Anniebell Lector

Anniebell Lector Feb 2015

Insomnia

I'm finding it hard to sleep these days.
While my mind whirs electrical currents
civil war.
And my voices whisper
yesnomaybes
taunting my neverending curiosities.
today and tomorrow and yesterday pool at the back of my skull
forgetting which came first,
and which hasn't happened.
Forgetting to care,
as I stare into the smokey galaxies above my bed.
Dreams consort with ghosts,
nightmares sing cryptic lullabies in hollow voices.
Conversations that never existed, unravel themselves
before my hopeless, opened eyes,
and I breathe my silent testimony
to the horrors I so graciously accepted as home,
to ears that will never hear it.
Like a nymph I feel my skin,
cellophane tight,
conforming to laws of nature that are not my own.
Accepting existence as an anomaly, out of spite for my creators.
I rise and fall
pulled by sweet Luna
into the fading lights of my consciousness,
then back to harsh reality before I can appreciate
my mind's secret gardens.

Jan 2015

vf

i dedicate this to the bottle,

the vice that sets into my blood stream,
the sin that allows me to sin some more and
comfortably sits just below my skin

to let me know i can do this,
and i can say anything, be
anyone. the bottle knows my body the way
fingers do, the way lovers know their
person's ugly marks and

softens their cruel words. it is my lips that rest
on a gentle edge, a glass edge,
and tips my chin to meet the encouraging kiss.

Anniebell Lector Jan 2015

Inhumane

I love the way you pretend.
I love the way you dress up
all skin, and cotton, and beautiful
lies.
I love the way you tease,
my words from their dusty catacombs,
with your smile, your sway,
your beautiful ******* lips,
trailing down my neck, my chest.
******* this neverending
journey to the end of your corridors and locked doors.
I love the way you don't know
how you inspire my deep seated desires.
I love your innocence
my inner demons coaxing
the lost little lamb
in your eyes.
I love the way you shiver
when my fingers make promises my heart can't keep.
When my smile makes promises
my foundations can't withstand.
I love the way you don't ask questions,
how you trust me.
So lovely,
misguided,
and I know I'm going to break your heart.
But the way you look at me
reminds me of what it means to be human,
even if what I do to you, proves
I'm not.

Anniebell Lector Jan 2015

Supply and Demand

And I run,
I run so far away;
from the pain and the decisions
you've forced on my fragile mind,
From the agony of realizing
every second I spent blind
to your lies, and your love,
and your useless promises.
To your empty dreams
your late night wishes.
Future
turned into a past tense verb
moved by your lack of motion,
momentum created from my
spontaneous combustion in love
Inflamed
infatuated with your hollow charm,
and your flawless game.
The desire to tame,
an nothing more.
Though, I became the *****,
who took it all and shouldered
the Burdon of your wasted potential.
And buried the belief that
ideservedmore
than what you gave me.
What I got,
the empty handful
of ashes.
pain/fear/freedom
paid in full

Jan 2015

RyanMJenkins

Th(ink)

For all the plants that never get the chance to dance in the wind
For the wilted who spill, drinking away their built up sin
To those who choose not to speak in order to avoid disaster again
I dare you, to put down your sword, and pick up a pen

Defenses guarding false pretenses anchored by apprehension
Left my soul suspended in the smog of a ***** dimension
Purging through pores and unlocking my mind's doors
Left me to believe in things I could not accept before.
Eye put on a pair of wings to elevate and see what was really in store

I chose limitless bliss and unending warmth

No longer was life a chore,
implored by something more
lured by an unseen force

and with all three eyes I now adore

..Knowing I am a fractal
could-be casualty
swallowing humanity's vain reality
drowning out the worst in me
cutting all my puppet strings
from the cloud that had power to make me bleed

noticing symphonic synchronicites
I jumped in the river and floated downstream

inhaling sweet oxygen no longer dying to breathe
For when we try to release, we see peace as it comes naturally
we've been searching for tranquility when it exists in you n me.
the modified god with unlimited ability
Yet even the highest high can go blind when we lose the will to dream

I can't be there for each road as it bends
But I know as of late, can't say I've been a good friend.
So with every ounce of love I can extend
I'll meet you down the river, at what seems to be the percieved end.

You will meet an eagle eager to offer you a feather,
dip it in ink.
Write out every single pattern of you weather,
and let it take you to the brink.
The frequencies within and around will astound as you use shears on your own tether,
Faster than you can unconsciously blink.
At last you can relax knowing it gets better forever,
For together we won the right to think.

Anniebell Lector Jan 2015

Untitled

Those that say writing is for those avoiding life,
have never seen the way my pen
dances across it's stage.
They've never seen the way words can
wrap themselves about you,
settle in your bones,
nap in your empty places, guarding your secrets.
They don't know how it feels
to squirm under the relevance of a poet's
transcending prophecies.
They don't know the subconscious way we bite our lips
when e.e. cummings whispers
oceantides.
Or how we sigh, starry-eyed
when T.S. Eliot feeds our fantasies with dreams
of places and things we can't find in our backyards.
They can't possibly understand
the relief of understanding,
when Sylvia Plath eviscerates herself into our thirsty
mouths, spilling her soul onto skinsoft pages.
Maybe, then
poets are not so alive after all,
human sacrifices to their own mortal experience.