I want the world,
But I am entitled to none.

Every minute is a century,
When I can't fall asleep.

Evasive peace.
Please...

It's getting hard to breathe...


Stop.
Breathe.
Hold.
It's going to be okay.


Sleep

Forever unending time scribes inside my mind the lies and self attrition,
Eating, chewing away.

Through to the day,  my dues I pay,
And forever unending time remains.

Besieged is he that breathes to thee.
Laying in his lonely steppe.
Battered, shattered, but somehow remained a whole.

To my mind, designed by he unknown,
I silently sing and pleade,
Peace,  please.
Just let me sleep.

~Robert van Lingen

Mental heart at rest,
At rest...

At best,
I must arrest my restless mind to slog through the rest of today.

At Rest.
At rest,
Birds nest of anxieties...
Come to rest.

SILENCE!

insolent mind.

Be, at rest.

There are a lot of answers I want,
But no questions I'm willing to ask.

There are a lot of things I want to say,
But none that I will.





The painful restraints shackle my wrists,
Yet I accept them with glee.

For the first time, I understand,
Some words lay better unsaid.

Some questions,
Better unasked.

To this moment I restrain myself,
Not in reluctance.

To this moment,
I learn the truth of patience.

To this memory,
I hold my tongue to not taint the skies that sail behind me.

To this one,
I stay my mind,

To save you the pain.

~Robert van Lingen

At a glance,
The Circumstance advances the feeling.
I take my stance,
With yet a glance in the other direction,

Enhanced by my retrospect,
With respect to the other.

I sit quietly in my introversion.
All while I build my newer version,
Averted to the adversions of the life I quietly observe.

Here I am.

~Robert van Lingen

To my heart I write these words,
Spare me from my sickness,
Unchain me from my shackles.

I walk only because I must,
Not yet for myself.
There are good days,
There are bad.

It's sad to see myself in such a state,
When my efforts reap little reward.

Today, once again, I find myself asking why,
Why?

Who knows.
I do my best to restrain myself from my own fires,
And still they burn,
But not as the flames in your candle, no.
They burn with a searing, slow, and silent heat.

My stomach churns at the thought of this lasting forever.

Reprieve me of my prisonous mind.
I would love to love myself, and yet I try,

And yet I falter.

Why do I hold myself to such perfectious standard?

I bear the standard of the anxious and depressed, meanwhile no one knows how to listen for the silent cries that even I speak unawares.

I tear my own heart asunder, but why?

The silent disease with no cure.
The infection that cannot be understood due to its silence.

So how are we to solve this puzzle?
Where none of the pieces fit?

Solve the riddle unspoken.

~Robert van Lingen

Who are you?

What is this?

What is happening?

Grappling with my defenses as I slip into despair and confusion, comatose.

Just as I feel all is well,

The gentle swells turn to tsunami,

Crash upon my shores.

The moors sink into the unrelenting waves.

I see you and I cry inside.

Why?

I don't know.

The mere sight of you still shakes me to my bones,

As I sink and drown I watch you float past in your bliss,

Sail past me, unawares.

Somebody save me...

~Robert van Lingen

I choose to bear openly,
My scars.
As a reminder of where I once was,
But am no longer.

A Memory's catharsis returns me to where I was lost.

I once was lost,
And now I am grounded,
Rooted in my mind.
With but the flower petals of a broken past.

Chicken Scratch,
chicken scratch,

   Scribbles, smashed against the page.

You are my Poem.

~Robert van Lingen

I caught myself peering through the haze,
Weary of the dark,

The dull glaze of my mirror silently stares back,
From the black, I speak tales of the maze of my mind,
I find, till yet this day has failed to share the  unrequited love for myself,
For my sense of self, I delve into the skies,

The dull shine, just over there,
The longer I stare, It just becomes stranger,
Which one is me? Which one is real?

Am I the reflection? Or am I the stranger?

~Robert van Lingen

Little whispers in my ear,
Strike as silent screams,
My heart the amplifier.

Speak to me and I shall find meaning you can't understand.
Scream to me,
All I hear is death in my ears.

A gentle whisper,
A harmless little ripple,
Perpetuates in my torrid waters,
Becometh my reaper grim.

Your little words,
Whisper to me as I drown in the shallows.

~Robert van Lingen

The deep songs sing to me,

Inside the mind the notes stride across seas of strings,
Strumming away,

The bellows feed my fires as well they fill my heart with the thunders alight.

I speak not yet,
I scribe my songs to thee, as to myself,
I sing songs upon my piano strings,

I speak not, yet,
I am fluent in Silence.

~Robert van Lingen

Tap the keys to ease my restless smile,
Shut the mind's eyes and let the strifes melt away.

Peace, my old friend,
Come visit me again,
Your keys hidden in Song.
Opened,
Hoping to hear you every now and again.

~Robert van Lingen

Dry,
Stale,
Pale in comparison to a heart dancing in tune,

Waltz to the songs my memories play,
Stand in the hand that plucks my strings,

Sing to me, Sing to me,
Your Siren Song

~Robert van Lingen

Lights out,
Sleep child,
sleep.

You're only dreaming.

     There are no monsters under the bed.

~

They are in my head.
Unimaginary,
wreaking havoc.

Pillage my heart

~

Sleep away your pains,
  or never wake up.

You've been asleep all along.

He.llo
The Days:
Tearing by,
It's? Terrifying. Me.

Everything; IT'S all just moving too fast...
"Wearing," My hearts on my knees,
Just* waiting for me to fall upon them.

it's all just happening far too quickly,
slow my everything.

Good.Bye

I miss terribly,
The feeling of being in love,

The ecstasy,
Expecting to breathe life into,
The leagues of my indulgent seas.

The days and nights that sway a life,
To and fore, aft of the rising breeze.
Seeing as we may only stand here for a moment.

Apt to the expectant themes,
Preening the weathered feathers that have flown me away,
and yet home again,

But still I miss it so.

The days that splay out my heart,
Like knives,
Cut apart.

In the grips,
Of a stronger wave,
In my abstract heart.

I stretch for the quay,
The sweet release,
Yet I watch myself depart.

Suffocate,
Choking on love,
Pick me piece from peace,

And smother me.

~Robert van Lingen

Tryin to be independent of the venom inside my head,
This isn't dead though,
My eyes are red so,
I'm reaching the pinnacle,
Reading into the syllables,
Inside my head,
That want me dead,
But I'm not ready yet,
So I'll just say no to the infected perception of the world around me,
So,

Just relax,
Here I am.
Just look in the mirror,
Smile,
And jump in.

The water is cold and unforgiving,
The product of being so lost and feeling so
Dark, alone, but I'm never quitting, so,

Hold on and don't let go,
It's gonna be hard,
But don't let your feeling show,
How scared you are,
To feel the scars,
and free the arts,
of the real,
person you are.

Just show them,
You'll never give up,
Just feel the love,
and let it grow,
So,

Be who you are,
and don't forget,
when things are hard,
Just stare at the stars.

~Robert van Lingen

The world doesn't owe you a **** thing. Hard work doesn't entitle you to a better life, neither does lineage, money or otherwise.

You aren't entitled to ANYthing.
Some people get more than they "deserve".
Other people get less.

"Deserving" is a manufactured concept to allow us to pity ourselves when we acquire less of a good thing or more of a bad thing than we expected.

When something bad happens to you, you didn't deserve it.
When something amazing happens to you, you didn't deserve it.

Our very existence is a gift, and saying we deserve anything more than to be alive is purely arrogant. Be thankful for every drop of water, every grain of sand, and every speck of dust you have because one day, you may not have those anymore. So cherish the ones who you love, because one day, they may no longer be there either.

Hearts beat so softly when struck a blow from love,

Skipping their unbreakable beating,
Pumping away the times that fall behind us.

Our Softest hearts are,
Our Strongest ones.

The hearts that aren't afraid to cry,
Are the hearts,
That will never die.




~Robert van Lingen

A twist,
A burn,
Drown, you say?

Shall I spray these letters on the page for you to read?
May I display the writhing writes that within I keep?

I slash the pen against the inside of my skull,
To write my stories...

We call this,
a poem.

but does that make me,
the poet?

Retrospect.
The dangerous game,
I play for pinks,
With sanity in the stakes.

Royal Flush,
My house is full of jokers.

Brokered a deal with the thoughts who spoke whisper'd cutthroat scenes.

Intraspect:
Everyone is perfect.
Except for me.

With me I bring the ashes of my past,
At long last do I see what lies before me.
So I breathe...











My creed,
To believe,
To release the ashes from my hands,

To my knees,
As the lonely tear flows aside my eyes I say,

Steadfast, I stand before time Unknown.

~Robert van Lingen

With every stone you throw,
and my blood as mortar,

I will build my tower to the heavens.

Stopgap.
emotional stocks wrapped with paper wings,
which burst'd into inferno at the first broken sight of spring.

Baseless transition into faceless thoughts,
Caught in webs of speechless dreams,
laced with poison's tasteless lessons taught.

Stop that.
Think back,
at the wasted scenes graced with cold embrace.
Winter's faces breathe,

Lies stand by your faithless eyes.
instead.
dream,
of flame-less skies.

Stop the gap in nature's lap,
and sit upon her shoulders.
See the skies that breathe your sighs of reprieve,
nigh your dreams seized with whisper'd echos breeze.
Set them free...

p.s.,
you may already be.
but beware.
hopeless eyes are doomed to live with lies, disguised by strife's hypnosis,
ensnared by defeatist blight.

Love is a Summer's Rain
Step through my lonely storm
Here I am once again


~Robert van Lingen

The silent war between lovers' lines,
In the midst of endless time,
I find nigh, I am high,

To the core, in my endless mind,
The kind of hearts, that pry and pry,

Curses shouted to the wind,
Verses, written to the page,

A fast, and slow calling, just barely out of reach.
Touch my fingertips and look into my eyes,
As I slip, and fly away.

~Robert van Lingen

Hello, again.
He who whispers my name when I'm alone.
Hello again,
Cold winters' breath.
Cold splinters' kept...

Who are you to strip from me everything I love?
In every joy, you follow close behind to let me have a taste, only
to wrench from me my only wish, my reason, my rhyme,
function, and goal.

Only you can make hell burn hotter,
Take my mother and I will cry,
Take my love and I will fall,
Take my friends?

You spit in my face at every turn,
Kick my heels on every step and stride.
You utter into my ears your sadistic songs.

To you I say,
Go to hell,
I'll keep on walking.

~Robert van Lingen

Peace, my steel-eyed friend,
You are ever present,
Yet eternally elusive.

Devilishly tugging away at my silken heartstrings,
You play,
Tease my fragile soul.

Returned to worsened thoughts,
Caught in the spiderwebs of restlessness.
Inchworm caught in the trap.
Presuming its imminent demise.

Toothless dogs of emotional wars fought on the daily,
Screaming in my broken ears,
about how little this all means.

Heat-soaked heart drowning in my anxiety's waste products,
just looking for some direction,
someone to mention my name,
in just a positive way.
perhaps I'm deaf,
so please speak up.

I can't even hear,
my own cries of fear,
so please speak up.
I want to see,
that is what I mean,
is more than nothing.
Please?

You asked for the truth,
I offered, yet I am graced with silence.

This isn't a battle, yet somehow I'm losing.
This isn't a war, but I am still defeated.

This wasn't a fight.
T'was a slaughter.

A senseless homicide of a friendship that I don't think I could ever understand.

I will not be the mannequin for you to unload upon your confused attacks,

I do forgive you though.

I bear no grudge,
I hold no anger.

My role in this play is now,
To patiently wait for your truth.
Even if it will never arrive.

Ten thoughts to ten more,
One leads to another,

Ten thoughts to a hundred more,
I wage this anxious war,

One falls for a thousand to rise,
Hundreds break rank and spawn ten thousand more,

Ten thoughts to ten more.

~Robert van Lingen

In this new,
internal extrospection,
my out-of heart experience.

I realize who I've been,
what I've seen,
and how I've made myself bleed,
and others too...

I am Sorrowful.
I am thankful.
I am in pain.
I am hopeful.

Flooded by invisible tears and searing pain at the same time,
and even a hidden happiness,

I won't pretend to know.

I won't pretend to show just how I feel,
or just who I am.
Because I don't know.

All I know is,

I am.

Each and every time,
I hear that rhyme,
That song,

I become strung along,
Back to the little basement,
Where I spent my teenage years,
The look on my face when it was just you and I.

Though our adolescent love has faded,
we've become friends, even if distant,
and gone our separate ways,
My love for that moment will never be swept away,

You were my drug back when,
My mind was narrow then.

For I was your hero, and you were my Heroine.



~Robert van Lingen

The best of us comes out when the rest of us is gone.

At least,
I hope that's the case as I just want to save face and get away when my days face me with the longest ways around.

The depression sets as I attempt to find my faded song's wasted namesake.
Looking for a better view of the days whereupon my incessant sighs are drawn.

Drawn like a depressive sketch,
With the pencil marks parked along the secrets to peace's faded spark.

My fallacy, you see,
I'd rather breathe within the seas than have to see these things the way they've gone,
Strung me along the heartstrings stretched so thin as to nigh be my patience with this broken masterpiece.

And so,

The best of us are broken when the rest of us are gone.

But, the best in us comes out,
When the rest of us is wrong.

When I give,
Everything I have and more...

My sleeplessness' solace,
Is buried in my dreams.

My world away from the world,
Where there are no more problems to solve.

In my dreams,
Life, is just a flow,

The effortless stream of events,
That I never have to think about again.

The blissfulness of the temporary,
Escape from my woes.

~Robert van Lingen

The most painful type of pain,
Is the pain, we never knew would come,
Betray'd by our senses.
The most painful type of pain,
Turns us into trustless husks,
of Who we used to be.

Never let anyone make you think you're anything less than amazing,
   This is how we fought.

Think thoughtfully about why we're here.
  Why we are.

Here.
   Take me by my most scarred hand and I shall guide you with the lessons that burned me,
So you are spared.

Hello.
   Welcome to my heart,
It is a warm place,
  But rather quite small.

I will guide you with my wounds,
  For reason only so you should not receive in kind.

Be brave,
  But be kind,
I will show you,

That a love is not consuming,
  So breathe easy.

I will teach you the love,

   Of the truest kind.

That,

     Of the heart of a friend.

Waking,
The peaceful yet painful silence,

Breaking,
The shattered past,

Cast the mind to the broken surf,

The peaceful yet painful silence,
The accursed slumber,

The waking dreams realized,
Yet intangible,
The ineffable plot,

Waking,
Eyes ***** upon the ceiling,
The turbid lullaby resound,

The haunting end ever present dichotomy,
The peaceful yet painful slumber,
The forlorn cure,
My inescapable truth.

~Robert van Lingen

Some way I know this pain,
It shamed me to love the way it flowed,

I'm looking at my scars,
Beauty in the burdens.

But I only masked my true pains,
For every night I bled outside,
I also bled within.

Find the blade that cuts your heart,
And get away...
So you no longer have to search for the blade that cuts your arms.

The writer's mind,
Thoughts unwind,

Bring unto me your curiosities,
Your challenges and fears,
Your joys and salvations,

If I may,
I will speak your stories to my pen and paper,
Your thoughts unbound,
Unwound,

Speak to me your soul,
And forevermore may your tales speak to me,
Back to the writer's mind.

~Robert van Lingen

Write my mind,
Stare me blind.

Feel the tale,
Sing the song.

Listen to the past,
Raise the Mast.

Everything we had,
Everything we did.

This is not the end of the story.

~Robert van Lingen

That moment,
That dread-filled instant you feel everything slip away.

Hope, Lost.
Strength, Gone

Suddenly you feel useless and hated by everyone, inexplicably.

Just in that moment, Everything changes.

This,
Is Depression.

That moment,
We feel the earth shatter beneath us and we fall and all we feel is,
"Please, not now. Not again."

Our eyes flush with black and we let go,
And we fall, again.

In that moment,
We leave ourselves behind,
We wave goodbye to our minds,
That we hope to see again, soon.

This,
Is Depression...

Not a moment later our arms and legs turn to stone,
Our hearts fill with lead.

An intangible yet truly powerful pain consumes us as we fall,
again.

And we cry,
Inside or out,
Sometimes both.

This,
Is not who we are.

This is our disease.
This is not Us.

We are the strongest people on this planet.
Because, we battle a war that only we can feel,
And yeah, some of us don't make it.

This is our disease.
But...

My friends,
It is not terminal,
This is not who we are.

Let's stand up and make one more day, just in case,
We'll find love in the smallest things,
In just the simplest gesture,
A thank you,
Or a hug,
Will make our day.

To those who don't give up on us when we give up on ourselves,
Thank you.

This, ❤
Is Us.

~Robert van Lingen

subside the restless, crashing waves.

free my mind from this prison.

i am tired.
i am lost.
i've lost all meaning of the word, hope.

now, i just survive,
but only just...

egged on by the pluck and strike of the dancing tunes i force myself to listen to,
just to distract myself from all the raging stimuli.

emotion-sensory overload

perhaps, it's time i tried something new.
to stare into fear, and run it through...

maybe the little white pills aren't the boogyman,
the monster under my bed.

the monster is in my head,
and perhaps,
this little white pill...
just may put him away for a little while,
one day at a time.

subside the restless,
thoughts in my head.


~~~~~~~

this is my therapy.
so that i can breathe.

this one's not for you,
it's for me to read.
but if you really want to,
so can you.