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4d · 44
What's real
Motionless I writhe
am I awake, asleep...alive?
I can't tell anymore
as i fall through the floor,
and just keep slowly sinking
"Am i being
a lonely weakling
for leaving
my feelings
unseen."

If so then why has

this healing been
a rather slow process.
But though i let
the blur grow into a mess
It is with great regret

So, with a lit cigarette
I sigh.

Waiting to waken,
succumbto slumber
or release the last sliver of life
from my eyes.
Feb 6 · 61
Fading away
My shadow's seductive song
steers me into a comatose state,
as a deep slumber or senseless stupor
envelops me
...helpless...paralyzed
It starts to gnaw away
at what I thought was real.
leaving a murky thick blur,
that swallows
like the black rushing wave
of an absolute abyss.
Twisting dark spirals cluster,
as a pulsating pressure
thuds away urgently like a ticking
clock counting down the time

Slowly as I sink,
I embrace its cold peace
that's sweetly sweeps over me.
Jan 6 · 44
Burnt
charred skin cleanse by fire
wraps 'round my body
like a deathly black cocoon
where
scars burns and bruises blur
as my searing limbs
engulfed in flames
shriek
what burns away as ash
becomes the trail of the fires
i forged forward through
and
as my corpse collapses
let me be reborn as a Phoenix
so we may forge forward together
free and new
The burning away of what makes us feel disfigured or worthy of being thrown away is a painful process. one that is often done alone, but whether you burn those things away with God or family or work , healing will take place.
Nov 2019 · 92
Uncertain seed
William de klerk Nov 2019
Uncertainty clings to my mind
like morning due to brand-new greenery.
I know not what weeds lurk unseen
nor of the beauty that has yet to be

should I remain a lone flower
sheltered in the shield of a sepal
in waiting for my hour of opening
unprotected to the proud of people
yet fully alive, honest and free.

OR am I that withering ****
in need of severing with one Swift swing .
harsh enduring and ruthless
a hideous prickly mess
growing at the price death

one day will I grow to bare a beautiful fruit
or
draw blood from those that pull on my root
A random seed , has the potential to grow into anything , some see the plants we label as a **** as undesirable, but a **** will grow and endure at all costs , while a frail flower might be suffocated by a **** , it's short and beautiful life will certainly be more celebrated
Nov 2019 · 73
Headspace
William de klerk Nov 2019
I'm not in a hurry
to meet the better part of me

I mean it's a journey
a... self discovery

So...
take it slow,
     after all

you can't get a glimpse
of your face in the mirror
if you run past it in terror

Try and...

Think of the bad
 as a bitter poison
  that we drink so that soon,
hopefully... we become immune
to the toxins in our own head
or risk further blood shed

the choice is yours
fight the wars in your mind
and maybe you'll find a better way
or live in your own turmoil
6 feet beneath the soil
This to me is the struggle to accept yourself as you are , and trying to contend with the things you hate about yourself that plague your mind , the truth is a bitter poison, and so is insecurity and any other battle you have raging on inside your head each day, but regardless of what the battle it is, the result is death if you lose, death of the version of you , you could become , death of  your emotions or I'm some cases literal death. But not all wars need to be fought sometimes we can walk around the war zone.
Nov 2019 · 83
Ashes
William de klerk Nov 2019
The last of my self-poisoning Burns away,
and as the cigarette shortens
so does the noose from which I swing

leaving a locked door for an open window
on the second storey floor
Im in a free-fall while smiling
because I don't care anymore.

So if I hit the ground half as hard
as the harmful thoughts in my head
I know I'd be better off dead

but instead

here I stand over a buried body
reading a eulogy for the memory
of the part of me I let die
before a newborn Phoenix learns to fly
From the ashes of a cigarette rises the part of me that has been freed from what I felt
Oct 2019 · 93
Brothers in harm
William de klerk Oct 2019
Wearing warm smiles
we locked ourselves
in a broken glass handshake,
     knowing...
we would sew each other up again.

Our blood brother bond
tied us together like
a barbed wire rope
while we waged our tug of war,
just to turn scared skin into armor.

Now disfigured and damaged
to chase away the world,
together we wait for the rain
to wash away our ****** bread crumbs.

While we walk arm and arm
holding each other up
slowly draining each other dry...
brother in harm,

I miss you
goodbye.
Sep 2019 · 497
Flower on the dash in march
William de klerk Sep 2019
Our beginning , like new life
was pure.

So far away are the days that like the horizon seemed filled with eternal promises to face
side by side.

First as friends,
then as frolicking fools
too blind to see the roads sharp fork
that would divide like a deep chasm.

Still, we rushed forward
on passions temporary fuel
hitting the first bump,
soon to be trapped in a cycle
of blissful agony,
like new life growing only to wilt
in the unceasing cold to come.

But, as a dead flower leaves a seed,
So did we leave scars,
that tells a tale to carry each of us
with the other as we move on.
Perhaps,
A lesson learned or a wound
to be examined on colder days,
that like the markers along
a journey
guides us going forward.

So as dents display the wisdom our once
fresh bodies did develope on our trip,

We learned to seek out bumps to avoid
and though we drive different roads
In opposite seasons,
peace floods me as
the passing road markers
down memory lane become
like the grave stone on that forking road
where I layed each wilted petal
of the flower on the dash
to rest along the road on that autumn trip.
Love like a fresh flower on the dash of ones first car, where freedom is found, wilts in the sun as we drive forward on our paths, someday we may pull over in a beautiful field and pick a new flower after the petals from our first love have completely fallen off and we are ready to lay then go rest in an unmarked grave
Sep 2019 · 113
What are the odds
William de klerk Sep 2019
Some strange arrangement
of molecules would make me?
When I am nothing more
than a temporary ripple in time and space
Just flickering impulses that,
allow me to perceive my
place.
Simply a mass of messy wires
swimming in a cocktail of chemicals
that accounts for all I feel?

So I say, can science explain:
The depths of a poets words,
the burning desire for artists to
explode color into stationary life,
or the soulful dance of a melody merging
with ones very being?

Yes, well then

What of the hidden glimmer of life
sparkling in each creation's eyes?
What of the realms of things unseen
and so often only felt
for the faintest moments?

Would recycled carbon on its own,
that has drifted for eons, somehow
rearrange to form life?
Would billions of chaotically
                                    colliding particles
embrace so harmoniously that
the overly comedic conditions for life
would so seamlessly come together
that at this very moment
you and I,
two beings of impossible odds
could have our paths combine
that I could write these words
that they could wander there way to you
Sep 2019 · 277
Hour glass
William de klerk Sep 2019
Call it a necklace, noose, lead or leash
that we willfully wear
as under the poke and ****
of societies brand we still let it steer.

Living for Friday Saturday and *Sinday
throwing rain at the clouds
while we let time trickle away wastefully
out the hour Glass.

But when going against the grain
is like running into a sand storm,
we would rather let the days die
like they weren't worth remembering

Like a vapour, memories fade away
In a clumping mass of evaporating
                                                     ­      grey

                                  Then

call me a fool for standing in a sand storm
traping trickling time
in the hour glass
faster than it falls as I make
Many more colorful memories.

Gaze as I turn the dam ocean upside down
Repouring the rain I caught into the clouds
As I burn the tie
fray the noose
   loosen the lead
leave the leash round societies neck
And I burn it with my own brand.
Time is valuable, so don't let others and their ideas or expectations steal your time, don't live a nine to five life, each day is a colorful memory to be made.
Sep 2019 · 239
Forgotten tales of old
William de klerk Sep 2019
As Atlas attempted to seize the heavens
he learned to bare the weight of the world.
Such is the cruel fate
of love to scorn turned.

And what of all the legends of old,
of hero's tales from bronze to gold.
Why instead of stone statues
are cement hearts held
in every man's chest
while we lay old stories to rest?

The songs of sirens
swapped for plastic promises,
Heads of hydras
exchanged for two faced friends
as our magic morphs to cheap tricks,
all that managed to remain
Is an Achilles heel for sincerity

So when two souls like worlds collide
and create a place of bliss,
too often one bares the weight
of both worlds, with the burden
of unrelenting loss.
William de klerk Sep 2019
The light in my eyes burns low
as the gateway to my soul starts to suffocate
like a candles feint flicker fading away.
This leaky heart drips drops of hope
through a slow draining sieve,
with warmth escaping ,
cold like a cunning trickster
slowly starves this depleted vessel
of all sensation.


Living only to steal shallow breaths
for fear of the greedy hand of rot
that has pillaged my wilting will
that like a running wound oozes life.

This I would still prefer to your "love"
that repeatedly left me lifeless and limp
cowering behind high walls of stone
mending shredded flesh in secret
In self imposed shackles,
far too tight,
constantly cutting
into bruised wrists.

So I longingly look at those outside
while I am so lost inside myself,
hoping someone, somehow
penetrates this prison
of isolation
soon

As my grip starts to slip I look down
at the haunting black beneath
where I was once consumed,
where I am afraid to fall again
from where I still haven't healed.

Drawing a dead man's last breath
I'm unafraid in defiance of death.
I let my vice fail, to embrace the abyss.
As absolute black washes over me
in it's powerful pull I begin to drown,
while my weighty corpse starts to sink

The last of my air bubbles away
with empty eyes
And nothing to say
  the wounds that wash an ocean red,
are the reason I will wind up dead
Sep 2019 · 157
Mask of a monster
William de klerk Sep 2019
Betrothed to the beast,
but "warned tirelessly."
Still, she cared for the monster
he was made out to be.
With a fear filling façade he repels those
with tongues like pitchforks
and words of cleansing fire

She would tend to the wounds inflicted
upon his disfigured face, and in his arms
she was shielded and safe,
working to pry apart the scaly armor
burnt into his blackened skin.

Yet over time as his skin began to soften
so did she sharpen a hidden blade,
and one fateful night
She stabbed down deep
into his bare back
sadistically watching as he bled unrelentingly.
She fished 'round his oozing chest
and pulled out a prized heart to present.

And so she returned to the  very sooth sayers
who warned her covered in red
as a monster whos enchanting mask
proved far more fatal and grotesque
than the beast she did betray.
The hardest exteriors hide the softest hearts, and the prettiest faces have the deadliest intentions , so beware.
Sep 2019 · 111
Voices pt 2
William de klerk Sep 2019
Stab a serotonin syringe in my brain stem
          So I play my music louder to ignore them,
          they take turns handling the hatchet
                 as they break my body to bits.

" THEY'RE ALL WHISPERING ABOUT YOU,
WHY ELSE WONT THEY LOOK AT YOU?
  WASTE OF SPACE ****** CASE,
YOUR FRIENDS ARE FAKE
  AND THEY NEED A BREAK
FROM A FREAK LIKE YOU "

                          " Just Stay Inside And Sleep
                              So She Won't Reject You,
          Don't Be Afraid Of The razor blade,
                                  Wounds Will Heal,
                          Don't You Just Wanna Feel...
                                           Something"

" Ha, trying to steel that temper?
    Doesn't your blood boil
       When you see her with him?
You wanna watch him pick up his teeth
            So succumb to the bitterness
                That boils beneath the surface "

            "  maybe things won't be that bad    
     you didn't always hate what you have,
                                               so fake a smile
                     'til it lights up like the embers
                 from the fire that used to burn.
    i remember when i didn't speak in turn
                            when i was the loudest
                        not shrouded in darkness
                                         so i patiently wait
for you to hear my soft song once more.

 After they pillaged my sanity with pills
            And all the voices vanished,
             Left here alone in my mind
      So sedated the surrounding silence
        Contaminates my consciousness
    As I slowly slip into soundless agony.
This is written from the perspective of the major voices that play in my head in a given day, with the loudest voices first and silence at the end.
Sep 2019 · 128
Slowly sinking
William de klerk Sep 2019
Isolation slowly starves away a man's mind
gnawing away at what he holds dear
the flooding room fills as he gasps for breath
praying for a pocket deeper down
he sinks to the darker depths
In his chest sharp blades writh like snakes
his heart beat thuds like a heavy hammer
relentlessly ringing in his ears
pulsating pressure like a serpents coil
crushes cracks and breaks his brittle body
only the pain prevents him from drifting
a hazy blur blackens his vision
as silently his screams bubble away
In one more breath his futile fight
finishes.

When suddenly a deathly peace penetrates
like the shock after a plunge into an icy pool
as a feint flicker of light shines
he drifts towards his final hope
I tried to write this with a dual ending, the light he sees is either the surface as he re-emerges or the light before death.
Sep 2019 · 257
Dysfunctional love
William de klerk Sep 2019
Maybe I should've stayed sober
when you came over
and the lines, walls and words
started to blur,
but in that short skirt that works so well
you had your hand under my shirt
and those evil eyes  that excite  
,unafraid of hurt, that night
someone paid the price

We befriended a bottle for a three day ******
and a sledgehammer hangover had my
brain in the blender
   waving a white straight jacket
in surrender

We'd wake up to a mirrors shameful stare
Mixing love and lust without a care.
In some sort of sinful cocktail,
each and every time our wills would fail
some small part of my broken heart
would merge with hers
as we pretended to be whole,
I let passion poison my soul.

We'd Dance in a drugged induced stupor,
imagining a false future together
so I said that I loved her,
But
when drugs wore down we fell to the ground
Sweet lies started our slow demise.

She'd say she was fine but I'd find her in tears.
So I held her in my arms while I couldn't feel,
but after being so numb, nothing felt real.
Then she begged me to share
just to show that I care.
So i said it was better to lock myself away
For fear of the words that I needed say

The two years together instead of forever
As you shredded my head apart
And I spitefully tore out your heart.
When we were close
we'd corrode and corrupt
and from a far
we'd suffer in silence

In your pain you fell for someone else,
forcing me to smile while I rot away in side
But,
Tired of passing round the disease that was Blame.
I severed you from my mind and heart
and separately we slowly fell apart.

On the verge of death with a fist
clenching poison
and our body barely breathing we were
Self sabotaging star crossed lovers
with a semi fatal ending
Sep 2019 · 136
Weapon of words
William de klerk Sep 2019
In my hand I hold a ****** pen
repeatedly staked
into my hole ridden heart.
-As I write walls around my mind,
I am locked so far away
from the scolding stares
of ignorant eyes.
I mark the trail of my escape by
Silently bleeding ink across the canvas,
that is my written world.

In my shaking hand I hold a pen,
A sword secretly unsheathed each night
To resist  the unrelenting
demons that dance in the depths of my mind.
Afraid to succumb to sleep
for the fight to seize a soul so shattered
that it longer swings, slashes and stabs
at the black hands holding down
the broken body
desperate for demented thoughts to dissipate.

In my hands I no longer hold a pen,
as out the throat that screams
of a self fulfilling prophesy of pain
protrudes a pen,
and as only silence survives
an empty shell stares back,
haunted by what I've done
longingly gazing at the light far above
as I crawl out the  black pit
I willingly plunged into
for the last time.
Sometimes writing is an escape, other times it takes you to the deepest part of your mind that you fear, and sometimes it's the strength needed to break free from the hold of the darkest parts of your life.
Aug 2019 · 352
The propaganda machine
William de klerk Aug 2019
If metal music racket and a straight jacket
can clog the corporations cogs,
then unemployable bleach blond anarchists turning white coats into black cloaks
is when  tattoos and pierced ears
become a parents worst fears.

We walk with untucked shirts and short skirts, wearing  a students mask
I hide a whiskey flask
in a blue blazer pocket  
knowing  dam well they can't stop it
if I walk with a lit cigarette in the parking lot past a parent, it's inherent that since they can't beat us anymore we won't join them.

But I'm not scared.

Because their clone army won't harm me.
Just like the microwave rays the crazies raved on about in the good old days
when disco was king and Justin didn't sing,
back when ADHD wasn't real,
and depression was just no big deal.


So call me a student psychopath armed with a devilish laugh as i bounce round a rubber room in a tin foil hat
refusing to be the systems lab rat.
So they call me a rebel as I lay back in revel watching the rabbit hole unfold
as a thousand sheep break the mold
that the man made when red writing atop a page became how we wage a child's worth.



So the sheep that march through the flames
immerge adorning robes of rebellion,
as the sounds of so many chains severed symphonies through the generation
marking many young minds escaping the confines society's shoved down indoctrinated throats.
Aug 2019 · 206
Conscious corpse
William de klerk Aug 2019
A conscious corpse gently thuds as is sustains with but a few precious sips of air to delay it's deteriorating state.

Which words proved too fatal?
Those too often written by loved ones across already cold and clammy skin?
Where a sick smile did mar deaths boastful grin.

Or?
Were black words penned bleeding red why it seems so eternally condemned
to dance 'round with darkness in the festering ground to surrender its sanity in an unmarked grave

No!
What proved too fatal, too deep
we're those words etched into bone
that were completely it's own.
It's own plague of pestilence
that seeped from self-carved scars
that mutilated more than flesh


But, Why did you only bare witness to a souls  lonely demise
observing the light leave through it's slowly emptying eyes

So now I ask you!
Was it  not your lifeless embrace that did erase
a once quickened flame that suffocated in sorrow.

Are you not to blame?
for the blood red stain
soaked into that cold clammy skin.

Do you not feel remorse that HIS condemned soul now sleeps on your calloused heart
                           without end...

and while you bare the weight of HIS peace
isn't it you that  now becomes
the conscious corpse breathing in only
shallow sips of precious air,
looking on with newly empty eyes
for the warm embrace you yourseld did deny.
Aug 2019 · 230
First love
William de klerk Aug 2019
Rapunzel I confess.

That I made a mess, of more than your hair.
That all I ever did was....wrong and unfair
  That I couldn't show you, I  did care
    
             Rapunzel, I'm too tired to fight.

But I watched you each night
as you slept
In the dark you were my light
which I failed to protect
With a harming hand
i became the reason you wept.

                    
            Rapunzel I'll never forget

How we shared your first cigarette
How i am forever in your debt
But I'll never regret that you were my first....
       Kiss,
         Love,
             And...
This is something I discovered a year after a wrote it in my drafts , long after my heart did break
Aug 2019 · 113
Death's stare
William de klerk Aug 2019
Living red writing drips
like the tears of my wounds.
as the room rotates rapidly
silence suffocates my spinning tomb.

Hopelessly i cling at straws
only finding pencils
as I drown in this page.

my ice cold corpse cracks  
as my eyes fill with feint flames,  
and a ghoulish grin masks a grim gaze,
as I set my sights on deaths empty eyes
I issued a defiant challenge, daring him
to try take this tormented teen.

Did he flinch!
Or
was it a fallacy, formed from
My own measure of madness?
Normally I would give some sort of explination, but this one I'll purposely leave up to you
Jul 2019 · 612
Voices
William de klerk Jul 2019
With white knuckles wrapped round a wheel
, while I start to steer in a senseless stupor
, so I slowly start  to sink into my subconscious mind.

There I find I'm So sick of silence, that
In a demented dance with my own demons
I ask them why I won't let go of what once was.

"You drink the poison with a passion
, blurring the lines of punishment and pain
So only self hate can remain"

So secretly I shun what I wish to say so
the vestiges of  my valour can rot away in vain,
Like the living corpse that's left with
long lasting lashes as battle scars
I bare as a badge for the broken.

So in fear I flee the tormenting truth
That I now have to hear
As soon it is clear
My own web of lies led me down a road
of Slow and Selfish Demise.
This is the voice of regret acting in ones head when a person is blinded by all that makes them flawed and imperfect, instead of focusing on the good. This is insecurities personified as demented voices that demand you punish yourself.
Jun 2019 · 186
Anabiosis
William de klerk Jun 2019
his smile became an imitation
of what it once was.
Distorted into a framed display
to serve as his shield.
With his hooded facade he leans his back against the wall
for fear of what others would say behind it
as Resent festers in his heart
like a Sickness Slowly Seeping
into his Somber soul.

Yet, it has always been her alluring smile
that eased his heavy heart.
It has always been the softness of her voice
and her delicate touch
that broke down the barricades built out of fear.
Soon he to took on a softness that revived
a glimmer of
a smile that once was.

As His heart began to heal she showed Him
a place of Love.
No longer alone amidst a mass of "friends"
resentment replaced with Surrender
,sickness shifted to Strength.
While a somber soul starts to smile
with a Joy greater than it's ever known

M.O.I
This is a story of how I was alone in the world and how I was lead to a better place that remained long after the people I had lost, who had brought me there.
Apr 2019 · 192
Puzzle pieces
William de klerk Apr 2019
For my tears that we're shead in secret
This is what I say
I am not weak
For Having a Heart way
                                Heavily on me
Each and Every day.

AND
I am NOT ashamed that who I lost
Holds some of What We Were
Even if...
For now ...
The piece of them I posses
only wounds me
Deeply.

YET
I am not sorry I did not guard my heart
For even though I lost a great deal

I will remember and carry you with me
and slowly...
                  I Will Heal.

So let Me Morn Who We Were
And someday, should I look back
at what I once loved

Know,  that now the piece I possess
fits into a puzzle that depicts
Who I Have Become
We all lose at some stage, but we never forget. Let those you once loved show the progress you have made
Feb 2019 · 134
Sleep
William de klerk Feb 2019
Release, like any poison brings both euphoria and
self shattering shame

constantly bordering between
shackles
and freedom,
He invites numbness
to slowly swallow His sanity
til He finds comfort in His cage.

As He Willingly
Dives
         Deeper
Into a
Sensless Stupor

This sickness steals with hungry hands
while his soul slowly starves.
Through a teary ghoulish gaze of glass
he looks at an absent face.

his mind contorts and twists in
writhing agony
as simple seconds span eternities
and days merge as mere moments.

his silent screams to be saved slowly start to fade like a flickering candle surrendering to the cruel Darkness.

the last of the glistening light reflecting from
his empty eyes dimly shines
as his heavy head falls
and he surcomes to slumber
.
Jul 2018 · 117
Addicted to fucking up
William de klerk Jul 2018
He lifts his shirt and starts to cry,
    When he sees what he did
       just to get bye.
        

So if a Scar tells a Story,
he never wrote a lie.


Just one more drink,
One more high
                                             Im fine, its ok

His 'control'          was just a lie
As he starts to bleed
as he wants to die

He realizes


Addiction is his only friend
      Now he's on the egde
IT walked him to the end
of a comforting  ledge
            and whispered
                  
        Jump




M. O. I
May 2018 · 217
....
William de klerk May 2018
Self hidden hatred has held you like a cold crushing coil. Words of preached poison serve as sharp slicing scales that open your kind caring soul.

Temporary love and happiness act as false friends wrapping round a caring noose. Calling it a comforting embrace that promises to rock you to sleep as you swing

Your eyes slowly seal like the tomb you wish would grant you rest.
but listen closely, your so starved you can hear the hazy whisper of hope echoing in the silent sepulchre.

The salvaged remnants of strength from your painful past merge. The rock to all is sculpted by blows and bashes and carved by scares of caring and you wear so many proud scars.

So stand and slay the slithering snake, fray the false friend’s noose and hear hopes hazy whisper my strong caring kind friend
I love you man , i’M sorry this happened man
May 2018 · 214
Grave
William de klerk May 2018
I am tirelessly tormented by black thoughts that mercilessly mock
shame and scar my broken body.

My worked worn bones bend
as I will my bruised body to rise on shattered limping legs.

I’m forced to lift myself off the cold cruel ground once more.

I climb out the grave that
I
decided to dig.
While a dark hazed figure tries to bury me alive

I see the cold shaking hands of insecurity shrouded in a dark cloak standing by my side

As we look over the pit I escaped.

I intentionally let a sadistic smile slip. Laughing with an unwavering stare.

I grabbed his  old steel shovel
and filled my grave

M.O.I
Apr 2018 · 224
I Can’t
William de klerk Apr 2018
I imagine I’M writing in Red.
I imagine I pulled this pen from
My Heart
like a sword from stone
and that my feelings
Bleed onto this page.

I hold my breath and I pretend.
           I pretend
That I am NOT drowning
       In these...feelings?
and I Pretend that I have gills
instead of scars ‘round my neck.

And ... I try , I REALLY try
to keep these hands steady
as I recklessly collect these fragments
of myself
But these sharp edges cut deep

and i try to see with tears in my eyes

BUT I CAN’T
       IMAGINE
              PRETEND
                   OR TRY
not any more.
because i can’t
hold on, forgive , or forget

All I can do is lift this pen
write
Then stick my hole ridden heart
one more time.

-M.O.I
I feel shattered , tired, and hopeless. Lately it just seems like if I don’t pretend things are ok I will fall apart. If I don’t try I will not fix my problems, but somethings are not worth fixing. You might just cut yourself in the process
Apr 2018 · 291
Mistaken happiness
William de klerk Apr 2018
Happiness vibrates in my chest
and echos down my spine.
Thousands of tiny electric shocks
Excite my bones,
as My heart beats faster and louder
than My tapping foot.

My chest is tight , like a fierce embrace.
My mind buzzes like a confused crowd
as My focus shatters like the plate
I dropped

Tong tied and speechless.
Out of joy I collapse
My excited bones
       Give out
                        Underneath Me
My tied tongue spouts mumbled riddles
While My brain beats against the side of
My skull.

My tapping heart inflates
My veins like a balloon
i’M Locked away in my body
Limp and Scared

I scream out...
       I am still here
The voice rattles in my mind
as I remain silent

Held hostage with a plastic smile
Fading slowly into unconsciousness
I let go
Comatose

-M.O.I
This is the description of my first stroke like event when I was 16. My mind was scattered and I was trapped in a mumbling lost state. My entire body exploded in a sensation that’s very similar to holding onto an electric fense.
Apr 2018 · 600
Desperation
William de klerk Apr 2018
Let me set fire to the tip of my pencil
And use it as a candle
To light this dark room.

Let the fuel I pour
Be the very writing
That burns me
So I don’t have to close my eyes.

Let the torch I hold that scares
The monster lurking in my mind
Warm my cold thoughts.

As I hold my breath and sink
In a room filling with water.

The price of warmth ...
                  Is the little air I have left.

Please don’t leave me
In this cold dark room
With hope extinguished.

So I claw at a locked door
With a burning piece of wood
As I slowly drown in a cold dark room.

Trapped in here
With myself.

-M.O.I
Sometimes we lock ourselves away in our thoughts . We become so lost we are desperate not to be trapped alone with our own dispair. This feeling is suffocating and you cling to anything to stay afloat. The straw I chose to grab at is poetry
Mar 2018 · 373
Pen and paper
William de klerk Mar 2018
If pen and paper should serve as sword and shield.
I would willfully wound those
with lashing tongues
as a knight to those without ink.

I would pass down my pen
through generations
filling countless books
with bitter truths.

I would tell a thousand stories
of beauty and wonder
in my written world

and mend mind and soul
in cursive letters to my loved ones.
that only they can read.

But a pen is a double sided sword
that writes in fading letters
leaving space to fill false truths

What of the history
in languages lost long ago
that’s rewritten by the victors ?

And the books burned because of ignorance?

Propaganda and lies
Spread
like plagues in our history books.

The pages become stained
by the blood of those written out.

So when we pick up our pen
and write to make others bleed
they do bleed ,
nearly as much as the hand we write with

-M.O.I
We can write to do good, and to help others. Sometimes we don’t see that things are written from a point of view . To the writer it maybe be correct , but to another side it could be unjust. The history we learn shows this perfectly.
Mar 2018 · 196
Standing up again
William de klerk Mar 2018
It’s time for me to hold my head high
As I wave to my demons and say goodbye
I’M finally winning a long fought fight
I will never let go of this light.

The weight that pushes me down
Is’nt enough to make me drown
I’M found anew with a better purpose
I’M stronger now and swim to the surface

The dark days still trail behind me
That is something people can see
But it’s time that I start to heal
Because it’s ok for me to feel

It might become a type of grey
That I will have to keep at bay
But
LISTEN
to me when I say
I will keep the black away

Now I have a clear sight
Of all the colors I invite
I lift myself to a
NEW height

Everything will be alright

-M.O.I
Sometimes we need a little help to stand back up. This site , that I check 100 times a day was filled with people that would read my poems and tell me to hang on and to get help. Just expressing myself has given me hope.
Mar 2018 · 503
I Blame Myself
William de klerk Mar 2018
You’ve mastered the act
You’ve turned off emotions
Now everything’s black

I am truly sorry
I slowly grow colder
It’s always my fault
She breaks when I hold her

He’s bitter and angry
There’s pain in his eyes
He bleeds from his struggle
His will slowly dies

There’s things I’ve done
The things I regret
The problems I caused
I won’t easily forget

But i’M nowhere near perfect
And neither are you
Let’s all hurt each other
I’ve lost you two

-M.O.I
It’s easy to blame yourself when you think you weren’t good enough to save other people. At first I placed that burden on myself , but when I failed, I never stood back up. That’s what I regret. I lost two friends , that I won’t forget. I really miss them.
Mar 2018 · 627
Lost
William de klerk Mar 2018
my mind is a chaotic maze
guarded by confusion.
Lost in the labyrinth.

it’s too dark
i can’t see.
i’m trapped in this sick
sick place.

Sanity is slipping.
Thoughts that haunt me slide
into my unconscious mind.

i havnt slept in days

Please
someone, anyone
pull me from the edge.
i stare into the abyss
ready to jump.

i’m being chased
by the demons in
my mind.
They torture, torment
and tease by dangling my sanity
by a Thin
Thin thread.

my mind is
recklessly running ‘round rampant.
and swiftly shifting sideways
then twisting, turning and tilting
like a convulsing snake

The voices in my head scream
So loud
They block my calls for help.

Will i ever escape?
                                                      i’m­ so lost
no one is looking
because
i’m right in front of you
but
I
am still Lost

-m.o.i
Being plagued by dark thoughts that arnt yours feels like being trapped in a black cell in your mind. You can’t escape but your lost and can’t find your way back. You feel so alone.
Mar 2018 · 185
ITS not EASY
William de klerk Mar 2018
Loving yourself
    Is not
                    An option
Right?

Because it’s easy
To hide behind someone’s shadow.
To blame yourself
And blend in.

Was despair so heavy it broke your legs?
Is hope a faulty crutch?
Just like the “friends”
That are a thin plastic net?

Did the hurt make you lose your voice?
In the silence
Did they take your strength
Because it was easy?

So stand up with your broken leg
And limp out of their shadow.
Let your screams be the voice
That separates you from the crowd

Because you are strong ,
Worth loving
  And...
                                 your NOT leaving.
Because Life is worth living
So keep breathing

Even when it’s not easy

-M.O.I
When you hate yourself, blame yourself or lose yourself to dispair , you fall into silence. People can take your opinions and strengths and crush them when you don’t speak.
Mar 2018 · 150
Thought
William de klerk Mar 2018
With  a stuttering shacking hand
that is also my voice
I write in absolute silence, my voice is
Hidden.
We think of thoughts so deep
We never stop sinking...
A pen
becomes a paddle , and a book a boat.
And I write myself away
Over a an ocean of thought

So I don’t drown...

-M.O.I
It’s easy to dig to deep into thought and lose the beauty around you. Your thoughts can consume you and burden you , but if we write we can escape.
Mar 2018 · 217
The dark
William de klerk Mar 2018
A black mind is an infectious shadow.
It creeps and crawls to cover the light.
You suffocate
because nothing grows in the dark.

Your broken black heart spreads
Like the disease it is.
Your presence is cold
and your heart is full of rot.

No light illuminates your endless dark pit
That consumes everything
Eternally empty
You fall in but limp and crawl out

THESE people are just a void
THEY take and use
So do go, go into the light
Where you can see what they are

-M.O.I
We all need to recognize the void in people can’t always be filled. Don’t fall in or become consumed. Broken hearts break others , don’t let that be YOU.
Mar 2018 · 146
i’M without depth
William de klerk Mar 2018
Inconsistent shifting sand
burns beneath my feet.
I don’t know where I stand
surrounded by miles of desert.

Only walking on the surface
where everything is the same.
Only the oasis lets me
sink.

but we are a scorching sun
That evaporates
Making us too scared to
sink
Too scared to
      think.

We harden and bake the topsoil.
No wonder we can’t dig deeper
to the water beneath

we are all dying of thirst.

-M.O.I
Today people are too scared to be personal , nobody wants to have anything genuine. Artificial and superficial motives and intentions are all that’s left .people can be fake and change there personality. Things constantly shift and change

— The End —