Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Blue  Aug 2018
Blue Aug 2018
There are many moments
Through out my day
I think about
what it would be like
to not have to live
through this
when the hurt is greater
than the desire
to do anything else
at all.
I'm not delusional
I know I’m sick
to think like this
but in hindsight it's
of no use here.
The matter of fact's
cannot take the power
out of my feelings
for her.
Xallan  Jan 28
Xallan Jan 28
If I had the right tools I'd show you
How empty my mind is, like a computer
That updates every few months,
Erasing all that data, any wisdom.
Deleted- motors still whirring
Fans still blowing upon the spinning
Of an empty disk, a blank hard-drive.
Ready to encode new preferences
New creeds, programming, ideations.

I am still searching for understanding
Of race, of society, of priorities,
Of gods, of worship, of labels,
Of love, of lovers, of choice
Of the parts of people they choose to reveal,
They choose to hide (their masks),
What they cannot choose to be, and
Cannot choose to show-
Of humanity- identity.

I don't get an opinion on any of that-
Try as I may, I will never understand.
I was born without an identity
And wisdom teeth, likewise,
I am not wise for lack of them
At least never need removal
For like wisdom teeth, the result
Of irritation is surgery, pain, and recovery
I skipped that, so that pain isn't real.
Caitlin  Apr 14
Caitlin Apr 14
Logic says to me,
"You've really gotten better!
You don't breakdown so often
You smile more."
Yeah, its the medication!

It says, "You handle things with grace
and don't fly off the handle.
You aren't so easily angered."
Yeah, its the medication!

                       It says, "Yeah, your emotions are foggy
                               but at least you aren't crazy.
                             I bet it's hard to feel things, but
                                you aren't crying all the time.
                           And you haven't collapsed in bed
                                           and begged to die.
                                  Or at least, its been a while."
                                   Yeah, its the medication.

                       "Why do you have tears in your eyes
                               and why aren't they falling?
               Does it feel like your chest is made of concrete?
              Like a sneeze that hurts but it just won't happen?
                    Can you feel the attack waiting in the corner
                    leaving you with dread and adrenaline?"
                                   Yeah, its the medication.

                                                    ­                          "Seroquel for seratonin
                                                       ­                            Buspirone to breath,
                                                         ­               and ****** to calm down.
                                                           ­               So what could go wrong?
                                                          ­          Is it bad to not be able to feel
                                      even though you know you have the right to?
                                                       And your chest feels heavy and full
                                                      like an awning with too much water
                                                         and you kind of want it to collapse
                           because you so badly want to remember how to cry
                                                And the blackness you were so afraid of
                                                              ­                            seems like home
                                                            ­                   and you're homesick?"
                                                      ­                      Yeah, its the medication.
Connor Sep 2018
Parting the stones ceaselessly
barraged by waves – Abyssal fireplaces
line my recent dreamscape in overwhelming numbers
all hungry & purveying the dirt of my forthright grave – I've had many
desperate attempts to climb your Mountain Tower, a fortress encrusted with seashells
glowing gates, halls which betray the laws of physics and stir trespassers into madness

I'm in the center of indefinite reprieve – a dark and shackled
sweat-bath keeps me from ascending

The Farther, my initial cause – defeated &
hush ! Slick the oil from exhausted wings – fallen protector/sublimated spirit -
as the Dominion I'd once mastered has been overtaken, now tasked at massaging
the unwashed swollen limbs of Sisyphus as repentance for my own behavior – but I have a fantastic balcony to be – Sicily, Spring – a date to attend/a death to disarm & appropriately
chain until such occasion draws me back to her

I am dark
and therefore substantial ! Terrifying ideations have ****** from my vein/The Pilgrim's onerous migration has revealed as much – Dracula thirsts in multitudes

“Life is simply a process of death and
devourment -”

Our purification is only lent to the existence of corruption. Neither can exist so long as  consciousness – specifically Ego – hasn't yet activated itself in the mind. So long as we are aware, there will be conflict in need of resolution, darkness to be expelled by light. Both are intrinsic to the other. In such a way, all division or conflict could be viewed as positive potential yet to be realized. The dragon yet to be slain

— The End —