Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Jul 2018 Onyx
Darcy Lynn
I am adept
In the art of being okay
I have mastered the craft
Of covering my troubles
I use all sorts of fancy facades
Acrylic, oil, watercolor
You name it.

I can paint over nearly anything

You will never know
How late I was up last night
Or why.

My eyes flicker
Like candlelight
But you couldn’t see
You couldn’t possibly see
I’m too good
For that.

I can dance, too
Waltzing away my sorrows
Carefully tip toe-ing the
Pas-de-I-am-fine
I get a standing ovation every time

I’m very talented, you see.

But my all time favorite
Is my disappearing act
I’m still perfecting it
Right now
But one of these days
I’ll show you
How I
Slip
Slip
Slip
Away

Right through your fingers.
  Jul 2018 Onyx
Jason Paul Klenetsky
My mind and body can’t agree
On what the hell to do with me
See, I’ve lived my life afraid to live
I’ve got so much more I still can give
But I am selfish, an introvert
I shy away when I feel hurt
Protecting all that I hold dear
Living out my days in fear
I shudder at the thought of change
That somehow I’ll drown in the rain
Barely noticed, I feel restrained
From the noise inside my brain
Nothing ventured
Nothing gained
Enough to drive a man insane
And now it’s time to end the game
No contenders, mine to claim
It’s hard for me to explain
Like art, I feel stuck in a frame
No excuses, none to blame
I’d surrender if it’s all the same
And live my life that’s too mundane
While ending up in the hall of shame
Onyx Jul 2018
whispers usher the buried, regrettable staircases of the ugly past
I dread to climb
fearing the scabs of yesterday to bleed anew.

what unwholesome lies I had strung
the threads of which interlaced with My reality
till I couldn’t tell either apart;
what hues I deceitfully brushed upon the dismal horrors that otherwise were colorless,
those terrors reborn to a novelty akin to Beauty.

blurring the lines between falsity and truth
I wonder now
whether it was merely for some higher justice
or just to hide my ugly self from infamy?
(Part one)
  Jul 2018 Onyx
Andrew Durst
My death will be liberating.

And I do not say that in the sense
that I am going to find a cliff
and take a good jump off.

No.

I am just trying to find a
clever way to tell you

that I do not know what is going
to happen next.

You see,

there is a
fine line
between
dreaming and
mortality

and

I am finding out for myself
that being in love
does not always
involve

being awake.

And for my sake
I fall in love with daydreams,
nightmares,
hazy realities
and

the hung-over idea

of not being enough.

It is all out of my hands.
                 It is all out of time.

And the only thing I have left to do,
now,


is decide.
Thank you to anyone that reads this.
  Jun 2018 Onyx
Emily Dickinson
1257

Dominion lasts until obtained—
Possession just as long—
But these—endowing as they flit
Eternally belong.

How everlasting are the Lips
Known only to the Dew—
These are the Brides of permanence
Supplanting me and you.
  Jun 2018 Onyx
Sylvia Plath
Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.
Nor the woman in the ambulance
Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly ----

A gift, a love gift
Utterly unasked for
By a sky

Palely and flamily
Igniting its carbon monoxides, by eyes
Dulled to a halt under bowlers.

O my God, what am I
That these late mouths should cry open
In a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers.
Next page