DireSleep May 26
One day I'll wake up
And the sum of my past will be a dull ache
Weighing but a morning fog apon my shoulders
Clearing quick in dispensation
As the sun beats yellow rays through the dense diffuse
One day I'll wake up
And the fight that's left me bruised
Will be but the quick fearful twitch
Of fast movements
From the corners of my dreary eyes
One day I'll wake up
And with a deep and heartfelt sigh
My hard calloused hands and mind
Of wreaked doldrum drudge will find
The sweet and welcome caress
Of the ever restful dine
DireSleep Apr 4
Waiting for my time to come
Waiting for my hope
That glimpse of happiness
That happiness provokes

Its hard when walls become faceless jail cells
And windows and doors apperations
When getting up is a forceful attack
And an escape without preparations

Its hard when the words wont flow
And there's no solace to the pain
Yet we muster on and fight the good fight
Just to make it through the day

We neglect important parts of ourselves
Not realizing they need attention
We're too busy with the daily tasks
Like sitting up and standing at attention

My mind will usually wonder
One macabre dream after another
Yet I smile and laugh like most
As I fight to keep it all together

So many say, "we didn't even realize that you were sad."
Thats how I know I did my job right
But there are times I can't even do that
Force a smile despite the plight
DireSleep Apr 1
Just ask the question
Or no need to wait
Lips are made for kissing
So kiss away

I wish I could find a chemist
To pump me full of drugs
And I could be someone else awhile
Someone worthy of love

I wish my voice was a whisper
Instead of something else
Maybe then they would talk to me
Instead of talking to somebody else

I wish life was a sigh
Instead of a gasp
Maybe then I could breath
Instead of choking on gas
Finding myself very lonely and wishing I was someone or something else.
DireSleep Mar 22
I'm holed up tight
I know that
It aint right
Just a hostage to fear
Just a moment clear
Just a moment near
You are the catch that caught my tongue
You are the beauty of youth so young
You're everything I wish I could be
If I weren't so damn akward being me
Tomorrow I'll catch that name
I know that it has to be that day
Cause tomorrow has no date
So thats the moment that I'm never late
I hate that you got me thinking
I hate that you got me wishing
I hate that cat's got my tongue
I'm holed up tight
I rarely see the light
I rarely miss the quiet
But I'll take the noise for you
DireSleep Feb 25
You wrote that flowers are
The carbon monoxide of the earth
By product of its uses.
That flowers are
Merely the speech of birds
Daughters of trees
Perpetually waiting to grow into their womanly bodies.
That flowers are the kisses of stars
Merely a twinkle in the sky on a good night
Nearly always drowned out by the light
Pollution of the city.
That the only way I'll ever feel your kiss
Is to drive into the countryside
Where no one can see us and no one
Will believe a beautiful girl like you would dare.
That flowers are the incredibly small brush stokes of the enormously huge hands of the universe
And yet always painted with such care.
That flowers keep clouds company
Will always have a kind touch for when they cry.
That flowers are the passion that keeps the sun exploding; it's only form of art.
That all the things above describe flowers and flowers are why you are mine.
Notes: Grammer will always be lost on me.
DireSleep Feb 21
Rust in my liver
Rust in my brain
All I am is shakin here
Shaking to my teeth

They're comming down the road
They're comming up the stairs
Is this really happening
Is this really happening to me

Is this really how I feel?
This is really how I feel

The voices are coming
The voices are sound
They know the truth is here
Here and all around

A turned basket of thoughts and
A minor stop is played
Is this really happening
To me
A cordial braid of roses and
A hefty cask of caring
Is this really how I feel
Inspired by a radiohead song and lyric I always heard wrong. In any case it is about mental illness.
DireSleep Feb 19
There's no pin point precision that would lock down the moment I decided to write.
I can tell you that words fed my soul tell it burst into flames
And pain fanned them tell it burnt down my inhibition.
Words bled from me as if they were smoke spilling out the cracked walls of my frame.
Art billowed out from the splintered charred remains as if distractions could cover up scars
But as my arms and legs will tell you they can not.

"Why poetry,"

I've been asked as if my form art is a lesser ring of hell?
It's been stated with a laugh
As if it was a joke but I assure you without the steady flow of words the noise inside my head would have bested me
And that blood cannot be laid on my hands as fuel for further hate because my unsteady mind is reason enough to hate me.
You put your pretty face on the line by talking to the girl while I burn myself alive to keep her warm from the cold.
You make a joke to see her smile while I walk her to the eye of the storm so she can see how the arc of lightening spells out her name as it explodes from earth and blast into the sky
And how every time it shoots back to the earth it's just my reply.
So why do I write because I'm one big fucking storm!
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