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O heart, soul, core, me:
If I do exist,
I am exactly pristine in condition
Under the surface of a pond
Frozen in eternal ice.

O want, wish, will, dream:
The ice that denies life,
Sapping its oppressive strength,
Transforming its innocent weakness;
Making brittle the bold,
Making hard the soft.

O form, frame, flesh, face:
The palm of my hand
Is spread against the bottom of the ice,
Reaching up as though to grasp
All the nothing I aspire to.
how cold is the beauty and perfection of appearance
Internal journalist
Pitiful moralist
Brave declarations
Cleverly made

My words are a weapon
An army attacking
Myself - but my friendships
Are casualties laid
Psych Ward Poetry
Set 6, Poem 5
Mariah May 26
I love
I hate
I yearn
I ache

The pain
The chase
Eyes and ears and taste

The hands
That shake
Making love to my mistakes

Regret
Remorse
Embracing my own corpse

Change
Sorrow
Waiting for tomorrow

Paranoia
Trust
Drenched in pixie dust

Manic
Placid
The future's dipped in acid

Hope
Unrest
Bricks inside my chest

Friction
Freedom
Lies that I believe in

Tears
Laughter
Curate my own disaster

Chalk
Frost
Skin made up of moss

Tide
Concrete
Death before retreat

Time
Space
Stuffed inside a case

Fraud
Truth
The difference between the two

"I'm fine"
It's true
And if you actually knew
What could you even do?
I'm sick. I'm sad. Thank god.
You know, it's been rough.
I lost my girl, my job, my car
And I never was enough.

My refuge is gone and my heart remains yearning
But after all this time I'm still just learning
I just wish you didn't have to be a life lesson

There are two lives in my head
One is still with you
The other is dead.
This is gonna be my last one for a little bit, just need some sleep.
pilgrims May 14
I’m a rainy day parade.
A parade that was rained on
but decided to play anyway.

Neither the rain nor the parade is a charade.
Rather, the rain is Kool-Aid and the parade is a wall
of a bar.
I’m on the other side looking far



too






gone.
I sob and blub between a racket of thunder and brass.
Every emotion I feel feels crass.

Alas, are these drops tears or rain?
My life is a metaphor for itself.
Is that irony or plain?
Maybe they were drops of Kool-Aid.
Old poem. Kind of silly.
Mariah May 9
I love when I feel happy
It comes around constantly
More often that it may seem

When they see my face
They feel a cold embrace
When in actuality
I welcome all emotions equally

Its usually just my fear
That causes how I may appear
Like a spider or a bee
I fear you much more than you do me  

And if you were to hear me speak
You'd find no tongue and cheek
I offer my olive branches
Quiet earnestly

And even though I may hibernate
And my fear eventually
takes over me
I always in the end
Feel the burning under my skin

I love in bursts
Its violent
And it can hurt
But I love
I love I love I love

I love being happy
So happy I bounce off the walls
Off of you
Off of the mountains
Until it echos  

I love being sloppy in my joy
I love leaving a mess
I love when it's overjoy
And I love the overkill

I love being so happy
It runs out completely
And the car in my heart sputters
And stops in the middle of the road

I love walking to the next gas station
With my shoes in my hand
Feeling exhausted
Like I could never love again

But nevertheless
I always seem to find
The next station
And I refuel
And I can go again
Sorry I am getting tired so it might not be good but it's honest I am in a happy mood swings and I could throw things about it
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