Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I'm tired of being alive
I'm tired of not wanting to be alive
I'm tired of having responsibilities
I'm tired of pretending like everything is okay
I'm tired of going to a house that 'im suppose to call my “home ” but it’s not that at all
Its a roof over my head to keep me warm but not to keep me sane
I'm insane
I'm tired of thinking i'm insane
I'm tired of arguing
I'm tired of having to put in headphones to block out the world
I'm tired of living in a world where money is the number one priority because without money you have nothing
I'm tired of the world
i'm tired of writing about my feelings
I'm tired of hiding my feelings
I'm tired of feelings
I'm tired of thinking
I'm tired of breathing
I'm tired of being tired ..

-n.a.
inhale
barely living, surviving
day dreams of being hit driving
crying myself to sleep
doesn't work to count sheep
hating who i am
minds a broken dam
thoughts flooding inside
i just want to hide
i never want to wake
nothing to give or take
feeling done with it all
fist punching the wall
am i mad
or am i sad
i don't know anymore
my inside is sore
i can't be fixed
feelings so mixed

exhale.
thoughts
 Feb 2015 Roberta Day
Prabhu Iyer
Vulnerable smile, cherubic.    Vessel in the well.
  Watery eyes. First tooth.         Nameless relation.
    New birth. Memories.             New joys. Old pain.
       Overflowing love.                    Half-voice. Kin-sister.

Stars, crackling up in the creux.          A relation called
Nights. Angling; moon.                 brumeux love, half-hug,
Nets wide cast; comets pass.                folded in the wallet.

Pouring out. Half-gong.      Calling to the valleys.
Brook. Shadowy corners.    Tongues, welling up
Delight, discovery.               voices, hushed whispers
Bleating with the sheep,      hymns rising.
crying with the birds,          Conjunctions of states.
whirling with the winds;    Conjurer of fawns.

Casting; soil; roots; new growings;
smiling, spiralling around the hollow,
new life; a cherub, the new dawn.
Next in the #Hermit series, branching out from the life of the remarkable hermit-woman http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-30796537.

This poem attempts a #Pointillist style, where a set of loosely defined 'emotionals' collect together feelings, organized around and branching out from a central theme - here, that of loss and reconciliation in new joys

The stanza starting with 'Stars crackling up in the creux' is inspired by works of the neo-surrealist artist Christian Schole, see for example: artflakes.com/en/products/the-river-18

Excuse my French: creux = hollow; brumeux = misty.

.
I love my room
Safe and snug
I love my bed
And bear skin rug

The only thing missing is you my love
Come to me my turtle dove

I want to hold you and kiss your neck
Make wild and crazy love to you on the adjoining deck

There's no reason to ever leave my room
Come my darling, join me in my tomb
 Feb 2015 Roberta Day
LoReLy
Je suis confu dans votre monde
je suis perdu dans vos yeux
Profondément à l'intérieur de votre coeur
enterré dans votre âme...
Vous aimer sans fin!
 Feb 2015 Roberta Day
ARI
The words
Be happy
They make me angry
For the words be happy
Do not fix me

The words
Just eat
They irritate me
For the words just eat
Wont make me hungry

-ARI
It seems I am in love
with ideas, notions,
and places I have never been.

I am in love with the idea
of forever,
of waking up beside
the one I love
everyday, until we both
cease to be.

I am in love with the notion
that there is someone
perfect for everyone,
that someday I wont
be all alone.

I am in love with the idea
of complete happiness
of being satisfied with
exactly what life hands me.

I am in love with places
that I have never been
places that I may never
get to go.
I am in love with
skylines I may never see.

I am in love with the idea
of love itself.
The notion that one can
accept someone
exactly as they are
and run away with their heart
to places neither
have ever been.
Next page