shutupchrissy - Hello Poetry

Keyed away all the time Only entrance is a time bomb Repress and hide without a doubt But explode with the slightest bump If your brain is a lock, then ***** is a key Drink clockwise to keep it shut But a blade turned left can be used to unlock The door is always jammed anyways You’re not a monster But you drink when you think you are To forget or repress Perhaps the habit is the simplest part I envision the pool of blood With a bottle dropped by your blue hand The vein is easier to enter than your mind Bleeding out with a numbness to accompany You say you’re not an addict Just a man with an unhealthy habit Regardless of that, my friend This will be guiding you towards your end I see and know so little You are mysterious and completely closed But intuitively it’s obvious How you are not the **** you think you should hide I do not know your story But I do know your expression I do not know your true self But I do know your suffering And no collection of particles So decent and at worst neutrally charged Would ever deserve drinking and thinking Themself to death You are seen and you are heard You are validated and assured You are not a disease or infection You are not a monster or mutation Keep the door locked if you wish But don’t wait until it has to be impounded You can unlock without the spirits And open your mouth and mind

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Dec 12, 2018

Dec 12, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC

shutupchrissy

Your Unhealthy Introversion

Keyed away all the time Only entrance is a time bomb Repress and hide without a doubt But explode with the slightest bump If your brain is a lock, then ***** is a key Drink clockwise to keep it shut But a blade turned left can be used to unlock The door is always jammed anyways You’re not a monster But you drink when you think you are To forget or repress Perhaps the habit is the simplest part I envision the pool of blood With a bottle dropped by your blue hand The vein is easier to enter than your mind Bleeding out with a numbness to accompany You say you’re not an addict Just a man with an unhealthy habit Regardless of that, my friend This will be guiding you towards your end I see and know so little You are mysterious and completely closed But intuitively it’s obvious How you are not the **** you think you should hide I do not know your story But I do know your expression I do not know your true self But I do know your suffering And no collection of particles So decent and at worst neutrally charged Would ever deserve drinking and thinking Themself to death You are seen and you are heard You are validated and assured You are not a disease or infection You are not a monster or mutation Keep the door locked if you wish But don’t wait until it has to be impounded You can unlock without the spirits And open your mouth and mind

40

My body is a canvas of distress Perhaps somebody will notice That the destruction of the inside Can be expressed from the outside I use my body to scream from my brain I can use a fork and a blade as a brush Both will create different patterns on me One shows dignity and one shows suffering Which masterpiece will I let them see The smaller I get, the louder I can paint The less I need, the more I can draw Do not applaud this ever changing art Burn it, destroy it, and **** it- that’s how it’s made Creation via destruction is all I know My plate sculpts words I can’t form Tangled thoughts get carved into art Please see beyond the splashes of color And dare to question and wonder If the red paint was made from blood Or the blue from self induced tears This painted discipline went further Than the artist ever could expect It should be stopped when it was put it the Louvre But the brush is stuck and the painting doesn’t end It goes on and on because The more you paint, the more canvas you need to cover A cry for help and expression Warps into a never dying obsession Please wash off the pigment Erase the pencil marks Never let me turn my head into art

0

Dec 12, 2018

Dec 12, 2018 at 9:22 AM UTC

shutupchrissy

Canvas of Distress

My body is a canvas of distress Perhaps somebody will notice That the destruction of the inside Can be expressed from the outside I use my body to scream from my brain I can use a fork and a blade as a brush Both will create different patterns on me One shows dignity and one shows suffering Which masterpiece will I let them see The smaller I get, the louder I can paint The less I need, the more I can draw Do not applaud this ever changing art Burn it, destroy it, and **** it- that’s how it’s made Creation via destruction is all I know My plate sculpts words I can’t form Tangled thoughts get carved into art Please see beyond the splashes of color And dare to question and wonder If the red paint was made from blood Or the blue from self induced tears This painted discipline went further Than the artist ever could expect It should be stopped when it was put it the Louvre But the brush is stuck and the painting doesn’t end It goes on and on because The more you paint, the more canvas you need to cover A cry for help and expression Warps into a never dying obsession Please wash off the pigment Erase the pencil marks Never let me turn my head into art

31

I pondered killing the one I hated most The horrifying villain inside of me I never let it show outside my skin But if I didn’t disappear it would win The creature looked just like me Perhaps why I hated it most Because it was who I am But could never let anyone see I wanted to **** it before it became me I tried to fight it, yet it engulfed my existence By trying to ****** the devil inside myself I ended up destroying the only bits I loved I am gone. That was me, I miss them. All I have become is the monster I tried to end Shrinking my externality would decrease the inside Or perhaps that’s what I thought would happen Could I compensate for the nonliteral space The space and existence I seem to waste With my voice, my thoughts, my soul Could I force myself not to exist at all? In a quest to shed my shell I shed only the neutrality of myself The villain still strongly resides It wears my face and now it shrinks me too It devours them, the me I love There is so little left to know Completely entirely possessed By the thing I tried to suppress I am withering away If you know me, you don’t Just the devil inside masquerading Think I can come back? I probably won’t.

0

Dec 12, 2018

Dec 12, 2018 at 9:20 AM UTC

shutupchrissy

It Wears My Face Because I Tried To **** It

I pondered killing the one I hated most The horrifying villain inside of me I never let it show outside my skin But if I didn’t disappear it would win The creature looked just like me Perhaps why I hated it most Because it was who I am But could never let anyone see I wanted to **** it before it became me I tried to fight it, yet it engulfed my existence By trying to ****** the devil inside myself I ended up destroying the only bits I loved I am gone. That was me, I miss them. All I have become is the monster I tried to end Shrinking my externality would decrease the inside Or perhaps that’s what I thought would happen Could I compensate for the nonliteral space The space and existence I seem to waste With my voice, my thoughts, my soul Could I force myself not to exist at all? In a quest to shed my shell I shed only the neutrality of myself The villain still strongly resides It wears my face and now it shrinks me too It devours them, the me I love There is so little left to know Completely entirely possessed By the thing I tried to suppress I am withering away If you know me, you don’t Just the devil inside masquerading Think I can come back? I probably won’t.

32