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Chris Myrick Mar 2014
Light shines from a screen, only insincere words emitted
Threads from coarse sheets burrow into skin untouched
Feet dangle from the end of a bed too small, still half empty
A mind sinks into pillows and eyes gaze upon beauty that remains absent
Tears don't fall from eyes so jaded
Arid dreams still crack the heart
And the sharp pains from shattered souls keep me awake
Chris Myrick May 2014
Yesterday morning I started driving around town to clear my head.
In silence, I found myself circulating through the streets, merely another cell in a system I don't understand
The sun fell upon my chest and neck, light just barely missing my eyes
I watched as the shadows of trees rose to greet me before scampering back to their posts
At one point it didn't seem like I was moving at all and instead it was darkness that explored the roads
It made me wonder.
In this world, am I truly in motion or does the world warp around a stationary existence?
I should know the answer.
I don't.
So maybe I'll just drive until I find what will put my mind at ease
I'll drive until I make progress and find myself
Chris Myrick Apr 2014
I want the best for you
But I secretly hope you fail.
I want to see you smile
But your tears would be just as beautiful.
I want you to be happy
But I want you to pay for the way you make me feel.
You hurt, I hurt
It hurts that none of you see that
Do I hate that I love you?
Do I love that I hate you?
Do I love the fact I understand you?
Or do I hate that you can't fathom the real me?
I'm a peacekeeper.
I don't want to see you at war.
But I'd love to see you burn.
Shots are fired after shots are taken,
I'm the only one not wearing a vest.
Words pierce my heart en route to their target.
And in the end I'm the only one wounded.
We were like Pangea,
And now even more so.
All of you are drifting,
And I'm drowned in the rising tides.
You're all so busy staring into your own reflections that you don't realize the fog never cleared from my mirror.
I love you but it feels like you can't say the same.
I can't deal with you but my heart doesn't leave me an option.
We're not friends, we're siblings.
And you only agree with half of that statement.
Chris Myrick Sep 2014
Smoke weaved like sinew of an ethereal hand and caressed my fingertips, slowly moving up my arm
Wispy tendrils lingered gently upon my shoulder as sunlight poured down from the heavens
The incandescent monsoon flooded the vibrant courtyard, leaving shaded puddles in its wake
Darkened caricatures of trees and grass crept along soil as a swaying audience, captivated by the symphony of a million chanting leaves
Ashes like snowflakes danced in the wind and left charred brushstrokes on cobblestone parchment
In the midst of the warmest breeze, I sat frozen, awestruck, constricted by aesthetic chains
Picturesque details stitched webs that bound me
But no spiders sought my flesh
Instead I fell prey to the hope of seeing such beauty again
Chris Myrick Mar 2014
The subtle hum of my computer.
The gentle whisper of the heat in the vents.
Muffled voices next door speak elatedly on topics I may never hear.
The creaking of joints, aged beyond their years.
The tapping of my keyboard creates a percussive symphony.
It's so noisy.
I want nothing more than to hear your voice.
Silence.
Chris Myrick Jun 2014
I once again found myself intrigued by the ominous darkness.
Your roar cracked the skies but your growls enticed me.
You lashed out, ribbons of plasma sent fluttering through the clouds.
I watched as every little spark scattered into aether
I listened as you sang, I watched as you danced, I laid awake as you wept.
So strong yet so fragile.
Finite and fascinating.
Chaotic.
Serene.
You are the eye of my storm.

— The End —