Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
The pounding music
flashing lights
Writhing bodies
and murky air

I want to surrender to exclusion
  Before being taken by alcoholic infusion
Your image isn't far now
It never really was,  even in this crowd

My intoxication
   From colorful brews
Creates a contradiction
   Because I
                    Miss
                        *You
I greet the retreat of color from my world
Reality is bent, I no longer can tell truths from untruths
What I saw was mere imaginative, a lie
I'll just retract myself, to be alone and lonely once more
Calligraph my heart with the bladed tip of your words
Fill your reservoir with crimson fluid and write
Write beautifully your words of pain so I may encase them in a cage of bones
And keep those hurtful writings forever embraced deep beneath my skin
The relation between an empath and a narcissist.
Standing there mercilessly
The mistress of madness
She approached me from her shadowy domain
To tell me her tale
Of sadness
And pain

Her skeletal fingers caressed the side of my face
Driving every instance of my being to insanity
Setting my body madly aquiver
At the words of her delirious gravity
I can taste the prickling of madness on my tongue
In early morning haze
Upon your face I did gaze
You awoke from stirrings,
looking at me seemingly unfazed
Not much different from any of the other days
Seems I'm not the first thing someone wants to see in the mornings
I am mere words spoken by your tongue
No more than I previously was before
Just a label, barely clinging on
I've ruined my chances, another closed door
Ventured no further than where our journey once began
A troubled mind lingers endlessly over a provocatively constructed idea
Blissfully wandering the planes of flawless love and idealistic friendships as the impossible sun scorches and singes every cell of his being
Dauntless hope grinding away the withered and warned into the dusts of despair,
to be swept effortlessly into the dark vacuum of oblivion
And eternally, till the end of my days I will hear you say
"you fell in love with an idea".
Wispy rivers of mist flow down from a mountainside
Twirling and spiralling between the fields of delicate dandelions
Performing mesmerising dances like fairies under the lunar spotlight
Combined the aromatic fragrances and soft colors create an obscure new sense.
I'll beg the clouds to shed their tears
For my own have ran their course
Dried and lost
To the everlasting drought of panging misery

— The End —