A beautiful thing about learning to accept oneself is that you can choose to not remind yourself of your failures.
There is something about humanity that brings us all together.
In dark corners of rooms,
wintry muted nights,
railings overlooking city streets,
plush chairs on mountain tops.
I wish I could hold the hands
of all that hate.
Hate their nose, life, parents, workload, ex, intentions.
I want to tell everyone that
they are so important.
Tomorrow cannot be better without today;
you are here and I want you.
A silent agreement,
like skies permitting wings to fly.
That's like life.
I've learned that I cannot hold onto torture.
That to become whole,
wrong-doings must be set aside,
and a shaky faith in purpose must be nurtured.
Similar to a pinprick of blue light instilling comfort,
there is always someone to look to.
Humanity makes us mourn lives we won't ever get to bask in,
closed eyes bringing us to the souls of the ones that did.
A steady red thrumming, quiet and loyal,
stops.
Maybe we were not made to question such a beauty.
And I am foolish for wanting to forever chase demons
in replace of my own.
Staying awake just to feel,
trying to focus on each cell and breath in vain.
Blackness in a mind is dangerous, and you can only wish yourself whole for so long.
Promises sealed in ragged envelopes will suffer until the day I sleep,
but I will continue to write them to myself until one day I forget.
Altruism is the best form of selfishness,
and helps to remember that no matter the troubles,
wrongs,
words,
fear,
there is always a piece of someone's soul that dies when you hurt.
I love you, truly and honestly.
You're beautiful and I'm shaken and changed by
the carbon dioxide leaving your lips
as you open to speak to me.
It's so nice to meet you.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
It's quite quiet when you reach the end
When you're lying all alone
With bones beside you, but the love is gone
And 3 a.m. comes crashing down
With nowhere to go but a breath's length away
It's quite vague when you count your thoughts
When you're peering through
With automatic wants to redeem, but our bodies block the bathroom door
And every word is a strangled gift
With love stopped dead behind teeth
It's quite lonely when you find yourself
When transcendental twirls cease
With a horror unworthy of any release, but the anchor's rust tastes so clean
And the rope is burning too much to let go
With absolutely nothing, you're set free
It's quite quiet when morning birds cry in their sleep.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 6:53 AM UTC
A bitterness we accept with arms open
one pacing, other stumbling
sparing a glance at the black stain pedaling below my collar bone
you weren't there to see
A raw corner lip
and skin tight across the bones on the chain fence
and bare eyelashes fluttering in front of flashing images of two
but there was always three
Comforted by a steady ache ebbing in and out of tune
A dainty release with a silence darkened by love
"I'll let you go" not just a pause
but a final stamp
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 6:52 AM UTC
A *** bottle slowly imploding in on itself for a universe – you told me that was how you were born.
If Man wants to be soothed, Man avoids the trampling, follows the drumming
thrumming beats, and Man finds peace in a glass bottle full of itself. Artic ocean
ease in a cupped hand, press into a paper and find release.
Snap, there’s a picture, Man takes it to a pin and lets it sit for the world, meaning
nothing to Man other than perhaps an igloo or self-royalty dream.
I’ll take all the dark parts of your heart for you, She said with a kiss, knowing full
well that he would have nothing left.
That boy talked to Man and they had a good conversation they could drown in.
Spectacles skewed and clothes everywhere, a swarm of self pity breathing fresh snow air.
Man said, sorry, I can’t feel.
“Who are we?”
Man said, shhhh, you know I can’t hear you; I can’t feel.
So just miss me hard.
http://suchpoeticthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/11/human-qualities.html
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 1:08 AM UTC
Looking at this blank paper, I know this poem is mad.
Stop socializing so I can walk down the hall exposed.
I hate everywhere I’m at,
With everything I have and I’m not.
I was always the one to stand up and wonder aloud,
Run with a high-pitched laugh even.
Back with stable bridges,
Now to crying mirrors.
A month away from that sneaking revelation.
I feel bad for my body. It didn’t choose me.
It didn’t know what I’d become.
Now it has to sit here and accept my cruelties;
I clutch my body as she shivers.
It’s not everyday you wake up to
Pounce upon - we won't say.
(And stay.)
I’m starting to think the opposite,
For rain never leaves the desert completely.
http://suchpoeticthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/10/lover-i-dont-have-to-love.html
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 1:27 PM UTC
A girl tells her phone she's in love.
Be brave. He leans back in the chair.
A raised fist. Poised. Angry? Demanding? Knock knock.
Tattered, stained beige shirt pressed into the rim of the trash can, half in, its owner's head calling for his wife.
Multiple two hour drives, erasing eight lost years (fight to stay lost).
She says, "I love you" in a different language when she has to lie.
One plate of reheated goodness, served with amour.
The same girl, looking for a stranger in thousands of faces - she just wants to ask the reason.
They stare at the wrinkles in the wood and wonder if the lines will ask each other, for them.
A glorious sunset reflecting on cream stone walls, curls and marble staring at her feet.
http://suchpoeticthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/11/specifically-ten.html
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC
1.
There was a lot different,
not much we could say,
just a few swollen words;
A half dead bed for two.
An "I love you"
When you don't have to.
2.
They all ran away.
Little servants of their time
defining a salty sort of courage.
When you know,
you know evil as a warm welcome.
3.
Gladly falling in hate with my green paisley wallpaper
with some sort of pasta meal
enhanced with genetic forever love
and I'll say a new "Ja kocham cie."
http://suchpoeticthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/11/littles.html
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 1:25 PM UTC
10/24
I wonder what my poems will be about once I understand us, and myself.
10/27 a.m.
A broken girl on a greyhound bus - how lyrical.
10/27 p.m.
I felt like I was being taken to my execution, but I was only going to your apartment.
11/5
"Now all I think about is you."
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 1:24 PM UTC
Bones deflected the actions.
Dreams - wait nightmares - no, dreams. Haunt me.
All said, falling down the sky in waves.
Your stories, his or whomever, waving but looking the other way.
Another he turns to shadow-I, heavier than a child, and is diligent. Behaves.
What is the standard for being enough? Still Another he may know.
If nothing else, where can someone reach in?
Instead of flashes of being.
How do I notice I'm alive? - scrape myself away from my glinting rigid body.
Trees grow while I'm in overdrive - subhuman.
Pressed ideas into their heads - that's there - I be it.
"You're not here to re-re-re-replicate."
Fixed states
That bear of a thought
Nestled in the curve of my nose and in between his shredded palms.
Eighteen, newly, and already dead in between breaths.
http://suchpoeticthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/11/another-language.html
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 1:24 PM UTC
I’ll hum as we take things
For granted
Because come on
No one ever really wants to know
And we’ll seek a bitter town
For a repressed enlightenment
You and your filthy smile
Draws me in from my DNA
Tricky tricky, spinning me around
And around
Cause you like it, the
Crystalline structure of fear
You, when you’re selfishly brilliant at
Keeping a silence
Muting like the snow
She would never think she would
Love lonely quiet
Who am I? I thought you were
Supposed to know
http://suchpoeticthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/11/winter-in-my-ears.html
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC