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idapida
There's a line of scares down your back and it's embarrassing. Shameful even for you. It's a modern crucifixion that keeps bleeding from your back to your legs, behind your knees and to your feet. I'm always standing in a puddle of blood and always leaving footprints wherever I go. It's simply a reminder: Don't make the same mistakes. And everyone can smell your shame. The history of me is already running down my legs. Shame Shame Shame It looks strange when you see it like that and I'm not used to it. It's right there. My shame is right there. From the top of my back running down to my legs and then finally, Finally, Out.
0
Dec 26, 2021
Dec 26, 2021 at 12:50 PM UTC
Untitled
It's been a while but once again I find myself in front of a mirror unable to remember how I got here It's me, I know that, but I keep waiting for her to tell me exactly why I stand here Because I don't want to do the work of finding out so I rely on someone else But the only one I have is myself Oh wait, that's not true I have my old teddy bear, and I have spring waiting for me around the corner. It's spring again, it's been a year since I stood exactly where I stand right now, I haven't moved an inch And still that reflection refuses to tell me what I need to hear. It's me, all of it My teddybear is me, it certainly isn't someone else maybe spring is me, too. You can turn away but she's still there, so you close your eyes but she's still there You can walk around the earth but she'll still be there I'll still be there And I think I'll need to rip my own neck off to get rid of me
0
Nov 16, 2021
Nov 16, 2021 at 3:27 PM UTC
Untitled
There has always been a lot of different ways to destroy yourself - there's the devotion to something that is not you, the cutting a piece off yourself and putting it in another person; that person becomes positive one and you are left with a gaping hole that misses itself, misses what is used to be. And that hole will never fully fill itself again, you see, no matter how much you stuff it with wool and dirt. There will always be this swallowing-everything-you-see-and-then-spitting-it-out hole. And then you think, what if I completely give myself to others? And then there's chunks of yourself on the floor and you're as much human as your kiddy teddy bear that's been lying in the mud your entire life. And then there's a dead man at your feet.  There's the protective layer - the fake, something that is not you, the stolen artwork that you placed on yourself because you're too ashamed, too scared, to fill the gallery with something that is truly yours. Something that is truly you. You're walking around with a camera in your hand that captures everything at a hands-reach. And then you pretend its your own until you fool yourself enough to finally grab your needles and thread and sew your own initials on the tag. You can stab yourself well enough that they won't recognize you anymore. Take every sharp thing you see, and then jam it straight into where it hurts. But it hurts everywhere, so you keep stabbing, until people come up to you and feel sorry for you. ‘what happened’ they ask. You never know what to answer. ‘What happens next?’ You're afraid now, you're not yourself. I’m sorry, maybe if I rearrange your mirror you will see yourself again, but my knuckles will have to heal first. There’s still blood on them.
0
Nov 4, 2021
Nov 4, 2021 at 4:27 PM UTC
Mirror stabbing
There has always been a lot of different ways to destroy yourself - there's the devotion to something that is not you, the cutting a piece off yourself and putting it in another person; that person becomes positive one and you are left with a gaping hole that misses itself, misses what is used to be. And that hole will never fully fill itself again, you see, no matter how much you stuff it with wool and dirt. There will always be this swallowing-everything-you-see-and-then-spitting-it-out hole. And then you think, what if I completely give myself to others? And then there's chunks of yourself on the floor and you're as much human as your kiddy teddy bear that's been lying in the mud your entire life. And then there's a dead man at your feet.  There's the protective layer - the fake, something that is not you, the stolen artwork that you placed on yourself because you're too ashamed, too scared, to fill the gallery with something that is truly yours. Something that is truly you. You're walking around with a camera in your hand that captures everything at a hands-reach. And then you pretend its your own until you fool yourself enough to finally grab your needles and thread and sew your own initials on the tag. You can stab yourself well enough that they won't recognize you anymore. Take every sharp thing you see, and then jam it straight into where it hurts. But it hurts everywhere, so you keep stabbing, until people come up to you and feel sorry for you. ‘what happened’ they ask. You never know what to answer. ‘What happens next?’ You're afraid now, you're not yourself. I’m sorry, maybe if I rearrange your mirror you will see yourself again, but my knuckles will have to heal first. There’s still blood on them.
Continue reading...
5
you walk on an abandoned railway its dark and you can't see anything but your know they're there people in front of you behind you, on every side of you holding you like you're something dear, someone important that they can't bear to lose it's a ghost town. you might as well be blind but you still balance on the tracks, someone is holding your hand at home your mom is making dinner while you eat a clementine and nothing makes you happier than this clementine so you consider planting a seed but it would die anyway because it's a ghost town. but there are no ghost, not really it's just history and it's begging you to keep yourself sane.
0
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 7:01 PM UTC
remember me please
Those nights when I inked my skin with words I wanted everyone to hear were the best ones For once I had something to say and I wanted everyone to hear it for once I am kicking over trash cans because the world is loud and I am nothing less than the world and stomping on concrete but avoiding the bugs and flowers because the world is not gentle but I try my best to be an angry kind organized mess Praising the lord in all the wrong ways because the world is up to me and heaven and hell is in my bedroom and a beautiful exorcism where I am stretching my limps for the first time made me realize that God is dead but I am alive
0
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 6:19 PM UTC
Mothsong
I've been preparing for this my entire life This particular unluckiness in love that seems unavoidable It's been in fairytales I've heard as a kid in the books I've read in songs on the radio in poems in everyone But no one ever told me that I would be the villain Never once did I relate to the bad guy But here I am and I'm the bad guy And every time the villain is explained it is said that she is good in her way That she never choose to become the villain But I had the choice I've been good my entire life but today I decided to be bad Tonight I killed the princess and took the prince for myself There's no poison, only me Me being forced down innocent throats until they bleed their secrets to me To me
0
Apr 9, 2021
Apr 9, 2021 at 1:44 PM UTC
Poison
There's a devil in the corner of my room who waits until I fall asleep to kiss my cheek and bid me goodnight. During the day he cannot reach me because he is, as stated previously, a demon, in all its magnificent glory. But he's not bad, not for me. I tell him all my secrets, I tell him of all who looked at me with eyes I can't interpret. I'm trying my best here, and I think this four legged creature is the closest I'll come to being loved.
0
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 1:30 PM UTC
I've been a little lonely lately
In one single night I realized the meaning in which I have been dwelling my entire life to find out the answer to but now I fear that I know too much about what needs to be kept unknown I've been mumbling the words of one thousand dead relatives every second of my life. You can't hear me, neither could I until this one particular night. I found myself on a bike riding south and wondering why I'm here, what made me get here and why am I on a bike and why am I riding south and why am I ten years old I feel like I should be one million I fell asleep and woke up one year older, then I repeated the process and now the candles can't fit on the cake but my blow gets compared to storms I can't keep up and on my death bed I will speak the words of Eve She said, "This life was made for you, are you ready to do it again?" and I replied, "We are the same, you and I"
0
Mar 27, 2021
Mar 27, 2021 at 1:56 PM UTC
Nightcall
I wish I was the sea That I hid endangered species that one million people would aspire to be the first to find I wish I was a roomful of gems That I had rows and rows of the most beautiful diamonds intoxicating, makes you stunned and worth one million a piece But reality is just not that complicated I don't know myself enough to teach you anything You keep trying to pry me open but there's only one thing I can tell you there's nothing in the pages They're empty Because you keep trying to read me But you have to let me write me first One day I will be the sea But it's gonna have to take a while And while you're here, watching me I can't become something beautiful I will become something worth searching for But I'll have to get there alone
0
Mar 17, 2021
Mar 17, 2021 at 10:53 AM UTC
On not feeling deep enough
I've spent an eternity staring at my own reflection Trying to find out exactly what made me get here and I've only ever found out one thing That my life is absolutely pointless but I also have a feeling that if I spend another eternity here I will realize something else entirely Because I've been having these dreams lately these vivid, disgusting dreams in which I know exactly the answer to the question I ask myself And in these dreams, I don't seem the way I imagine myself to be when I find out the answer When I find out the answer I imagine myself joyful because why else would I spend eternities trying to find out why I'm here if if would not grant me a lifetime of joy? I seem to be walking quietly around my childhood home looking at my hands as they rot in front of me And I'm walking heavily, you see like I'm being chained to the earth and I would have to spend yet another eternity just walking around my neighborhood I just keep walking until my feet turns into soil And I turn into soil I know now why I can't keep searching for something I will never find
0
Mar 15, 2021
Mar 15, 2021 at 4:35 PM UTC
Useless searching which leads to nowhere