Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Nov 2017 Lexi
Rachael Judd
At one moment, your depression is telling you that you don't care what happens. Then the next moment, your anxiety is screaming and clawing at you to do something. Having depression and anxiety is a constant war inside of yourself. Though, there are no winners.
Lexi Nov 2017
Sleep. Sleep away your pain. It's
all you can do.
  Nov 2017 Lexi
Bella
Am I the,
Artistic type?
The one who sees the world through a different lens
who turns sounds into colors
and sites in to Smells
into feeling
and two children running are not children running
they’re Happiness
Joy
their giggles turn into Yellow and Pastel Pink
turn to Sunshine
turn to Waking
turn to Serenity
Relaxing on the beach
where you can hear the baby blue and white waves
and see the soft calming sand slipping through your fingers and toes
turning to…

Maybe-- I am the,
Partying type.
Ragers
Dance Grinding
music Pounding
the same beat of our heads
of our bodies
flashing lights
the dark and the heat
Wild
Drinking Screaming
loving one another with our bodies
not caring who it is
because
our bodies don't care
if we are in sync
what is the difference
the same…

What if I'm the,
Frantic type?
the Busy type
Scrambling, Rushing
time is something I don't have Time for
running is my Past
if only I had Passed Time
noise flies by
not looking anywhere but straight
car horns, buildings, wind blowing
the sound of friction across my own skin and the skin of those like me.
that is my Familiarity
Air I do not Breathe
it flows through me.
it hits me and I consume it
I do not Break for it
I cannot Break for it
I…

How about,
the Silent One?
nose in a book,
hearing the voices in the background.
looking up occasionally, to see the others.
see their confusion.
their Hindsight is my Foresight,
I understand what will happen before it does.
because,
I've seen it before,
I can look ahead,
see the outcome,
slow down the world like it's a video in an editing software that I can stop.
Slow down.
Rewind.
Rewatch.
that I can…

Perhaps,
I am all of them.
Perhaps,
it doesn't matter.
I can turn the sounds rushing by me hitting my skin into color
I can separate time into partying and people watching
Both are possible.
life doesn't have to pass in one form,
it can be Technicolor
and Beautiful at the same time.
sound can pass into colors
and life can either Fly
or Pause-- and drag on.
Either way, it's okay--
because it's me.
  Nov 2017 Lexi
IoanaDreams
**** me and then put me in a coffin
next to that majestic oak.
Look at my pale face while you wrap the lifeless body in a black cloak.
Start a fire, but don’t burn yourself just to hide me in the smoke.
The words on your lips wound my existence, until, on them, i choke:

“Sleep easy, sleep well, my little darling,
soon i’ll be with you, when the stars start falling.
Dream sweet, dream of me, my tender starling,
everything is going to be all right, there will be no more crying.
  Nov 2017 Lexi
hannah
we are sentient,
we carve ourselves from gravel,
from volcanic rock and dying evergreen.

we crawl through clouds of dust,
limp on injured feet, tired hands.
we are arbitrary, we evolved to decay.

because we live in graveyards of our own
before,
dead selves.
we bury grief, after every
collapse, every bitter break of these bones.

we keep our skin as treasure.
we dig out our eyes,
to replace them with hands,
as if what we see,
could somehow be grasped,
and what he hold,
could somehow become lost.

cotton,
cotton we wove from webbed skin,
from burnt hair.

veins,
that were never meant to burst,
veins we thread needles through,
as if they were yarn,
as if they were something we could use to stitch ourselves back up again.
I feel no less than broken. It's 3 in the morning and I have been crying into my pillow, my hands, my clothes, for the past 2 hours. Something has broken, something, that for so long, I thought was unbreakable, but now it settles itself in front of me like smoke. And i am trying so hard to not inhale it.
  Nov 2017 Lexi
OnyxSea
The shattered world vanishes beneath thee,
the emptiness, now pervading within me.
I see what was once there before,
now ceasing to be there at all.

What I once called,
my life and my family,
the cornerstones of my very identity,
turning into dust, a part of my memory.

Even this, ceases to be,
what was "forever", now just a "could be"
time erodes all that I deem,
important to no one, except me.

Yet this breaking,
deconstruction of worlds,
changes my perception,
for good or for ill,
into something beyond,
becoming adjourned,
into a part of something, new it may be.

My ideas begin to break,
my thoughts begin to shatter.
What was important, now doesn't even matter.
I recall a time, things were important to me,
now no different than the dust beneath me.

I then pay attention, to what is void and apparent.
The unchanging past, and the future in development.
I see what was broken, will be made anew,
and that there is nothing that won't be so.

Breaking my mind, breaking my soul,
breaking the heart that tears me so.
Overwhelming the part constituting this "me",
what then dies, is now reborn to see.

Of a time once past,
of a future yet to be.
Of a wholly new perspective,
rich as can be.

Our lives are such,
a deconstruction of the past,
to make a better future,
for every one of us.
Lexi Nov 2017
I
am
a bottle.
Have you ever
filled a bottle with
Pop so much that it over
flows and sprays everywhere?
Put that into an emotion. I am a bottle. Filled with emotions that
threaten to be spoken, Thoughts that when I try to speak all I taste is fizz. Pointless. When you shake the bottle, you're ruining the way I carefully avoid eye contact and cautiously choose certain words. Ask me what's wrong and you're now opening the bottle. Get ready,
I am going to explode.
Late night or early morning thoughts..

I tried making it into a pop bottle shape.. ****
Next page