A cigarette to calm the mind,
a bowl to ease the fight between spirit and society,
a lover’s touch to hold my pieces together.
For these,
I am an addict.
I am cravings and desires.
I want,
I need,
I yearn.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
There are some things man cannot find the words to describe.
When he tries to make sense of this feeling of perpetual solidarity he realizes he cannot convey it properly. He then becomes more lonely, disconnected from the souls of others.
Holding tight to the notion that one day this will suddenly change and he will have found purpose in life.
Maybe time will stop where love begins.
Maybe finding another soul akin to his will halt impending death and he will begin to live his life.
Because, if he feels this aloneness and finds no meaning in it, he thinks he cannot truly be living.
The act of living implies loneliness. When he is alone without distractions he must feel the reality of his emotions, and without them could we call his life a life at all?
The one of an already dead man, there must be a reason he continues on.
Maybe time will stop where love begins.
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
i know i drunkenly kissed you on the porch
at 3 in the morning, i let you put your hands on me like
i knew what i was getting myself into.
what i meant to do was ask you about your family
and what the word love means to you, instead of
connecting with people i choose to ****** them
because they can’t hurt me when i refuse to feel
anything but a nameless body pressed to mine.
these things do not make me happy.
alone now, 3 in the morning, craving my whiskey so i can forget that there’s no one to hug me,
the most comfort i’ve felt in too long was at the bottom of the bottle,
and that’s left me with nothing but a migraine.
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 11:54 AM UTC
One arm wrapped delicately around her waist,
you can feel her wasting away even though
she says she ate not two hours ago,
she only consumed one more part of herself,
so recklessly trying to vanish
from this world she does not understand.
Drink after endless drink calms the monster
scratching at her bones looking for an escape
because he is eating her alive,
tearing every docile limb from its foundation
trying to make her feel something
hoping hope and passion can break
the haze of whiskey on an empty stomach.
-
When somebody is dedicated to a lifelong
suicide you cannot save them, only love them
through each poor decision ; one arm around her waist
trying so hard to protect her from this world,
the evil upon us.
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
One arm wrapped delicately around her waist,
you can feel her wasting away even though
she says she ate not two hours ago,
she only consumed one more part of herself,
so recklessly trying to vanish
from this world she does not understand.
Drink after endless drink calms the monster
scratching at her bones looking for an escape
because he is eating her alive,
tearing every docile limb from its foundation
trying to make her feel something
hoping hope and passion can break
the haze of whiskey on an empty stomach.
When somebody is dedicated to a lifelong
suicide you cannot save them, only love them
through each poor decision ; one arm around her waist
trying so hard to protect her from this world,
the evil upon us.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
Blizzards hidden under sunshine images,
tales of love, a cloud of smoke
in the afternoon sun, lovers hiding from something
they can’t see. Beautiful life, whiskey in the parlor
and cigarettes in the living room
waiting for a heat wave, addiction growing,
trying to battle the frost
because I’ve decided I don’t
want to die here, I’m sure you feel the same-
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
Mountains’ majesty
a cave of amethyst brews
confidence in its own perfection
near the peak peeking into the
crayon colored clouds.
Desire for a moment free from earth
where right above our heads
the world is colorfully candid
through a foggy wine-stained film.
Glossy sun through glossy eyes
entices the mind enough
to lift legs one thousand and two
steps up the mountain
coiling through indigo trees
on turquoise trails until
we pass the purple threshold
where it’s best to pass the time.
Pomegranate lips smile
stretching pomegranate skin
yours tastes like otter pops and ***
mine I imagine is similar
with a hint of bad decisions.
This reality is unrealistically appetizing
contorting trails contort minds
peaking at the sunset so close
I swear we’re almost there.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
She eats her spaghetti
with a fork like a shovel,
ignoring the etiquette lessons
from her mother so many years ago.
You can tell her there’s
tomato sauce staining
her mouth like lipstick
smeared from the night before,
but she’ll just laugh
and wipe it away with her sleeve
when she’s finished.
You would think
such a messy eater would
leave bits of her meal
all over the table
but when she’s done,
there’s no trace of
her haphazard manners
and she disappears
again.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 2:20 PM UTC
Saying your name will always hurt.
I believed you when
you said that you would love me
forever.
I nodded benignly through my tears
when you said you never
wanted to hurt me like this again,
and that's why
you did it then.
I wanted to kiss you
when you reached
for my hand and told me
this was only because you wanted
to be there for me.
I tried to forgive you,
so we could be friends
like you wanted
because until then
I was amazed by the way
you knew and understood me,
you were my safety blanket when
I hadn't felt safe before
and because of this I was
blind to the ropes you tied to me
like I was a broken marionette.
Now I can't believe
you saw my scars and didn't kiss them,
let alone allow me to tell you their story.
I can't believe you ****** my friend
two weeks after
you took knives to the places in my heart
you knew would hurt me most.
But mostly,
I can't believe you expected me
to crawl back into your arms after all this.
I want to throw at you
all the notebooks I've wasted
writing about you.
I want to scream at you for
treating my heart like either
(I can't decide which is more true)
a playtoy or something that
you could save,
neither of which were right.
I realize you're worth none of this.
You're not the girl I fell in love with,
you're not the girl I trusted with all of me,
and I don't miss you
I miss that girl.
I tried to hard to forgive you,
but you don't deserve that.
All I can do is forget.
(Sincerely) **** you.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
Seven ruler-straight
horizontal lines
Two solidly thicker
vertical lines connect
those to the
palm of my hand
And one in the shape
of a hot, bent, metal stick
almost hiding in my
arm's crease.
They look so soft now
but I remember when
each one of them was
ragged and ******
and I was crying out
for someone to help me.
I never left without my sweatshirt,
I tried to blame it on the cat
because I couldn't explain to anybody
my reasons for harming myself,
you can't just
describe your demons
that easily.
These scars are a map,
a storybook on my body
of the time I needed so badly
for somebody to hold me.
When nobody came with a rag
to soak up the blood I was
trying to get out of me
I realized that
I was either going to have to
learn to love myself
or let myself die right there.
I am happy to have these scars
for they mean that I chose the former,
escaped that dismal ending
I had chosen for myself.
They prove to me
that if I can come from the edge of death
to the person I am today
there's no reason
that I can't do anything else.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 9:06 PM UTC