I know this is the problem.. i am eating—kept on eating. I am overeating. My mind said stop but it feels like something is controlling me to keep feeding myself. Why do I always do this when i am longing?
I am procrastinating.. I can’t stop. I feel lazier more than usual. That’s what i feel. My mind said i need to fight it but i am too tired.
Do you think my mind is tricking me into thinking my mind wants to do it but the truth is, it really is the one controlling me not to fight it and I should be listening to my inner self and not the mind so that i will be able to control over my mind?
Jan 14, 2020
Jan 14, 2020 at 3:54 PM UTC
She’s trying when she’s stressed
She’s trying when she’s tired
She’s trying even it’s not her fault
She has all this questions that she can never get an answer
Until she starts loving herself a little more
And remind herself that there’s nothing wrong with her
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC
Trembling hands and stuttering words
Every step I take forward
Fear grips a hold of me
Blossoms of red cloud visions
A dragon of fiery
Ready to spout it's crimson flames
But you do not see the full picture
The whole of the painting
The words I hold inside me
Longing to be free
Making my head spin
I'm forever picking up broken pieces of lead
'Till my anger subsides
But for now all I can do is hope
That on day, one day
You will hear my voice
Strong and clear
See my words
Slabs of beautiful paint
On the canvas of literature
One day I hope
That you will see the real me.
'Till my anger subsides
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 10:33 AM UTC
Poems on a Mirror
~for Glenn Currier~
you don’t know me
I don’t know you;
poems on a mirror I ken
truly well
poems on the mirror saved, and then,
comme the seasoning of leave-falling,
poems dropping and drained...the post-it glue loosened by
the daily heat of watery tears,
making a space for
this one, for you...
there are poems and they arrive with fresh arrogance,
each an arrow demanding your all as a target regardless
of what the shooter really thinks or wants, other than
obedient acknowledgment and their self-loving flattery
but some render where no rendering should be allowed
those are the ones affixed - ones you chose to join the chosen,
slapped onto mirrors - so many that they almost
cover complete your image from presentation
almost only because these poems are yours, you,
they’re the truly accurate reflection even if not your words,
indeed especially because they’re not yours
but they start your day as a poem should
and in doing so,
become you
What a Hall of Fame, to be a poem on Glenn’s Hall of Mirrors
go pick the plums...
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
My death will be liberating.
And I do not say that in the sense
that I am going to find a cliff
and take a good jump off.
No.
I am just trying to find a
clever way to tell you
that I do not know what is going
to happen next.
You see,
there is a
fine line
between
dreaming and
mortality
and
I am finding out for myself
that being in love
does not always
involve
being awake.
And for my sake
I fall in love with daydreams,
nightmares,
hazy realities
and
the hung-over idea
of not being enough.
It is all out of my hands.
It is all out of time.
And the only thing I have left to do,
now,
is decide.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 10:26 AM UTC
Lately
I don’t feel close
to poetry.
It feels elusive.
Unfamiliar.
Once it spoke to me.
But now it’s mute.
It sits back
and doesn’t look
at me.
If I call out
it doesn’t hear.
Lately poetry is
like that demon
I used to want
to reappear.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.
When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.
If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.
But most people don’t see it.
Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.
The poet lives in two different worlds.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 10:24 AM UTC
I think i'm fine but i'm suppressing
To hide weakness and pain is to pretend
But in reality of my desperation,
I crave for attention
Attention to be heard with my silence
But sometimes silence is so loud
It makes me want to disappear
It's this feeling that I can't explain
For even though i'm not alone
I still can't find my inner peace
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
If you are a suicide survivor
Inbox me your name
And I’ll add it to my tattoos of others
You guys mean the world to me
And I have my own name on my arm
Because I too, am a suicide survivor.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC
I met a friend today
His name was Death
He smiled big with pure white teeth
And minty fresh breath
I asked him what he did for a living
Staring blankly at me, batting his eyelashes
He did the opposite of giving
What did that mean?
But the closer I got to Death
The better I understood his scheme
In his sharp black suit he won me over
I felt an irresistible draw
Like to a diamond in the rough, or a four leaf clover
He convinced me of the beauty in the night
That when the moon was hidden from view
There was nothing better than the lack of light
He led me from my lust for life
Sang to me in my sleep
Whispered sweet nothings and handed me the knife
I tried to pull away from my newly found friend
But his choke hold was so tight
On him I started to depend
The world could see me deteriorate into nothing
He held me harder and closer
With shortness of breath I stood huffing and puffing
Enclosed in the lackluster of our friendship I became numb
The emotions drifted with my vitality
I tried to retrieve them but could only attain 1/5th of my former sum
The more time you spend with a person
The more you become like them
I suppose I couldn't see the situation worsen
Collar around my neck he leashed me like a dog
I cared so deeply for him
My haze filled mind ignored the dense fog
I came to terms with my life long trap
Death circled like a satellite around my position
No matter where I went he found my place on the map
Eventually I succame to this fate
Despite his control
Death, I could not hate
I loved him too dearly to notice the signs
I couldn't think clearly
His presence was odious and it wasn't benign
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 8:54 PM UTC