The sun is just the devil's tool
To turn the moon into a fool
Exposing a heart so cruel
It only takes a single word to **** a man
I have shadows where my eyes once were,
for years I have spent clawing at them
scratching the blood from my corneas
and draining the tear drops from my duct
slowly depleting myself from sight
because I am tired of looking at the mirror
and despising the broken emptiness.
Thus, I see no evil because everything is dark.
All I need is...
Something to get me through the day
To take all of the pain away
I am miserable here
The air is thick and drear'
I go to work each night
And return in the morning plight.
My social distance
Has boiled me to non-existence
I have no life anymore
Just another slave to the world
"I just need to take a nap"
Nap, (noun) definition:
1. A ten year comatose state to avoid all of my life's problems
2. A nonexistant like state removing ones self from suffering
3. An excuse not be productive
Nap (verb) definition:
1. Taking a short rest from your dreary life
2. Pretending to be asleep when annoying people (all people) attempt to communicate with you
3. A failing attempt at death
Shut the lid to my sarcophagus
Let me sink into the abyss
For this world is one I won't miss
Tell me what you think of this potential song intro. If anyone wants to co-write a song with me that'd be cool
If Death was an alcoholic
I'd be a bottle of Beam
Drinking away his sorrows
Like there is no tomorrow
Because life keeps falling
apart at the seam
I AM AN ALCOHOLIC
and my drink of choice is death
day drinking like a champion
and living like a mannequin
the *** and coke rolls off my tongue
with rest of my breath
Yes I have a problem
and Yes I have excuses too
No I don't plan on stopping
I simply love the throbbing
when my throat hits the bottom
so death I'll see you soon
If only sleep would come as easy
As the anxiety that keeps me awake
Its gonna be a long 2 days
A poem a day
To keep the insanity away
You dont actually touch things!
For we molecularly reject everything.
The "I'm not touching you" cliché
Becomes uncomfortable childs play
Because the distance between us
Will never not exist, thus
Kissing her is a game
Of pushing her all the same;
Two lips fighting over the same space
But neither wins the race
Unless she makes me suffocate
And all my atoms relocate
To grasp onto some oxygen
And maybe some nitrogen.
She tells me I always push her away
But babygirl thats part of my DNA.
I can't help it that our atoms wont fuse
Ive tried my best but I always lose.
Being an introvert is atomically sound
Its better that no one is around
So I dont reject them from my life.
Its an ironic kind of strife:
Being in permanent isolation
Because you dont want rejection.
We never truly touch
But that doesn't mean very much.
I need to shut my third eye
So I can finally go to sleep
Lately I have been shrinking,
the keg I once proudly was
now trickles down to a pint.
For the numbers flutter off the scale
like hail violently pelting the earth.
I've lost 30 lbs in two months
and I hold my chest a little higher.
I am noticeably skinnier
such that my enemies quiet.
The weight of my stomach hardly droops
but the weight of the world
seems to have only been growing.
The world has turned into a mess
The dept has surpassed my ears
and the expenses only get taller
The pressure of marriage and family
to satisfy the woman I love requires,
the atmospheric pressure of society
and my internal pressure to become someone
has created a density difficult to bear
For every pound I have lost
Gravity gains ten thousand more
And yes my body is shrinking,
But so is my wallet, my belongings,
my spirit to keep on going
my life force that keeps me awake
and the energy I have to think straight.
Yes, my whole world is shrinking.
Death and I are drinking a beer
while writing the words
to a love song that you'll never hear
We have scripted your eulogy
although you are alive
Its because you are dead to me
Buried inside my lungs
never to be spoken of
cut off from my tongue
You were the living poison
only killing yourself
with all your pathetic reasons
Because Death and I
are better friends
than you and your lies
I'd rather drink myself to Death
and be his best friend
than be close enough to feel your breath
Wrath sits in my pocket, blushing Rosacea
like a tiny misunderstood ornamental figure.
He's the timepiece you gave me two years ago
that tends to detonate when you get too close.
I chain him to the loop of my belt
kept out of reach from the general public
but when you grind my gears for your pleasure
Wrath ticks, ticks, ticks, away his life
until one day, when his brother love fails
to bring him to his senses; the fuse will burn
We all are torn to pieces
I sit here....
I sit here...
I sit here...
until one day, I.......................................................................................die
having done absolutely N. O. T. H. I. N. G.
and I regret <dfihbadflhbfihrefbiuwfiuhfihifiufiwief> everything.
pretending to be busy instead of doing school work
Yesterday I found my heart teetering
on the tops of your fingertips.
I was attempting to walk across a tight rope
from my chest to yours without falling.
Ev'ry word you spoke was a gust of wind
pulling me closer to falling and I spoke
my own words to stabilize my legs.
But I knew the tragedy of one slip,
If I said something too strongly or
or I didn't listen well enough,
stumbling off the rope was inevitable;
whether I hit an unknown bottom
or kept falling down the rabbit hole
the result would be the same.
My heart, broken on impact,
the force of gravity tenfold
because the value of my love for you
is everything times ten to the tenth power.
I cannot really fathom a shattered heart right now,
but I'd imagine its something like--
Humpty Dumpty on steroids falling
from the moon instead because someone
accidentally mixed up the two children stories.
Humpty Dumpty jumped over the moon
and shattered every piece of himself on the way down.
For the kings men would never find him again
And I would never be able
to put the pieces back together.
...Hey, ******, ******...Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
My life has a reaction entropy of positive infinity
I am sincerely sorry for being an absentee in my own life. You probably don't know me or even care about my existence, nor do you find relevance in my apologetic attempt to reconcile my fruitlessness. But I feel strongly compelled to apologize for my stagnation:
I come from a pond across the way from you. A stowed away break in the trees where the sun only shines for a brief time at noon and disappears for the rest of the day. The birds don't sing their song of sixpense, nor do the fish splash or the frogs belch their symphony. Even the crickets scream as loud as the mimes at the circus. For nothing enters and nothing leaves, so why do you even bother?
I only write to you for what could have been, and pray for forgiveness for what hasn't been. I understand that the act of "what if"s is a waterfall of tears cascading into an abyss, but I find that this journey is a necessary evil.
So what if I made a splash today in my pond, the ocean of things that I can actually control. Sent ripples across the pond and stirred the fish into commotion. The frogs join in the chaos with their symphony and maybe the crickets, after hearing the low bass of croaking, decide to join in with their rhythm that awakens the birds from their deep slumber. In response, the birds spring up with their joyous melody and the ensemble of nature creates an exuberant noise in a previously dull and dim place. Such a thought that one tiny splash can dictate a tremendous ensemble, such that if you took your thoughts off of your own life for a split second you could possibly be splendidly surprised by burst of nature from an insignificant source. Such small fractions of life can create mesmerizing sound waves that make you a little happier today.
It seems so simple to create, just a whispering splash. Yet I have failed to create a single note that is audible to the outside world.
There are two plausible reasons for my plight: Either the noise I attempt to create is so insignificant to the outside world that more significant amplifications exceed my own capacity to make sound or the world is just simply not listening anymore.
No matter how many times you cry out, jump up and down in the pond and scream your head off at the world; the ripples aren't forming. The waves don't crash on the shore and one is left standing invisible in the center of a drowning amount of commotion.
And if you are reading this, you are the anomaly that has slipped through the sound barrier to hear this silent song.
She spins and twirls
no care in the world;
flower petals cover
the ground she frolics over
following her every which way.
The music guides her sway
her feet glides across the floor
as though her troubles are no more
and her anguish dissipates .
her suffering creates
the harmony and the old tears
fall with the melodic fear
that people are always disapproving.
But when my love is dancing and grooving
her heart skips the sad tracks
and finds her way back
home and in the warmth of my arms.
Her beauty shone bright because the harm
was left on the other side of the room
barricaded by dozens of flower's bloom.
She has been dancing for hours
and the bedroom is flooded with flowers
sprouting from the combination
of one part beauty and three parts the sensation
of being truly loved.
Her body slips into mine like a glove
For she is someone I will never let go of
When we dance together under the moon's love.
written in a time of suffering for my pride and joy, my love and life. RHE
Why is it so dark in my life right now?
My eyes are closed... what else did you expect?
The shimmer of light
That takes my hand in the dark
And shows me her way
I try to sleep, I honestly try my best,
life would call me a mess.
But when the night comes and goes
As though the wind blows her away
I cant help but tear myself to pieces.
You might not understand the sleeplessness
But im sure you all know suffering.
The happy thoughts stuck on buffering
Spinning a wheel of sorry im not functioning.
Not today nor any other,
A constant "why do I bother"
Trying to recover from the last 52 hour
Binge watching of "something to do"
Just To keep myself from knocking a ***** or two
Loose from my scattered brain;
Splattered against the television
For hours on end because delusion
Is a better conclusion than depression.
Stuck in a fantasy that I can be super human
Rather than facing the contusion head on.
Putting a bandaid on the hole in my soul
Hoping that heroism is a contagious scroll
Through the cartoon section of the tv guide.
I hide in bed waiting for my bride,
My perfect life to fall into place
But all I face is static friction
Because the perfect life is fiction.
And ill lie awake till the day I die
Watching the world as my life goes by.
Suffering, like the rest.
Help i really cant sleep. This poem sounds good in my head but who knows if that is reliable. Let me know what you think. I was trying to play around withmany differnt types of rhyming while still being super serious
I thought vulnerability was for the weak.
Even when I let you inside my thoughts
I've had both hands on your steering wheel.
I swerve hard left turns on the difficult memories,
dodging the on coming traffic of blatant truths.
My minds is a pile up on intestate 98
but I have you on the detour route
to Mr. Nice Guy lane on the road of "life is okay".
The next stop is "I am happy" street on the corner
of "you will be all right" avenue and "I don't care" lane.
But these fabricated roads are painted over signs
that trick you into believing that I am truly "fine".
But all the cars have crashed and burned
and now you know the truth.
Insomnia is literally killing me right now but hey makes some interesting poems
Death can bite my shiny metal...
It can fall off my thoughts like a petal
And let go of my family tree.
O' please, let my loved ones be,
And the sea of darkness set free
So that i can sleep in peace
And wake with all my pieces.
This life is but a simple lease,
time that I'd like to extend
Push away the invevitable end
That dooms us all to bend
To our knees and weep.
O' let me never sleep
Sometimes in life you just have to crack a few backs
I find no comfort in the tears,
Nor the lasting words of sentiment,
But the funeral precession marches on
And my soul wrenched from its place.
Death claimed them all
If you only knew the extent of my death
you would run away from my plight
And never look back
Death be not proud
I stand at the foot of reason,
and feel the need to climb--
ev'r so high upon her mount
where the cloud breaks
and her pinnacle understanding peaks.
Only to take a great leap of faith
head first off the mighty cliff,
into an abyss of the unknown
where my greatest fears and desires
lay to waste in the nothingness.
Most days I can't fathom why I climb,
out of bed, into the world, into the light.
yet I find a reason to leave my covers,
my sanctuary of warmth and protection.
I meet you at a little coffee shoppe;
A Wednesday morning cup of coffee
steaming upon my rugged face
sleep deprived and wishing the week's end.
Stuck in the inevitable climb of reason
and unfulfilling success.
I doubt my existence and purpose,
like every other Wednesday.
yet here I am, struggling along
fighting the same tragic fight
with absolutely no reason,
but reason itself good enough
to keep me moving on
to another Wednesday and --
another cup of coffee,
Another reason to climb
procrastinating studying for a political science final exam
My roommate snores so loud the entire room trembles. For I am left to stay awake the rest of the night instead of tasting the sweet paradise of forbidden dreams. Its the casualty of brotherhood I guess...
I cant sleep and i kid you not
My roommate sounds like a train crashing into a wall every 3 seconds... sos
I drink your cup of poisen every day,
In the hope that one day I will survive
A full dose of your toxicity
I am not a poised person
| Nor am I a delight to hear
| But I am a truth warrior
|a knight for deeper meaning
|and a contender for reality
|So I speak my restless mind
|on the matters that matter most
\ and for this I am sutured.
| my mouth sewn shut
| by the red and yellow tape;
/ diminishing the truth
|until nothing is ever said
|And I weep
. Silent tears
Let the truth be known
They are stacks of mud--
Splattered filth on the curb
slowly rotting away
like debris of our own path.
Trampled upon leaves
and roadkill rabbits
that pass by our eyes
like the birds of the sky;
Forgotten people of time
and tragedy's aftermath.
Yet these wise wise fools
are happier than I,
the higher and mightier
Begotteb of a son.
Whom dwells in depression
Chained to a society
that feeds off of misery
and regretful deceit;
The comfort and contentment
perceived as luxury and success
For I see them smile
almost a daily occurrence,
as though a new sunshine
is enough of a reason to live zealously.
For I have not unwithholdingly
smiled in countless years,
yet these pitiful souls
have the ability to surpass my own
and thrive in the freedom of their hearts
whilst I suffer in the mundane of wealth.
Death is the only little pleasure
Left in this sullen world
For all things have their own
attempt at death.
S p a n
Th writ is
Whoops just a silly
Everyday I muddle through
Meandering the waste land, a
Plethora of subsatisfactory
Indifference to the bottomless
Nothingness that thrives
Existing to die
Sleep walking in ---
Read the first letter of every line for funsies
I can pack all my belongings into a single bag
But I cannot condensed my thoughts into a single universe
I ponder death often,
And he scoffs at my folly
Sleeplessness is the Gift I ask not for
But grants my imagination a vivacity
That thrives as a plethora of drugs,
And I see thee as a painful love
That I simply cannot return
Its been a while since i've slept well, so expect lots of poetry of all variety in quality
I have a sentence to life
And the warden is Death.
We all have our mystery and worldly ties
But here lies our gravestone, alone in the skies
Sweet cherry blossoms
Are drowning in your eyes;
Drifting out to Sea
Another haiku for my love
There are 7.6 billion fools to this day
and I build an understanding to stand among them.
I came to the haven of insecurity to find the unknown
and to worship the word of my Professors like a slave.
I bow down to the, end all be all, grades of disappointment
As if these C's will give me the edge one day;
the sway over everybody else to secure my existence.
I yearn to matter in anyway possible,
In a society that wants to ***** out my contributions.
I can not compare to the greats in their sepulchers,
Nor can I circumvent my disposition of miniscularity.
But one day when I know what those fancy words truly mean
I will reign down from above
And hopefully take my place next to the others...
Dead and in a grave of my own.
This poem is absolutely my truth! Hope you all enjoy!
Where the darkness goes
I will follow endlessly
Into the abyss
A haiku for my love
Today is cloudy with a chance of Death
Fervent warriors come upon a field,
A trickle of men storming the grassy abyss,
prepared with shields upon their hearts
and weapons ready at the finger tips.
Their hearts oscillating to the war cries
and to the sounding drummer's march.
A prevalent threat casting shadows overhead;
Awaiting the freedom bell and the open air,
the men charge with their pens cocked
and their ink basins filled to the brim.
I lay awake to the sound of sirens,
the morning bustle and calamity.
Busy people among relentless lives,
breathing in their first breathes of the day,
Echoes of the coffee stirring and pitter patter
Of footsteps leading their way
But I remain here, stubbornly in my bed,
With an unwillingness to start.
For the curvature of the bed,
made by my own brutish heft
feels as though a valley to climb
has begun to steapen
The reluctance to clamber my way
Out of these walls
Has devoured my will to move
And I will remain stuck here
Until I am yanked with force
By someone who cares
Probably shouldnt ve writti g poetry this late
I just need to be more creative
Have one thought that clicks in everybody's mind
Something that makes me more special than the rest;
Something that inspires,
That requires those who read it to sit and ponder.
A stir in the air that shipwrecks your mind
On the island of my imagination.
I just need something more.
But what for?
The clicks and the views,
The stars in the night sky
Or the "i love you" (s)
O' nothing that really matters anymore
Writing at a time when i should be asleep, probably going to wake up to this trash
Death tempts me with a chance to finally fall asleep...
And I chose to decline.
O' the regret.