polished-bones - Hello Poetry

Pin ****** repeatedly, dance across the newly frayed skin, once more. Just once. Just twice. Third time is the charm when your own cells ebb like malcontented waves, withering at my touch. Grasping vainly for some clarification of my recent actions, I return empty handed, again. When the world is muted, spinning faster than I could have thought possible my sullen, achy mind is quiet at last. No more pondering, no more desolate thoughts creeping, seething through my veins, only gasoline. All the violence makes my body tired, while my mind falls back into a state of decay, decrepit, unruly, intrusive thoughts that have an equal or greater reaction than the last. Everlong is the circle in which I manage my pitiful party of one. Opaque is the blood that blooms from within me, ***** like I am. Grotesque like the soul it inhabits. Nothing hurts when your head is brimming, boiling over with vehemence, nothing hurts when you can't feel your hands as they shake. Nor can I feel how abandoned, betrayed, or how heavy my heart feels when I can't swallow my own saliva. When my eyes refuse to focus, when I'm just a shell of a human, when I am no longer coherent, that is my greatest peace.

0

Dec 8, 2016

Dec 8, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC

Untitled

Pin ****** repeatedly, dance across the newly frayed skin, once more. Just once. Just twice. Third time is the charm when your own cells ebb like malcontented waves, withering at my touch. Grasping vainly for some clarification of my recent actions, I return empty handed, again. When the world is muted, spinning faster than I could have thought possible my sullen, achy mind is quiet at last. No more pondering, no more desolate thoughts creeping, seething through my veins, only gasoline. All the violence makes my body tired, while my mind falls back into a state of decay, decrepit, unruly, intrusive thoughts that have an equal or greater reaction than the last. Everlong is the circle in which I manage my pitiful party of one. Opaque is the blood that blooms from within me, ***** like I am. Grotesque like the soul it inhabits. Nothing hurts when your head is brimming, boiling over with vehemence, nothing hurts when you can't feel your hands as they shake. Nor can I feel how abandoned, betrayed, or how heavy my heart feels when I can't swallow my own saliva. When my eyes refuse to focus, when I'm just a shell of a human, when I am no longer coherent, that is my greatest peace.

5

Vapid. Benign. Glossy uninhabited orbs, sunken into my waxen skin. My rib cage rattles with rutted breath, breathing seems foreign. Tempestuous is the cage that holds my temper. I hate myself more than anyone could fathom within an evening, within a drink at a bar, within the xanax I swallow once, twice, three times to forget the love around me that I do not receive. Once. Twice. Three knocks at the stall of the bathroom I've found myself unconscious in. Unfamiliar graffiti, unfamiliar hands around me, gravitating towards my face, the unclarity of my actions calls out to me. I do not know this place. I do not my soul in this moment. Incoherent thoughts stumble around my mind, trying to right myself enough to raise up off the frozen, unyielding tile I've found my shell nested on. The drive home is incessant . Eons go by glaring like the red lights I run to escape the seconds I left behind in the toilet. Cornered like an animal in my own home, I tear myself asunder, my flesh seethes against itself, abhorred that this , this is what I was given. A prison I can never escape from, relentless. Ruthless. Ashen cavernous ravines bloom forth from my skin. The metal slithers across sallow pulp, trying to connect parts of myself that were never meant to fit. Unabashed at the sudden onslaught of depreciating humor in situation. I long to be safe within the wall I have built for myself, housed myself, grown for only myself. Repercussion is an unfamiliar fleeting feeling when I seethe hatred for my soul so wholly. When I emanate the unmitigated repugnance for who I've grown into a person. Subdued by the caress of the silk blanket on my skin, I vacate my conscious, freely, boorish. Clouded nights reflect the obstructed thoughts that lull me into unconsciousness, as I dream of another day where I feel the love, skin, the smell of someone who is home in my mind, so that I may for one unabashed moment feel languid and serene. One day that I might feel a part of an everlasting universe that revolves around the moonstuck effervesce emanating from the whole I've been missing.

0

Dec 7, 2016

Dec 7, 2016 at 10:03 AM UTC

Untitled

Vapid. Benign. Glossy uninhabited orbs, sunken into my waxen skin. My rib cage rattles with rutted breath, breathing seems foreign. Tempestuous is the cage that holds my temper. I hate myself more than anyone could fathom within an evening, within a drink at a bar, within the xanax I swallow once, twice, three times to forget the love around me that I do not receive. Once. Twice. Three knocks at the stall of the bathroom I've found myself unconscious in. Unfamiliar graffiti, unfamiliar hands around me, gravitating towards my face, the unclarity of my actions calls out to me. I do not know this place. I do not my soul in this moment. Incoherent thoughts stumble around my mind, trying to right myself enough to raise up off the frozen, unyielding tile I've found my shell nested on. The drive home is incessant . Eons go by glaring like the red lights I run to escape the seconds I left behind in the toilet. Cornered like an animal in my own home, I tear myself asunder, my flesh seethes against itself, abhorred that this , this is what I was given. A prison I can never escape from, relentless. Ruthless. Ashen cavernous ravines bloom forth from my skin. The metal slithers across sallow pulp, trying to connect parts of myself that were never meant to fit. Unabashed at the sudden onslaught of depreciating humor in situation. I long to be safe within the wall I have built for myself, housed myself, grown for only myself. Repercussion is an unfamiliar fleeting feeling when I seethe hatred for my soul so wholly. When I emanate the unmitigated repugnance for who I've grown into a person. Subdued by the caress of the silk blanket on my skin, I vacate my conscious, freely, boorish. Clouded nights reflect the obstructed thoughts that lull me into unconsciousness, as I dream of another day where I feel the love, skin, the smell of someone who is home in my mind, so that I may for one unabashed moment feel languid and serene. One day that I might feel a part of an everlasting universe that revolves around the moonstuck effervesce emanating from the whole I've been missing.

6

Tepid waves seethe across my body as I melt back into subtile remorse. I am no longer myself, when the sun rises and I cease to realize the severity of my grief. When will I exhale the poison I've interwoven within my lungs. Stagnant, acrid, tarnished with the thoughts of waking up as someone else, waking up somewhere else, just being anything else. How long can I soak in melodramatic tendencies before I'm too old to change the way I felt in winter. The way I felt when leaves changed and hit the crisp ground, when my breathe clung to the air on my break during night shift. When I smelled the change of the seasons that brought with them familiar thoughts of sleeping six feet under. One day I might change my view, I might make it out to somewhere that feels like home. I'll no longer be stuck out of place, out of time, hoping to catch the next ride over to the other side. Autumn won't remind me how much I hate myself. The leaves won't force me to reminisce about the days I've spent under the blankets avoiding life and the tremendous responsibility that comes with my loathing. One day I'll be happy. One day I'll wake up motivated and with purpose. One day the last thing I'll think about "what about today?"

0

Nov 19, 2016

Nov 19, 2016 at 10:38 AM UTC

Nuance

Tepid waves seethe across my body as I melt back into subtile remorse. I am no longer myself, when the sun rises and I cease to realize the severity of my grief. When will I exhale the poison I've interwoven within my lungs. Stagnant, acrid, tarnished with the thoughts of waking up as someone else, waking up somewhere else, just being anything else. How long can I soak in melodramatic tendencies before I'm too old to change the way I felt in winter. The way I felt when leaves changed and hit the crisp ground, when my breathe clung to the air on my break during night shift. When I smelled the change of the seasons that brought with them familiar thoughts of sleeping six feet under. One day I might change my view, I might make it out to somewhere that feels like home. I'll no longer be stuck out of place, out of time, hoping to catch the next ride over to the other side. Autumn won't remind me how much I hate myself. The leaves won't force me to reminisce about the days I've spent under the blankets avoiding life and the tremendous responsibility that comes with my loathing. One day I'll be happy. One day I'll wake up motivated and with purpose. One day the last thing I'll think about "what about today?"

1

I'm so inarticulate when I glance upon your face. I find myself lost too deep within you to make it out whole. I've been tracing your effigy everyday, in the back of my mind. You're consuming me like a fire set ablaze in the deepest ravines, that I carved with loneliness and pain. Ravaging everything around me with thoughts of wonder. Enchanted with the way your fingers look in the jacket with three brass buttons. Yearning for your acceptance, I feel juvenile compared to you. The sun continues to rotate and I casually slip into an everlasting dream in which you are the stars. I thought I was ready to love someone but I have fallen back in my feelings. I wish to know you, I would give my mortal soul to know your touch for a thousand lifetimes even just if it was one fleeting moment. Verging on tears, I'm more lonely than I have felt in months. Engulfed in the dismay, I simply wish I could captivate you, the way that I have woven you into every fiber of my being, simply by accident...it all feels natural to me. Stricken with the knowledge that you will tire of me, minutes, hours, months till everything I have encompassed means nothing to you. The leaves in fall won't remind you of my favorite season but of the dying facade I left behind. My untruthfulness will linger in the air, acrid and heavy. Untruthful when I told you I didn't care. Untruthful in the thought that I didn't have hindsight to part ways with you before I watched you drink yourself up to ask me for my number. There is nothing for me to lull myself to sleep in the early morning when you lay heavy on mind. There is nothing that quells the ache set cavernous in my bones, torrid against the flesh that houses my emptiness. There no outcome from this where I will ever be a whole person again.

0

Nov 11, 2016

Nov 11, 2016 at 8:43 AM UTC

rapture

I'm so inarticulate when I glance upon your face. I find myself lost too deep within you to make it out whole. I've been tracing your effigy everyday, in the back of my mind. You're consuming me like a fire set ablaze in the deepest ravines, that I carved with loneliness and pain. Ravaging everything around me with thoughts of wonder. Enchanted with the way your fingers look in the jacket with three brass buttons. Yearning for your acceptance, I feel juvenile compared to you. The sun continues to rotate and I casually slip into an everlasting dream in which you are the stars. I thought I was ready to love someone but I have fallen back in my feelings. I wish to know you, I would give my mortal soul to know your touch for a thousand lifetimes even just if it was one fleeting moment. Verging on tears, I'm more lonely than I have felt in months. Engulfed in the dismay, I simply wish I could captivate you, the way that I have woven you into every fiber of my being, simply by accident...it all feels natural to me. Stricken with the knowledge that you will tire of me, minutes, hours, months till everything I have encompassed means nothing to you. The leaves in fall won't remind you of my favorite season but of the dying facade I left behind. My untruthfulness will linger in the air, acrid and heavy. Untruthful when I told you I didn't care. Untruthful in the thought that I didn't have hindsight to part ways with you before I watched you drink yourself up to ask me for my number. There is nothing for me to lull myself to sleep in the early morning when you lay heavy on mind. There is nothing that quells the ache set cavernous in my bones, torrid against the flesh that houses my emptiness. There no outcome from this where I will ever be a whole person again.

1

Oh do I want you more than anything laid before me. You're an everlasting joy in my world spinning through space. I am a well meant for your caress in the sweetest heat. Nothing I knew of compares to the radiating feeling that emits from my soul seeing your face on my screen. I have laid myself here before you, broken, confused, rampant with thoughts about death that linger in the forefront of my mind...clouds in the sky part for your radiance. If I ever believed in angels this would be the time. Dismay wavers in me. I had thought to be cold, riddled with malcontent. Seeing you is like seeing the moon for the first time. I'm engulfed in beams of pure bliss. Words don't compare to you. Everlasting.

0

Oct 18, 2016

Oct 18, 2016 at 9:02 AM UTC

cold

Oh do I want you more than anything laid before me. You're an everlasting joy in my world spinning through space. I am a well meant for your caress in the sweetest heat. Nothing I knew of compares to the radiating feeling that emits from my soul seeing your face on my screen. I have laid myself here before you, broken, confused, rampant with thoughts about death that linger in the forefront of my mind...clouds in the sky part for your radiance. If I ever believed in angels this would be the time. Dismay wavers in me. I had thought to be cold, riddled with malcontent. Seeing you is like seeing the moon for the first time. I'm engulfed in beams of pure bliss. Words don't compare to you. Everlasting.

1

I want nothing more than to feel loved. I'm tired of feeling hollow in my bones, unfulfilled in life. Am I truly unbearable? Everyone else flows into the arms of someone and yet I can't even be looked at Out of place. Out of time. I'm beyond melancholy. Words don't even seem right on my tongue, I feel like a sponge who's absorbed too much water and left to rot. There's no one to hold me, caress me, let me know there's something greener in a different pasture. I'm tired. I don't have any fight left in me.. The end seems to be arriving sooner that I had thought.

0

Oct 3, 2016

Oct 3, 2016 at 4:15 AM UTC

fin/

I want nothing more than to feel loved. I'm tired of feeling hollow in my bones, unfulfilled in life. Am I truly unbearable? Everyone else flows into the arms of someone and yet I can't even be looked at Out of place. Out of time. I'm beyond melancholy. Words don't even seem right on my tongue, I feel like a sponge who's absorbed too much water and left to rot. There's no one to hold me, caress me, let me know there's something greener in a different pasture. I'm tired. I don't have any fight left in me.. The end seems to be arriving sooner that I had thought.

3

Sometimes at night, when it's the rainy season of spring, I feel like I will wander forever. As though I will never be anyone's favorite smell, or favorite flower. Almost as if I'm stuck in a time I don't belong, maybe even reality. I'm aching for something I couldn't explain. Longing for a place I couldn't accurately describe, that resides so deeply in my soul, I can feel myself expiring without it. Draining.

0

Apr 14, 2016

Apr 14, 2016 at 6:24 AM UTC

Untitled

Sometimes at night, when it's the rainy season of spring, I feel like I will wander forever. As though I will never be anyone's favorite smell, or favorite flower. Almost as if I'm stuck in a time I don't belong, maybe even reality. I'm aching for something I couldn't explain. Longing for a place I couldn't accurately describe, that resides so deeply in my soul, I can feel myself expiring without it. Draining.

2

I just dreamt that you never loved me. That I was engulfed in things I could not stand, and for the life of me, I found them unpleasant. You told me that the way I had acted when I was attacked had turned you off. You wrote it on a note with recipes. I could not stand you in that moment because it wasn't you. You were drunk. I know how this goes. All of this is a dream. Everything I had just imagined was a facade. My soul is distraught though, by my recreation of our friendship. I know I am hard to love. I know I'm not as beautiful as that girl you talked to yesterday. I know. I can't carry these feelings I have for you anymore. They are a burdon in themselves because I can not have you, and I really would love you.

0

Nov 23, 2015

Nov 23, 2015 at 5:27 AM UTC

Please stop

I just dreamt that you never loved me. That I was engulfed in things I could not stand, and for the life of me, I found them unpleasant. You told me that the way I had acted when I was attacked had turned you off. You wrote it on a note with recipes. I could not stand you in that moment because it wasn't you. You were drunk. I know how this goes. All of this is a dream. Everything I had just imagined was a facade. My soul is distraught though, by my recreation of our friendship. I know I am hard to love. I know I'm not as beautiful as that girl you talked to yesterday. I know. I can't carry these feelings I have for you anymore. They are a burdon in themselves because I can not have you, and I really would love you.

4

And in my days of loving you I have come to know more about myself than I thought possible. I am a never ending maze of emotion and gratitude for the time you took to show me that even wilted flowers bloom once more. Your patience withstood lifetimes of self loathing and internalized harm that took me to hell, where I could not see what life meant. I am renewed with a vigor to love someone as wholly as you have shown me. Because when I thought I was empty, you took yourself to fill me up without regard for what you would be left with. "I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone."

0

Nov 15, 2015

Nov 15, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC

o

And in my days of loving you I have come to know more about myself than I thought possible. I am a never ending maze of emotion and gratitude for the time you took to show me that even wilted flowers bloom once more. Your patience withstood lifetimes of self loathing and internalized harm that took me to hell, where I could not see what life meant. I am renewed with a vigor to love someone as wholly as you have shown me. Because when I thought I was empty, you took yourself to fill me up without regard for what you would be left with. "I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone."

2

I don't like you. I don't like you. I don't like you. I don't like you. I don't like you. I don't like you. I don't like you. I don't like you. I couldn't stand to hurt that much ever again. When the sun shines from your eyes, and I wither at your touch. I am not the one who gets your love. I'm not the one graced with your insecurities. I will never see the future swell from your lungs. You will never show up at my door unannounced, at the right time. You will never hold me as I fall prey to my loneliness, or the secrets that lie beneath my pallid flesh. There are no songs written about me in your head. I am not the sunrise or sunset. Your world revolves away from me and I am left within myself. I will not find you in this lifetime. I will not wake next to you years from now and look back at our happenstance meeting. I do not get you. I do not get to know your smell, or the way you sleep. I do not get to know you on holidays. I won't take pictures with your family. I do not get to make you smile or know your sadness when the weather hits you. I do not get you. I have never felt more sorry for myself.

0

Nov 15, 2015

Nov 15, 2015 at 2:35 AM UTC

finite

I don't like you. I don't like you. I don't like you. I don't like you. I don't like you. I don't like you. I don't like you. I don't like you. I couldn't stand to hurt that much ever again. When the sun shines from your eyes, and I wither at your touch. I am not the one who gets your love. I'm not the one graced with your insecurities. I will never see the future swell from your lungs. You will never show up at my door unannounced, at the right time. You will never hold me as I fall prey to my loneliness, or the secrets that lie beneath my pallid flesh. There are no songs written about me in your head. I am not the sunrise or sunset. Your world revolves away from me and I am left within myself. I will not find you in this lifetime. I will not wake next to you years from now and look back at our happenstance meeting. I do not get you. I do not get to know your smell, or the way you sleep. I do not get to know you on holidays. I won't take pictures with your family. I do not get to make you smile or know your sadness when the weather hits you. I do not get you. I have never felt more sorry for myself.

9