Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Do you ever feel
Like the words are stuck,
So much you want to say?
But you allowed someone
To break the connection
Between your soul and fingers?
Do you ever feel
So pushed and pulled
By other's emotions
You forget which ones
Are truly your own?
Are you so compelled
To give and give to others
You whither in the drought
That's left behind?
Boundaries, boundaries are
So hard for me to find.
They're invisible laser beams
Protecting a fine jewel.
I can't see them.
I clumsily make my way through.
I allow others to determine my path.
Where is the strength
I felt two years ago?
Will it ever return?
Until then, I swing from here to there,
Tripping, slipping along the way.
Searching for the strength I knew
Before my world was turned upside-down.
I
Just
Took
That
Extra
Pill
You
Told
Me
To
Take
Will
I
Die
Or
Will
I
Wake
I
Drank
What
I
Was
Not­
Supposed
To
Drink
Now
Pills
And
Alcohol
Mix
To
Sink
Within
My
So­ul
A
Drop
To
Think
I'm
Dead
I
Think
Good
Night
A
Wink
Or
Twelve
O­r
100
Or
Forever
Winks
I
Love
You
HP
You
Saved
Me
Many, many
Winks
You'll know
If I
Survived
If you
Hear
From me
Again
Xo
I love you
More
Than
You
Will
Know
We live our lives in waves that come and go with the wind. The rhythm of our hearts stuck on replay force us to carry on appearances of steady beating. Our circadian rhythms remind us of a world outside our own and of natural order in a less-than-natural time. Energy passes by and returns as tides once may have. And I know that everything we love has both it’s a time and rhythm, but what if there were no clocks? Sand drags through a shallow hole and nobody is there to watch; we are all far too busy loosing track of time. Time stretches to an unfathomable state and we are infinite again as we unite with what little unknown time we have left. Who would you unite with if you were infinite?
We habitually allow ourselves
To consume to our hearts content without
Remorse for others. Gluttony takes from
The needy and gives to those who do not
Need. The poison of greed snakes through our brains
And ignites shallow thoughts, calling to our
*****, and we reaping to it in actions
We call “commodities” instead of a
Luxury. Greed is the cancer of the
Mind, and we are all sick. Medication
Has no implications on this illness,
And there is little in ways of hope to
Find a cure to this madness we indulge.
Ravenous in our practices, we call
Ourselves the “superior race” in vain.
People embody the term “enigma”
So eloquently and perfectly that
A change in atmosphere approaches as
They do. We forget that these people are
People; these people look like distorted
Projections of perfection. We forget
That inner turmoil troubles us all and
Can make up more of our total ‘self’ than
We wish it to. We forget that “people”
Aren’t really people - they’re monsters in wake.
They lurk and skill in the darkness, waiting
To be discovered, exterminated.
We are all monsters who forget sometimes,
The importance of simple kindness and,
It’s implications because we are too
Busy hiding. Hiding in cramped places,
And in the open, we act as shields from
Both others and ourselves. The problem with
A world full of monsters is that there are
So many of us that we have become
Anonymous - unrecognizable.
the intimate whispers of a lover in the sofest sway of the wind
the smell of you the night I told you I love you
the look in your eye when I let you go
the feeling I have late at night when I go through your drawer
the taste of our sweet memories that leave a bitter after taste after time
is all that remains of what-could-have-been
Downtrodden paths that once were occupied/
Lay silent, untraveled. Familiar/
Pathways bring familiar memories/
Long forgotten, sweeping beneath cold feet./
Long moonswept hair lays still over a white/
Face. Tree roots like fingers combing through hair/
And caress her porcelain face waiting/
To be found, face down in the cold damp earth./
The wind blew through hollowed out buildings like lungs taking in air in shallow breaths, rattling through the skeletons of forgotten structures. A gust kicked up loosened dirt from the path beneath his feet.  Alone and desolate, the streets of this lost town looked as though they had not been traveled upon for many years now, but still they managed to look almost full – like the space could not contain the contents of what it used to be.
Here stood the ruins, a place Kieran had come to know quite well since his discovery of it in his first year of high school. Though it meant something different to him now than it had then, he still kept quiet of its whereabouts to many.
He used to come to stop feeling, to stop thinking of the things he was surrounded by each day. Now, some days, he had trouble remembering how to feel at all. To him, this place was the only way he could feel what it was like to be himself, or to remember the things that had comprised who he had been in the past years.
Things had changed now, of course. The years had crawled past, many without making very much of an impact on anybody or anything. He felt that the only thing that had gotten him through the tougher times was his first love, Briardale. Briar had been the only person he had shown this place.
He could still remember it now, the first time he had brought her here. He remembered seeing her while she took it in for the first time, wondering what she was seeing; how the ruins had looked through her eyes. Unlike most people who he had known to have seen such a dead place, Briar had surprised him.
“I like it,” she had said, with a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “It’s as though nothing outside of this is real. It’s like a dream”. Her dark hair bled into the still darker scenery, her composite disappearing into the outlines of the tall building. He knew then that she had understood.
“I like it, too” Kieran replied, watching her without shame as she admired the look of the skyline in the late day. He knew she was completely alone in her eyes, and that she probably didn’t hear his response, that she was hardly listening.
Finally, she turned to him. She opened her mouth to speak, and time slowed. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked, still smiling with wonder.
He knew that he had to tell her, that she probably already knew of his feelings towards her. She was toying with this thought – perhaps even considering it.
He moved closer to her, pacing slowly, intentions clear. He licked his lips. He swallowed audibly, the nerves defacing the moment and nearly spoiling it. He drank her beauty in, allowing his eyes to wander greedily over what he wanted but did not yet have. He wanted her, but it was more than that. He needed her. He realized then –
“I love you”, he whispered almost inaudibly, sharing another secret with her, the woman he had watched grow since they were but youthful and naïve children. “I brought you here because I love you”.
She replied by taking his hand and leading him closer, pushing her into the frame of the broken building behind them. He inched closer, looking at her, beginning with her eyes and slowly moving towards her lips. Their noses brushed and he smelt what he knew to be her scent: burnt cigarettes and pine, a winters evening.
She stared just as intensely at his lips. She had inclined her head so as to become closer still. Kieran could feel her soft breath on his chin. She raised her eyes to meet his and whispered “I love you, too”, and finally, their lips met and crossed the line between friends and lovers.
Kieran steadied himself, reminiscing on the moment, but reminding himself that things had changed. He began walking towards what used to be the old school, the flag still billowing in the autumn wind. He traveled up the stairs, creaking under his every step.
Finally he had reached the top. Standing on what passed as a roof, he looked down onto the desolate town. He watched the dust overturn and fall, the unstable buildings sway. He edged closer to the verge of the building, all the while still watching. Kieran looked directly below, wondering what it would be like if he jumped, wondering if he would survive the fall. Wondering how anybody had survived, and weather anybody lived in this life at all.


The less-than-tepid air stirred as Kieran walked the streets of his town, passing familiar shops and people all the while. He felt as though nothing held the ability to surprise him anymore. Each day seemed the same: he awoke with a heavy and slow start, went about his errands and studies, finished his tasks and went to the coffee shop on the corner of Adelaide and First Street, where he would take his usual seat by the window.
Today seemed to be no different. He entered the Red Brick Café, moving through the stiff door. He ordered his usual black coffee and placed his things on the table nearest to the window.
His load was slightly heavier today, large textbooks and journals weighing him down. Though he was only sixteen, he had already begun showing interest in studies far surpassing the average teenage parameters of notice. Before him lay the studies of Nietzsche and Marx, as well as several sheets of paper with his own scrawled handwriting, denoting his findings.  Kieran had surpassed the term “average” years ago, even if his father had failed to notice it.
       “Maybe if you would stop asking so many questions and started doing the crap they asked you to in school, you would pass your **** classes” he could recall his father saying to him after the last term.
Even still, he had not been the type to feel the need to please others. Kieran had always been focused on satisfying himself, his questions and his hunger for knowledge. He stopped at nothing to satisfy these basic needs.
        “Medium Black?” the woman had called after preparing his coffee. He retrieved the cup, mismatched and morphed, as they all were in this store. It was part of what he had liked most about it – the mugs served in late summer with the Christmas patterns, the coarse orange glasses that stood on the same shelf. None of the dish wear matched, and he thought this was exactly what gave the shop its character.
         He walked to the single leather couch pulled in front of the table overlooking the window. Through said window laid a perfect view of the people walking past on Adelaide Street. Often times, he had sat in this spot for hours simply watching people milling through the lives they wish they did not live, wondering all along whether they would decide to change.
He opened his new copy of The Introduction to Karl Marx, the crisp cover yielding to his rough hands. The smell wafted from the fresh paper – he had only bought this book a few days ago down the street at the bookstore. Kieran always enjoyed the smell of fresh parchment.
         His coffee had grown cold by the time his wandering eyes had bothered to look up from the page.          Outside the window, the street had grown quite dark, dark enough for the street lamps to have turned on. In the light below the nearest lamp, it had become evident that the first snow had begun to fall softly, slowly, and silently outside of his attention.
Then he saw her. Her auburn hair had been victim to the winter winds and lay on her shoulders unevenly, glistening with new snow. Her tall boots fell above her knees, her jacket cinched just below her waist line. She smiled and looked at the lantern overhead, laughing, admiring. The lines around her eyes creased as she playfully pouted and straightened her scarf, slanted in the cold. She pointed to the door of the café as she approached with her friends.
        She entered and he continued to watch as she striped her gloved fingers, exposing each finger with remarkable delicacy. The light did her a terrible favour and made her already notable features more prominent. Her previously dainty expression held a note of subtle seduction that Kieran doubted that she knew she possessed.
        She stood in front of the counter waiting to order.  “Grab me a seat?” she asked her friend as they slipped into the back room. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled pleadingly at the others.
        “But of course, my lady Briardale”, the other replied mockingly with an equal smile.
         Kieran caught himself before she turned her head further, before she could catch him eyeing her. He quickly flipped the page of his book to look occupied, and she shifted her glance. He raised his eyes, peeking through his lashes at her once more.
         *Briardale.
 Nov 2013 Sean Antonio Tyson
mads
I'd like to break my ribcage open,
And bash my skull with the shards.
To forget this pain,
Heartache and torture.
I felt it coming,
I saw it... touched it
And fell on it; it pierced like a vampires stake.

I am swelling with pain,
Overflowing onto those I love,
I am unintentionally; purposely
Setting others on fire.

Selfish, stupid, broken;
No ones deserves this pain
But me.
This is a mess. i am a mess. everything is a ******* mess.
Next page