when I pray to you?
Will those expired limitations be renewed
or stay lost forever in your departure?
Would it make a difference when you went back to dust?
Would you suddenly know me now?
I don’t think I could.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:49 PM UTC
I love the wind’s howling.
The breath of God surrounds me.
It’s angry and loud.
It says
Destroy yourselves!
and we do.
Well we do a bit,
but we’re so obsessed with living.
What the hell for?
******* parasites.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
Paula kissed.
Paula kissed her.
Paula kissed her hard on the lips.
Paula kissed her hard on the lips, parted and pink.
Paula kissed her hard on the lips, parted and pink between her soft thighs.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
No. You are not numb.
You feel pain from how apathetic you’ve become.
You just don’t care that you hurt because there’s nothing to be done.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:41 PM UTC