RC - Hello Poetry

RC Dec 2014

Cope

I'm trying to bleed
running from scar to scar
searching for a rip
a trip in the seams
I'm fumbling with locks
and not enough keys
attempting to untie the knots
watching rotted stitches pop as I grip taut cuts and pull...
There's nothing there...
How the **** am I supposed to care
when I can barely bleed
But the chemicals rush too good
flush through my veins
leaving me breathless where I stood
and now I've left
too numb to sort feelings from the mess
But everything is so on track
every lesion every tear every hidden crack
fills in with pills
focus on the thrill
don't bother with the chills
I've gotta keep my head low.

Lost journal entry. PS bleeding does not always mean self harm. Interpret.

#pills #depression #drugs #past #change #numb #journal #coping #diary

RC Dec 2014

Campfire Eyes

Your eyes burn in eager greens
hazel upon inspection
little strokes of fire in between
Your lips part with intention
always standing by every word
I can feel sparks illuminate our contentions
but it was deviations of feeling we always seemed to have heard
Hands that want to hold but search for answers on my skin
kindled comfort in passion
felt their way in
You intoxicate every cell
and I'd rather not explain
how each excessive thought is a sweeter taste of hell
a simpler dose of pain.

#love #trust #passion #pain #hope #relationships #dark #hurt

RC Mar 2014

Ever So Often

I still find comfort in you
As if I have made a home in that crevice in your neck
You know
The space between your head and your heart
Where I'd place drunken admirations ever so often
And it always ended in my folly...
But no
I do not blame or hold you accountable to anything less than chivalrous
Besides your thirst for me
And the cup I'd lay at your feet ever so often
And now
My truths have led to false accusations of utter lust
But oh God it was more than that... ever so often.

I always end up writing about him.

RC Mar 2014

Vengence

Lights dazzled like frozen fireworks on the horizon
The night air wrapped around my fragile bones
And you were shown how life had stripped me bare.
But I rose above you
Laughed as misery tore the sides of my mouth into a frown
And I surprised you like I always used to.
Reveled in the controversy your thoughts were having
As the stitches I had once sewn in your heart un-knotted and fell apart.
I heard your veins screaming
Writhing as I stole their air
But for once I didn't care.
I hoped you drowned in your despair.

RC Feb 2014

drunken rant

i want so bad to feel the burn of his love set fire to the edges of my life
i want to feel his lips meet mine without the angst i imagine
and i want the rawness of our impulse to dictate our love
i want to guide his ******
and sip his lust
i want to dive into the fascinating parts of him
and linger in the shallows
the unsecrets of his mind
i want to not miss him and for him to love me again
i want to feel his finger tips trail every curve
every imperfection
and accept it as honestly as he did
i want to be accepted into love once again.

i want to not feel so badly for the words that meet others
and i want to not live in a shrouded fire any longer
i want to break and rip apart the routine with fury
and love as much
and feel as much
and live as much as I can
without my brain being bent relentlessly to the influence of substances.

only edited word mishaps. just rantng while sipping and yeah

RC Feb 2014

Two Exxtremes

It's this inner craving to be different that hurts
this impulsive fire
so desirous
so ravenous
so disastrous
I feel I've no chance at not reducing myself to ash.

Then there are those times where my fire blazes wildly
blindly
and blissfully.
It radiates, spilling light on anyone near
embers encapsulating and holding them there
and a certain grace falls over me
over us.

RC Feb 2014

The Sculptor

There is nothing beautiful inside me, anticipating its chance to bloom.
There is no reality behind the person
no girl waiting to be saved.
All that's destitute is left:
this shell of human skin that refuses to shed
my collapsing, one-track mind, wasting in its skull
the untried rawness in my heart, and its impotent beat.
I've tried my hand at molding my thoughts
just to see them harden and fracture
just to watch parts of myself leak
seep through every tense pore
and boil back down to nothing.
Sooner or later
these worn hands will grow weak from so much sculpting
and I will grow tired of my trade.