bg: Poems

ENEMY

bg Jul 2017

ENEMY

sometimes to stay alive
you've got to **** your mind,
cause the monsters in your head
are bigger than any in real life.
what's a battle without fear?
what's a war without some doubt?
what's a scream from your two lungs
when your mind feels twice as loud?
would you ever have to fight
without the thoughts that fill your head?
maybe your greatest ally
is your greatest enemy instead.

- b.g

05/07/17

hatred.

bg Feb 2018

hatred.

crystalline hatred
an obstruction in my veins
it pumps through my heart,
more familiar than my own crimson blood.
the black of hatred.
despicable, that's what you are
how do you live with yourself?
they say "forgive, forget"
but I can't muster up that sort of grace
i wish I could just erase
everything that created this
hate
but over time the lies they crystallize
and the pain brings no gain only more rainy days
and I long
for freedom
but how can love radiate through my being
if the hatred remains
not sugar but salt
crystalline hatred.

self-destruction.

bg Feb 2018

self-destruction.

I can't tame this longing.
Loneliness is its sustenance.
A brilliant supernova -
the collision of two souls -
is what my heart desires.
The surge of energy to replenish
the dead wilderness of its shattered expanses.
A bolt of lightning
to rejuvenate the sparks of feelings
I can only dream will someday return. Yet so spectacular are these phenomena,
more so are they temporary - vanishing from existence
in mere
seconds,
leaving only devastation in their wake.
So while I thirst after the new life
that I so wish would fill my soul once more,
would new life not soon give way to death?
Would I not end up right where I currently stand,
filled with the same
monotonous
longing for that which will only destroy me again?

stretch marks.

bg Nov 2017

stretch marks.

Golden threads
Of skilfully incarcerated flesh
Woven webs
Across a flawless expanse
Of skin
Tiger stripes
She earned them
One for every day of pain
One for every step she took away
From him
Stripes of battle
Stripes of war
Too little butter
Too much bread
Skin stretched across her being
Like priceless art
An all consuming unfulfilling overflowing emptiness
Only fully represented in each mark

water.

bg Nov 2017

water.

weightless water
dripping,
dripping onto skin.
the first shower fragile and refreshing,
not yet enough to wear you thin.
water not so weightless,
sharper than a million pins,
slowly but surely piercing,
chipping away within.
water wearing wounds
for each blemish on your being,
tearing down what you have built,
wanting higher, better things.
water waves crushing
the soul held together with strings,
a drowning suffocation
disguised as the prize you must win.
water in my airways.
water in my lungs.
water drowning my will to live,
punishment for what I have not done.
weightless water
dripping,
dripping through my soul.
for a thousand ceaseless drops
are heavy enough to make a hole.

words.

bg Jul 2017

words.

each word he said
was like a solid brick unto her mind
so she built a golden tower
and climbed its stairs into the sky.
with each word she made it higher
the prized possession of her heart
its golden bricks creating sunshine
warm enough to heal his scars.
but when the bricks began to crumble
the tower tumbling to the floor
she saw that all his words
were debris of his own and nothing more.
she thought that he'd destroyed her
but it was all inside her head
for it was what she had created
that ended up killing her instead.

— The End —