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ryan-bowdishPoems
Crystal clarity at a cacophanous volume Like decibel demons devouring depression, Deep sobs drowned by Cranberries... Yes, I have to let it linger... Just a little longer. The rug really tied the room together, did it not? Its wool surface flays my face As the smears of tears clear my cheeks And vault from my visage, The only human touch I feel now flying, Cascading carelessly, silent and apathetic, To smash in this rug, breaking a house broken home... All lost, "Like tears in rain," Blown away by the cymbal crash The strumming of strings, Screaming of someone's sandcastles Swept away by shoreline showers, Scraped from the shivers of my spine Sloped like a summer puddle of slime, Contorted like circus freaks... You made a snail of me No. A slug (a happy home was my shell) And now If I were to curdle my blood And destroy my lungs There would be no shockwave No sudden surrender of shame Only stories scratched out Severing slumber from my soul And in the end, The stereo is my lover. Low ends learning my loneliness Mids melting away my murdered marriage Highs heaving with my heartbreak It's good to be here. No one can hear me shriek. Not even me.
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Jul 24, 2024
Jul 24, 2024 at 3:15 AM UTC
Analog Spouse
Crystal clarity at a cacophanous volume Like decibel demons devouring depression, Deep sobs drowned by Cranberries... Yes, I have to let it linger... Just a little longer. The rug really tied the room together, did it not? Its wool surface flays my face As the smears of tears clear my cheeks And vault from my visage, The only human touch I feel now flying, Cascading carelessly, silent and apathetic, To smash in this rug, breaking a house broken home... All lost, "Like tears in rain," Blown away by the cymbal crash The strumming of strings, Screaming of someone's sandcastles Swept away by shoreline showers, Scraped from the shivers of my spine Sloped like a summer puddle of slime, Contorted like circus freaks... You made a snail of me No. A slug (a happy home was my shell) And now If I were to curdle my blood And destroy my lungs There would be no shockwave No sudden surrender of shame Only stories scratched out Severing slumber from my soul And in the end, The stereo is my lover. Low ends learning my loneliness Mids melting away my murdered marriage Highs heaving with my heartbreak It's good to be here. No one can hear me shriek. Not even me.
ryan-bowdish
Written by
ryan-bowdish
American
Jul 24, 2024
Jul 24, 2024 at 3:15 AM UTC
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