Lady Luna Jun 23
Check your mind and clear it
Whether it takes a day or all year
Mental health is not a process we should take lightly
Though some of the steps are hard and uncomfortable and unsightly
Perhaps the views only look like dark rooms
Because you never allowed your light to shine through them.

You are a dream. A spiritual powerhouse.
An awakening of beauty and hope and love
Run with the thoughts that make you scream from excitement and anxiety and so much joy you are nervous.

I cannot ask you to stop checking on others,
Your heart is locked in your eyes and sewn into your sleeves but I can ask you to check on yourself first.
I can ask you to find yourself first
Adjust until you find your balance
Check your mind and clear it
  Apr 1 Lady Luna
camps
.

i want to buy these mice a home so
that their presence helps keep the table clear
i think i’ll place it in the gap between the door and the floor
in the hopes of keeping the noise out and
of having at least one of us feel
a sense of being welcome

the paper bags in my hands wouldn’t feel
heavy if they knew where they were going maybe
and hitting my head against the bed again doesn’t stop me from
showing off the letters on my chest although
i’ve been known to miss the mark

if there's a spark in her eyes it’s 'cause she stole the light from mine
but i like the cold because it makes me feel alive

my favorite part comes around
when the two trains meet and for a second
i can catch a glimpse of everyone’s place in the world
before we’re whisked away to
our respective loneliness

or maybe it’s where the streets
run narrow like those in the places where
connection, if anything, tastes a bit more genuine
it's quite polarizing but this time i’ll seek
comfort in the grey of it until it
all comes rushing back

they say home is where the heart is so this probably still isn’t it
but it will do for now

.
[new york city] | [definition of home] | [pursuit of cold]
Lady Luna Mar 31
I have gone numb
feeling nothing
but this subtle buzzing
and a muffled hum

My lungs are filled with smoke
Caused by regret, fear; the unpreferred
These are my thoughts yet I can't understand a word
But I won't choke

You know I don't like feeling dumb
So I might burn it all away instead
Perhaps it is I who's lost my head
but I won't be the only one

I had envisioned this differently
Probably why it tastes so bitter
I ain't no quitter
But heavy hands don't move as gently
Lady Luna Mar 11
Strange...
What are these?
Endorphins?

Pain's
Who I've been
Do I enjoy this?

Wondering
If you'd notice
That I'm slipping

Hovering
Not to quote us
But "it's dripping"

Off of me
and on to you
flip me over

So softly
Could you tell too?
It's not over

It's never been
You're who I've been
Pain and medicine

Skin to skin
Demons to demons
But you don't let us sin

Hold all the answers,
These are endorphins
And of course you noticed

I'm slipping
but finally I open my eyes
and see that you are too

yet somehow
We know it'll be alright
No matter what we fall into
you're the love of my life
  Feb 27 Lady Luna
Carl Webb II
Tie-dye shirt and all black sweats.
Can hippies have depression, too?
Or should we all just be much too entranced by the magic of burning grass to understand what it feels like to live in a world of dying thoughts, or thoughts of dying.
I apologize, I can’t quite get my thoughts together.
Forgive, me.

It must be the drugs.

These broken dreams can break the promises of life.
The promises that broke the wall and built the fence that still can never ever be climbed, that still can never ever be conquered...

and even though, they are just fences, we can never seem to stumble our way over them because we won’t dare to stumble near them...

because we can’t ever even see them...

I’m thinking...it must be the drugs...

See, we can’t jump,
no, no,
we can’t get off the ground,
no,
we can’t even run,
we can’t take steps,
we can’t even move,
we can’t sit still...

but we go everywhere...

...and we go nowhere...

At the same time...?

It’s gotta be the drugs.

cause see, we’re stuck in this time,
and this time...
when it goes by...
I pray...
maybe we’ll go with it...ya know...?

or maybe we’ll go against it...

or maybe we’ll do both...

...it seems, to me...
like it’s gotta be the drugs, eh?

It must be the fault of all the flamboyant Conceptions Created this Chaos, this Desolate Destruction of Emotions that are Ever so Evolving into Freedom! Freedom!
oh, we Give it all away to God for it is He that Hath the Heart to Heal, but, see,
I am not I...I can never be I...so I...Just Jot with no Joy...

so I just jot with no joy...

I am no king of kings...

I am no lord of lords...

I am only me...


but I’m guessing
that can only be
because of the drugs, right?
Lady Luna Feb 27
I write these words with shaky palms
barely managing to slide across the keys
Can't write these words with severed arms
Yet my blood still spills in between

You came to me with a cold heart
And fire beneath your feet
Wish you told me from the start
You’d paint me in defeat

But how delightful to be someone’s muse
And to be painted at all
Perhaps I’d get used to the hues
My palms shake and though I fall

These shades of red don’t feel so heavy
When I treat them like a crown
So I rise, I rise, slow and steady
Though this red still hits the ground

Like bits of me everywhere,
And splatters of you in between,
To show those who stop and stare
How beautiful red could be
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