I’m going to write you a letter.
Not now, most likely not tomorrow.
Maybe before I die, just after I get better.
See I found the problem.
The problem with me is my problem with you.
I have discovered I am the modern parasite.
I am the soul sucker.
I cling to your skin and your heart. All those little chunks--- I bite.
I know.
I was intoxicating.
I was lovely.
I was fragile.
I was broken.
You wanted to fix me.
But instead,
I broke
You.
I tore you apart and clawed out your heart.
Your eyes went glassy and your feelings fell apart.
I destroyed you.
You, You, You, You, You, You and You.
But who’s counting?
I take responsibility but I do not take blame.
I showed mercy, see.
I gave you a way out. I opened doors and offered temptation.
I warned you. I wanted you gone. I wanted you safe.
I screamed until my lungs became asphyxiated but unlike you;
I’m breathing fine.
Now we’re strangers.
Now we’re enemies.
I miss you.
But not the way you want me to.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 3:37 PM UTC
Hate.
What a word.
What a phase.
What a conjunction of emotions that I can’t place.
I wish I could whisper all of them, away.
The traitors and the lies
with mistakes and
goodbyes.
tell them, demand them
to run away from home.
but i,
am only
running
on a personality
that
depends
on
hate.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
The world is colder when you open up its’ jaws.
The sign says no, but your heart says go.
You’ll blame the stars or the snakes beneath your feet,
don't forget to hide the receipt.
You inject blame to the dead.
Where are your morales, where is your sense?
Where is the blood when you need to mend?
This is your fault and this is your sword.
Please, take your daily dose.
Ignore our existence, so you can beg for more.
Beg for the claws inside your heart.
And once they’re out, once they melt,
I promise, I promise
It’ll cool you like a quilt.
I promise, No!
I guarantee-
You’ll miss the bruises and the cuts.
You’ll miss the screaming and the torture.
No more clay in the ruts, no more tape to the edges.
Just blood and heart attacks.
Oh, You’ll miss it.
And when you sleep at night you’ll ask the ceiling “why?”
“Why is it so cold?”
Because you opened up it’s god ****** jaws,
slit your wrists and fed the beast.
A meal on a plate, dessert in it’s hands.
Torture that you call it, a blessing that we give.
Seasons kiss your skin, but pain will destroy it,
no mending for your sin.
No light will kiss you, no laughter or kin.
The Ice will take you in!
The Ice will take you in!
The ice will love you. The ice will bathe you in it’s grin.
You will miss us dear, oh how I promise.
Do take a walk in the forest. Let the wind sink in.
I will whisper I will scream.
You will shiver to my note.
The cold bites honey, wear your coat.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 1:41 AM UTC
“The bells will ring my fingers will burn.
The sun will grin and my heart will churn.
I know not of darkness, no sin nor evil.
Yet it comes, shaped as bullets of air and sounds of the tongue.
If I were to scream, would you hear it? Or shove me back into the tear-filled eyes of earth?
I suppose, my fingers would chill and my heart would slow but my ribs would crack and my voice would slip.
My name would fall and my soul would combust.
Earth will cry for me.
I am sure of it. They tell me secrets in my sleep.
They; because earth is not one. Not an him or she or an it.
A they. Not an I or me.
As I do not belong in the suns domain or the disease of today.
Yet I am here.
So the earth will wash their oceans into my veins as I sleep without a name.”
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
"I remembered a dream, where I woke up to him playing his guitar and I didn't say anything. I just sat and watched him play. The more he moved his fingers, the more I wanted to play with him. But my fingers didn't move as fast as his. They were slow and bulky, grazing two strings instead of one. So Instead, I listened. I listened to the music of a memory I never witnessed and one I never would, sing me to sleep.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
I will not feed your curiosity. I will rot in what welcomes me,
It is a pain only wielded for my heart alone, none other should wield it.
It is the hammer of my existence, and if this hammer crumbles my veins, I will welcome it.
Oh, How I will welcome it.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
"Fingers twist into charcoal like the fires of last night.
You no longer dance with the rest of us, you're only ashes in mid-flight.
She screams, I am insane.
I whisper, You are too blame."
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 12:06 AM UTC
Your claws are short, as they are dull,and still, you bare teeth of the dire.
You're tongue is weak and your will is vacant.
Of course, you are one to believe that we are stronger, that we can conquer.
Such silly lies you spew, such great stories that only make you pretty.
As stars whisper, you will laugh. Their light trembles as your hands steady.
You smile; oh what a smile.
I reached out to it at the mid night hour. You told me to die, die, die.
But your claws are short, as they are dull; yet you dare bare the teeth of the dire.
Your tongue is weak, it would be a shame if something would to happen to it.
Your voice could no longer be heard, and such fake teeth would no longer be cared.
I shall shove your tongue and your lies back down your throat.
You will Asphyxiate, and you will scream.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
Swallow your memories,
laugh at your truth, forget until tomorrow.
Regain what you lost, and lose it all again.
Another laugh, another sway, another bottle in my way.
It's empty, it's empty!
I don't want to remember!
Fetch me another bottle,
I'd like to sleep 'till december.
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
Memories are a potent, and cruel existence.
You want to smile, you'd like to think of the flutter in your chest, the feeling of joy covering your eyes.
But memories are full of melancholy and odium.
They remind you of the years you've breathed, they remind you of the things you've seen
They cling to your eyelids like stained blood.
We all have the memories, such sanguine feelings they carry.
But is such, worth the daggers prickling at your eyes?
Are they worth, the engraving pain that trickles down your spine?
I am a reminder. I am your pain. I am your joy.
Blink.
Maybe you'll see me.
-Dakota R. McIvor
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 4:19 PM UTC