Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Ego when bruised
Walks with a limp
Its eyes watery
Shamefaced, gait wobbly
It can easily be knocked of
It’s feet, as its legs suddenly
Appear spindly, malnourished
I guess starved of necessary fiber
And nutrition. I wonder if it’s got a spine
No wonder all it does is whine
When splashed with hot water.
Methinks, for one’s step not to falter
One ought to on the altar
Of one’s well-being slaughter
In cold blood the monstrosity that’s the ego.
#justsaying
You have ex'friends that weren't friends to start with.
You have ex neighbors which moved because they weren't your friends.
You have a ex boss which was a slob so you quit your job.
You have ex family which makes you are glad
You have a Ex wife. Wait a min let's not go there or you may have a ex life!
NOW must I these three praise --
Three women that have wrought
What joy is in my days:
One because no thought,
Nor those unpassing cares,
No, not in these fifteen
Many-times-troubled years,
Could ever come between
Mind and delighted mind;
And one because her hand
Had strength that could unbind
What none can understand,
What none can have and thrive,
Youth's dreamy load, till she
So changed me that I live
Labouring in ecstasy.
And what of her that took
All till my youth was gone
With scarce a pitying look?
How could I praise that one?
When day begins to break
I count my good and bad,
Being wakeful for her sake,
Remembering what she had,
What eagle look still shows,
While up from my heart's root
So great a sweetness flows
I shake from head to foot.
It feels great!
we thank each other
for remaining friends
for yet another trying day.
                                     as morning light peeps
                                     through the window
                                     we keep our faith
                                     in each other firm.
when
the evening light
fades on to
long stormy darkness,
                                       each take out
                                       poems written by
                                       the other and reads aloud,
when a poem brakes loose
from it's shackles and touch
somewhere; an unknown
depth, where pearls are found
or a lost treasure is to be retrieved,
                                                      ­  Epiphany strikes,
                                                        ­we are melded together
                                                        ­with one vision of beauty
we are sadness
kissed by the lovely
light of hope,at the
right moment that
was about to slip down
from a precipice.
Remains of a day, remains of a life!
They meet me in a few hours
And call us best friends right away
Excuse me, but I really thought
It took months, and not just a day.
You think you know me, but you don't.
For everyone who's ever lost the all important parts of themselves,
only to find it decades later on some long forgotten shelf collecting dust.

The thing is, it was the best pasta salad I've ever made.

I can't remember a single thing that I said, except for the really generic stuff like: "I'm going to go find Emily,"
And whatever else I may have said in order to break the silence.

I wish I could remember it though.

You were in my dream last night, which I also can't remember.

Much like the In-Real-Life scab on my arm.

But I can recall throwing up in your front lawn. And wanting to leave immediately after, but not going.

Resting my head against yours on some miraculous bench. Trying to shut myself up and just enjoy the shared silence.
I feel like we shared something incredibly beautiful, and yet, when I try to think of it, I get nothing.
My emotional compass is losing its gravitational pull ...

At times the direction dies still. At other times, it spins madly. 
I feel like I'm being crushed between two walls and drowned within thunder-clapping waves. Yet, on the surface of my ocean, the glass waters reflect a serene, tranquil light of the full moon hugging its night sky.   

I'm uncertain. I’m indecisive. I run away to the farthest, darkest corner of the forest. I also flee to the highest peaks and hide under sunlight. 

I'm not fearful of destruction. I'm fearful of being destructive. I tend to destruct myself by destructing the souls I cherish most. Nightmares of finding myself in abandoned emptiness haunt me. I fear being left, so I walk away. I fear being loved deeply, so I push them away. And this ... this is where I become destructive. 

I say I’m seeking peaceful stability, when truthfully...? My soul is gushing across the ends of the earth all at once. Maybe I find peace in the chaos. Maybe I just feed on chaos. 

I throw my soul into the deepest wells of love. I find myself abruptly climbing back to the surface, clawing my way up those walls. And just as I nearly reach the top, I intentionally let go of myself only to fall back in. The record breaks on replay. 

I gather myself, set the records straight then let them role into chaos once more. Once More replays itself endlessly through the space and time of my existence, and my life turns into a repetition of these "once more" chaotic events. Secret be told, I think I enjoy all of this. All so exciting and lively at that moment. Alas, dreadful at points of reality checks. Lifeless at the destination. 

So…? I gather myself and set the records straight again ...  once more ... once more, again ... and again ... 

Helpless. But wild. 
Wild. But easily tamed. 
Tamed. But cannot be owned. 

Gently handle my being. I'm too stubborn ... Even with my own self. Yet, I also feel ever so delicate and fragile. I can easily break at my own grip.

I’ll tell you how … 

It's all in the simplicities - which can also turn into complexities - found in the sun’s golden hour. Yellow rays against my skin. Illuminated dust particles dancing through my fingers. A warm whisper. That bold dive. Grab me by the extremes. 

Right now .. I think I’m coming up with a case of the blues. 
So, come … Dip me not in the rainbow, but in the *** of gold at the far end. 

Take me all the way ... The noise, it enchants me. 

Be still my heart, it’s him … Chaos.
A page of thoughts and confessions ripped out of my diary.
Sincerely, Em
Next page