Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
  Nov 2017 EtherealOmega
Uka
I can stick a gun in my mouth and it will jam. I can cut myself and miss. If I set myself on fire; it will rain to put me out. I can work up an appetite and not eat. If I stick my face to the wind; I won’t burn my skin. The world spins and I stay still. I can hear bombs from miles and crush rocks to sand. Give life to what is dead. I can move a hill to mountains’ domain and they won’t argue. I can throw the world into chaos and be praised. When I sit long enough; it is art. A mind can be set for this outcome. A person can image great future and greed. We have this power to march for one. We have this power to march for all. An unmovable object walks into a room. Does the room move with it? Or does it still stay? An unstoppable object steps on dry land. Does it crack? Or does it stay together? We are not malleable for a reason. But we can be broken with such few spaces. Such small and uneasy movements from across the world. It can be miles; but next to us. It’s impossible to march if no one knows how to dance. To waltz into trouble is easier than a solution’s dream. It is elegant and depressing as the same. We can compare scars but stay clothed and masked for others. We sometimes don’t miss when we cut. Sometimes the gun goes off. When a fire burns; it won’t be put out quick enough. This is real. This is life. But words mean more. Word mean more than actions because words are forever. A page can be lost and found. Paper can be cut and burned. But it’s still there in the mind of the writer. It’s still there in the mind of the poet. We as humans have the ability to move the hills. Move the world. But we care to not join. We, as many others, keep straight. We fall into the lines given ease. Giving the ease a way into the mindset of strength. Too much hate. Too much greed. Too much misunderstood points and confusion. We want to identify as something else to make us special. We want to be different than the person better than us. We worry about who said this and what they had done today. We look at horrifying things all day and change a picture to match it. We are numb. We are ignorant. We are invincible. And that’s sad.
EtherealOmega Nov 2017
I've tailored so many suits,
Switching out mismatched buttons for shining brass,
And restoring fabric worn thin over years of well-loved use.

But I cannot tailor this traitorous skin to fit me right.
In some placed it's too lose,
In others too tight…
I cannot switch out the pieces of me I'd rather live without
For new pieces shining with pride.
There is no way to restore a body to what it should have been,
Or even to the simple majesty of what it once was.

Young and ignorant of its uneven seams.

I've hemmed ladies' skirts to the perfect lengths
So they no longer need to worry about tripping over the excess.
Hemmed them to show just the right amount of ankle
Or perhaps none at all..

But I cannot hem myself..

This excess emotion staining my voice denoted me as "she."
And I trip over my own voice that no longer fits in my mouth..
While gorgeous girls in gowns show off thin strips of themselves,
I am left trying to hide every piece of my skin.

This is why I have risked sunstroke in the dead of summer
Wearing a hoodie and jeans to keep me safe.
This is why swimming pools are often synonymous with nightmare.

I no longer know how to wear this body with pride.

So when they ask me when I knew I wasn't a girl…
I have to restrain my urge to laugh and cry all at once.
Because when do we know that something is not as perfect as we once thought..
Only once it has been shown to us and we've been told to fix it.

I wish I could go back to being ignorant of my uneven seams.
These uneven seams that I cannot rip out unless I want to bleed out.
These uneven seams that I will never be able to fix to perfection.

But maybe…
Slowly,
Ever so slowly,
We might be able to stretch the seams of this world.
So that no child has to learn to hate or fear
Their jagged edges
Their unhemmable spaces…






But I cannot be one of those children..
So I will use chemicals to hem my voice..
Readjust my buttons…
Stretch my seams…
I will find a seamster more experienced then I
To rip out these traitorous strings
And rearrange the fabric to a more seemly drape.

I will use new fabric to cover up the patterns I am no longer proud of…
The patterns that cloud my days…
I will mend my ways
Learning to live in a patchwork maze
Until my spirit can return to where it truly belongs
In a beautiful blaze.
- EPL 11/6/2017
  May 2017 EtherealOmega
Kat
Nobody falls for you,
you only fall for yourself
Your head stuck on a shelf
Nothing but your ego left to sell

But you couldnt let it go
This hell is already here and melded
Manipulation and consideration-
All a grey shield

Its already been welded.
No space for
Me.
  May 2017 EtherealOmega
Selenium
Let me make this easy.
I am a beach house
Being rebuilt after every storm,
Waiting for the waves to crash I am
Never quite ready.
Every time I hear there is another chance one may hit
I do not prepare myself.
Theres no such thing as indestructible walls
I will have to rebuild myself again and again.
Let me make this easy.
I am a piece of paper.
Being written on is what defines me.
A glass of water can easily be my fate.
No one apologizes when you throw me away.
They will always need to write again.
I will always be ready to be there for when they need to use me.
Let me make this easy
I am an old computer.
My ones and zeros make up all the things a person sees.
1998 was when I came out.
A newer version is thinner and shiny.
I cannot compete with their ones and zeros.
Nor can I erase the memories you have trusted in me.
I will keep your secrets.
Let me make this easy.
I am an old sweater, stains valor
I kept you warm and now I'm collecting dust on your closet floor.
I am an pen out of ink, useless now
But whenever you needed to write I was always at your fingertips
waiting.
I am an empty suitcase only there when you need something to hold your things.
I am the old recipes to things you don't remember buying.
I am the scars on your hand only there to remind of your past.
Let me make this easy.
I am only there when you want me.
I'll continue to wait.
EtherealOmega Apr 2017
Now that you are asleep dear I can think clearly about us.

The two people that we were, we are, and that we are becoming;
And while sometimes it terrifies me right now it merely brings a small smile to my face.

Because we are still here. Together. After nearly a two years and a half. The longest I have stayed by someone's side like this.

Bridging the gap between friends and lovers, and I think I could stay like this for years to come if only the stars will smile upon us.

But just like the stars I will wander, and because of that I worry when you call me your world. I have never wanted to be someone's world - especially not after seeing what can happen to someone who builds their universe around another whom they might eventually come to lose.
I do not want to be your galaxy, or your world, or your everything because…

Darling, my darling, my dear..

Your world is not a single people or even three.. Your world is everything you make it to be. It is everything you have ever done. Everything you will do. It is every song you sing. Every game you play. Every word you speak. And every life you touch and change.

I am just a small - though I'd like to believe important - piece to that vast and still growing space.

And, dear one. Though I know you would stand against this, I know that in the end I am just as replaceable as everyone on this Earth within your life. And though you may not understand that makes what we have all the sweeter for me. Because I don't long for forever anymore. Just for now and however long now can last.. If it's the rest of our lives then I'll rejoice, but if not I'm glad to have l retaught you what it means like to fall fast. To fall fast into love.

I hope I never have to teach you what it means to fall out of love like a thunderstorm beating it's refrain against our hearts.. but if I ever do just remember that just as I filled parts of a void left in your life by another special someone, another sweet human will come along to remind you what it means to smile again.

But they will not pick up your shards because my darling you are not glass. You are a will and soul of iron. You may be dented and bent sometimes, but you will never be broken. That next person will warm your soul.. They will fill up a place which you thought was lost to someone of the past. Perhaps me. Perhaps another. Regardless they will fill it just as you will fill something in them, and the warmth will let you change again. In the end they will welcome you into the forge of their hearts and you will either come out dented again yet stronger for it or stronger still than that with a bit more of your old shape now sharpened into a steel of comfort. Either way you will grow..

Just keep growing. With me by your side. Lets grown together for now because we still have so much farther to go. Do not think of yourself as old. You are merely aging. No time has been wasted because we are all aging; and sometimes a 10 year old can be older than a 50 year old. Age is a number it is the experiences we have lived which give us our growth, and right now we are still in a stage where we can be so very naive like babes yet in the swaddling cloth. How else would we have thought about forever in regards to two souls.

Despite this though. I wish to stand by you till the end of whatever we are. Until we can no longer shield, and guide, and care for one another. You have helped teach me to go from a place where I thought my body was all I could give as a token of care for another person to a place where I know my worth is more than what is written in my flesh.

So, my wolf... My Irish Lycanthrope.. Do not call me or make me your moon or your world.. Just allow me to be another treasured piece of the life you are building knowing that though you can live on without me.. You don't want to for now.

Just let me stand by your side, and that will be enough for however long the fates have appointed to us.
I really don't know what this is, but awhile ago.. it just flowed out and became beautiful. So I thought it was finally time to post it.

Here's to words spilled upon canvassed that may never be read by who they were written for, and for the lies we sometimes tell ourselves.
Welcome to my mind's late nights, Everyone.
- EPL (EtherealOmega)
ill bite my lip
hard
i hate the taste of blood
but suddenly i need it
i need to feel it
on my tongue
down my throat
in my neck
red
like the sea that moses split
in the stories i used to believe and read as a child
but i dont read too much anymore
its a shame really
i could be so smart
wasted potential
i could be so **** smart
wasted space
I could be SO **** SMART
wasted air
I COULD BE SO ******* SMART
WASTED


and as i look back i see a shadow of who i once was
and a shadow of who i could be
and both of those shadows
both of those shadows
are much more beautiful than me
Next page