Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Words are more than sounds that are born from simple shapes the mouth make, more than mere vibrations that have spilled from your voice box and into the open air.
Words are vessels which can cradle feelings of beauty and happiness.
Other times it can be a syringe which injects poisonous and deadly thoughts into the brain.

*I think it is safe to say I have had my fair share of these doses.
 Jun 2013 Mauri Pollard
marina
i.
there are some mornings that i
can't get out of bed.  it's much safer
underneath the covers, and even if my sheets aren't
white like they are supposed to be
they are the only things that still feel clean
because every other inch of my room
still tastes and smells and feels like you.

ii.
it was 12:07 when i saw you again
for the first time in months; you didn't know what to
say, so i said it all for you by saying
nothing; it was just enough for both of us.

iii.
later i told you that we should talk, but
when the time came, i couldn't find my words,
so instead, i just decided to cling to you.  
you thought it was maybe because i was trying to
tell you i missed you, or maybe  i was leading you
on- you were wrong on both accounts.
i was just scared of letting you go because you
make bad decisions when you're alone and i didn't want you
to leave the room feeling cold.

iv.
there are some nights that i
can't get into bed.  when i'm awake at least i can
control the number of times you get into my head;
but sleep scares me now because every time i
close my eyes it's like you're still here and
no matter how hard i pretend that your company is easy
it's always unsettling- the honest truth is that
ever since i let you go, i've watched you become a ghost.
hello, i don't know where this came and i'm scared to read this over because i feel like even though every bit of it is the honest truth these words seem like a stranger's.
 Jun 2013 Mauri Pollard
John
Remove my body
From the
Wreckage
Tell all
The papers
Who I am
Let it be
Known
I won't
Be
Beaten
Down
Buried with
Black flowers
And doused
In rotten
Stenches
I am
Here
And not
There
I am one
With
The ways
Of the
Winds
I bind
Them to my body
And fly
Up
Down
Up and
Out
You can't win
I won't
Lose
I can't
For the wind
Does not permit
Such
Atrocities
It gives me no
Other choice
But to
Get
Up
And continue
On
Heart beating
Blood
Pumping
Eyes
Set
On the
Horizon
Time keeps slipping away.
And we watch it fall into the abyss.
Forever lost.
So we think.

The silence is here now.
Have we hit our target?
Not yet.

My insanity keeps me awake at night.
Insomnia seems so routine.

Where dreams become just fragments of memories…

The streets are still hot from the summer’s day.
And I can’t help but still feel so cold.
 Jun 2013 Mauri Pollard
SALaprade
You're welcome to examine my thoughts,
Just please don't entertain them;
To do so would be at your own risk.

From the outside looking in,
I can see how you'd be tempted,
But not everything is as it seems.

If you should happen to find yourself
Lost in me, Imprisoned in my dreams,
For your sake, step lightly through my reality.

If by chance you escape, sanity in tact,
Remember, just remember,
It wasn't personal, don't be angry for too long.

Don't be too worried about me,
I'll get along, and be okay in my own way.
And let me thank you for trying to save me from myself.

This labyrinth that is my mind,
It unfolds into what I know is my world
Sometimes my prison, sometimes my escape.

It's always been my reality
The choices are mine to make
But all too often, they end up making me.

I don't at all wish for you to go,
But I understand if it's hard for you to stay
My world can be a frightening place to be.
 Jun 2013 Mauri Pollard
InLove000
I miss him
I miss talking to him.
I just miss knowing I could see him everyday.
I haven't missed anyone like this before.
But Him! God I miss everything about him
&
I just feel my eyes start to flood when I think about him.
I can't tell anyone
Just to express my inner pain
through words!
How do I get over literally what I thought was the man of my dreams
How do I get over him?
The answer is that
I don't know
 Jun 2013 Mauri Pollard
LDuler
People over romanticize things like
Sylvia Plath's
suicide in the oven
or stars
or love.
Stars are just big
flaming messes
that burn and care
for nothing else.
and so is love.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
I sat and watched
Relived every memory
The sad memories often striking first
The good memories often soothing the pain of the sad
Both intertwined as they were one in the same
As the good memories are often the saddest
And the saddest memories are often the good unforgotten
These memories often racing
To see which can finish first
In the glimpse of an eye the race is over and done
Until the lightning shatters the sky with its white-blue streak across the clouds
Brings me back to reality and I see those memories are only the reflection of my eyes
In the water drops as they race down the window as the storm rages on
It was a rainy day.
Next page