tyler-eldredge - Hello Poetry

i woke up at three a.m. my eyes wide breathing hard and shaking. a sharp intake of breath works to calm my nerves while my fingers ache and my hands tremble unfeeling. i arouse my legs to wakefulness— slide them from the warm comfort of my bed to the piercing chill of the hard wooden floor. coat on, feet slipped into boots; i go for a walk hoping that a trip ‘round the block will calm the sudden gaping fissure inside of me. after the door swings shut behind me, i turn to face the unyielding darkness. with my breath condensing into a moist cloud in front i confront the empty street. her tenebrous maw snaps at my unprotected ankles; her chill wind cracks my lips, leaving them ****** i feel her reaching deep inside of me grasping at where there is nothing. when i see the ice accumulating on the neighbors’ lawns, i realize that an under-dressed walk through the murky night might not have been the best idea. only then do i question why i’m here. what i’m doing, wandering the dark corridors of our quiet suburb, sheltered from reality. it’s disconcerting to be lost, isn’t it?

0

Nov 28, 2011

Nov 28, 2011 at 12:56 AM UTC

it's disconcerting to be lost, isn't it?

i woke up at three a.m. my eyes wide breathing hard and shaking. a sharp intake of breath works to calm my nerves while my fingers ache and my hands tremble unfeeling. i arouse my legs to wakefulness— slide them from the warm comfort of my bed to the piercing chill of the hard wooden floor. coat on, feet slipped into boots; i go for a walk hoping that a trip ‘round the block will calm the sudden gaping fissure inside of me. after the door swings shut behind me, i turn to face the unyielding darkness. with my breath condensing into a moist cloud in front i confront the empty street. her tenebrous maw snaps at my unprotected ankles; her chill wind cracks my lips, leaving them ****** i feel her reaching deep inside of me grasping at where there is nothing. when i see the ice accumulating on the neighbors’ lawns, i realize that an under-dressed walk through the murky night might not have been the best idea. only then do i question why i’m here. what i’m doing, wandering the dark corridors of our quiet suburb, sheltered from reality. it’s disconcerting to be lost, isn’t it?

32

Sh. Bring me your broken-hearted your downtrodden your shattered soul I'll wrap you in my warm embrace. In a nepenthe of bliss, I'll make you forget all your sadness, troubles and worry and wrap you snug in gentle puffs of smoke. Let me save you. Let me help you. Let me make you mine.

0

Sep 18, 2011

Sep 18, 2011 at 10:26 PM UTC

Gentle puffs of smoke

Sh. Bring me your broken-hearted your downtrodden your shattered soul I'll wrap you in my warm embrace. In a nepenthe of bliss, I'll make you forget all your sadness, troubles and worry and wrap you snug in gentle puffs of smoke. Let me save you. Let me help you. Let me make you mine.

12

it's one a.m. in the city i'm sitting outside the humid heat of the day pressing in through the night i sigh and she sighs with me. i'm perched on a ledge with a book in my lap a cigarette in my hand and her on my mind. i breathe and she breathes with me. all alone on this ridge i dangle my feet off the edge and i see lives pass by below me i watch and she watches with me.

0

Aug 9, 2011

Aug 9, 2011 at 10:17 PM UTC

it's one a.m. in the city

it's one a.m. in the city i'm sitting outside the humid heat of the day pressing in through the night i sigh and she sighs with me. i'm perched on a ledge with a book in my lap a cigarette in my hand and her on my mind. i breathe and she breathes with me. all alone on this ridge i dangle my feet off the edge and i see lives pass by below me i watch and she watches with me.

17

Usually When I’m feeling down, I bust out a box of colored pencils and bust a vein on the paper. But now I dig through the box, and I just can’t find those bright colors. I assure myself that they’re there. I know that they’re there. I want I need I beg for them to be there. But the deeper I dig The more I find blackness, darkness, jet black ebony murky, swarthy swaths of shadowy slate perilous, pitiless pitch somber, sober sable I keep digging.

0

Aug 9, 2011

Aug 9, 2011 at 8:01 PM UTC

Pencils

Usually When I’m feeling down, I bust out a box of colored pencils and bust a vein on the paper. But now I dig through the box, and I just can’t find those bright colors. I assure myself that they’re there. I know that they’re there. I want I need I beg for them to be there. But the deeper I dig The more I find blackness, darkness, jet black ebony murky, swarthy swaths of shadowy slate perilous, pitiless pitch somber, sober sable I keep digging.

20