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"Freezing Pain"
I keep running in circles,
What happened to miracles?
The state done took the baby away,
I have no more strength to pray,
I'm tip-toeing over broken bottles,
Still alive after many throttles,
Trying to numb this freezing pain,
I can't flush these pills down the drain,
All of them I could swallow,
Your happy but I wallow,
No, can't say I wish you the best,
Your sleeping with her yet I can't rest,
She's gonna throw you away like trash,
And then you'll come running back in a flash,
Don't bother I have nothing left to give,
This insanity gives me no reason to live,
Don't bother trying to come back to my bed,
Because I will already be dead. ~ Night Writer
Fiction. It's a mirrored reflection of the reality that some people live in. I call the real world. The real world, where the ones who think they do know no work, doesn't exist. A very true and sad life for some people. Give or take, making variations to what I have written here. Often when I write of such things, People that don't know me assume that I'm writing about my own circumstances. Like when I write about relationships, so many people assume that I'm writing about current events in my current relationship. Sometimes what I do write is from the pain that I've experienced throughout my lifetime. When I write on dark subjects, the friends that I have of whom live upstanding and ethical lives often scold me of how others might interpret that I have a dark soul. And/ or it's a reflection of my spiritual beliefs as well as theirs. I explain, that I often write about the real world to shed life on things as such. Same as when I write on controversial topics, esp most recently, I've been labeled as Anti-American, Anti-God, anti this and that. Pro or radical extremist in the same. I explain that I write on controversial topics where I'm swaying against popular opinion. I explain that, I do this not at all revealing how I personally believe but to speak from all sides with an open mind. And that I just like to reach different genres of audiences. Also to make others think deeply about what I researched for a particular write up so they will tear apart my every word causing themselves to look into it more deeply.
   Maybe, I should just quick explaining myself, quit changing my pen names and just write freely because I can. 04/18/2018 my diary notes.
have you lost
something
in my
box

listen sweetheart
love don't rattle
let's fresh
start
love
ain't
no
battle

war with me
laugh at me
let me
be
no
bodys fool

test me
together we can
ride the rim
of
your
mothers
tea cup
let me
shine
on
you
this
diamond ring
you have persuaded me



out
of
my mind
what mind
?























...
..
.
give me
your
mothers
broken wine
...
Jas Jan 2018
In the dusk of war
Of my own personal battles
That seethed and wailed,
uprooted from the ground
Like weeds beneath the shallow mulch
Did my own fears come to fruition,
Seeds nestled between memories
Suckling on life as soon as it enters me.
Joy,
Though rare and bleeding
Did spill into my life
At the same moment more people arrived -
Those who would do the cleaning
"Oh, come now," they said
For I'd been mulling about in
My own person,
Not as much as I'd been swimming in
A glass of Merlot and cherry wine;
For I'd drowned in a solution so pure before -
All besides the sting and reverberating warmth of
The lord in my glass
Would be toxic for me.
Nonetheless,
All else must be choked down willingly
And the audience an unworthy witness.
sage Jan 2018
my only love was created by hating yours.

i hated your happiness, and that brought me to a place of destruction,
where i spent late nights drowning in the thoughts of you.

in those hours, a lover took my hand and brought me away from myself,
to a place where happiness existed without empty bottles.

and then you found my happy with jealous green eyes,

and then you took it all from me in a matter of seconds,
pretending your love was more than mine could ever be.

and it was easy for you,

because i was a cynic.

and no one could change that.
the story of losing love to an enemy.
sage Dec 2017
temporary happiness is ruling my life,
with each empty bottle scattered through my room.

leaving me in ignorant bliss
to what i had been feeling before i swallowed.

it's all a haze,
before and after the liquid.

all smiles,
before and after the pills.

dancing dreams,
in the midst of the smoke

i haven't slept a wink,
or maybe i have.

it's so dangerous,
to live in this fake life.

but the intricate workings of my mind
aren't allowing me to let go

of this
temporary
mundane
imperminant
fleeting

happiness
let me realise that i'm killing myself
Asonna Aug 2017
A sea of brown and green lay at my feet,
with subtle movement i can hear them clink.
Some are empty, some are unfinished.
But for right now it doesn't even matter.

Stained cheeks of watered ink,
Salt that's mixed with sadness.
A heart of pain, a lifetime's worth.
Filled with remorse and regret.

Embers burn your words of love,
it's right there in the fire.
with a broken trust, pages are torn,
like I never even mattered.

My fingers, cold, only at the tips
as I clutch the final letter.
turns out you were no good for me,
and I was no good for you.

the spaces where things used to be,
all silhouetted from dust.
this place that once belonged to us
is now home to me and my bottles.
Brianna Jun 2017
I'm typing in lowercase letters but dreaming in capitals.

i'm swallowing pills and alcohol to numb the pain hoping for solitude in a bottle.
you're cute, i think?
sitting over there at the bar staring at me like i could be someone you want to get to know.
you're cute, i think?
but baby, i'm just a drunk girl at a bar taking too many drugs to even care about what your name is so please stop talking.

you slide over a glass of scotch, neat and cold, disgusting as i drink it down.  
you keep talking about how pretty my eyes are and how cute my hair is and where'd i get that nice dress and why is a cute girl like you at a bar all alone.
please... stop talking.

your hand is creeping up my thigh, and I'm too numb to stop you
the pills are kicking in and you are starting to look like him...
If i drink a little more maybe i can stomach going home with you and drowning my pain with lust.
but for the love of god, please stop talking.

he left three months ago, took his clothes and a toothbrush and headed out.
he kissed my cheek... he said he'd be on the next train home as soon as he could and left with no explanation.
he's married now.
his kids are cute.
he named one after me... which is disgusting and i wonder if his wife knows.

you are still there... wonderful.
i take one last swig of liquor and grab your hand; stumbling from the bar and slurring my words.
i laugh, because it's cute when girls laugh right?
you smile -- and i really can't tell are you ugly or not?
who ******* cares.

i'm typing in lowercase letters dreaming in capitals.
i'm going to go home with this man and pretend he's you.

cheers to drowning out the noise in lust and liquor.
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