Haven't set up an alter In I dont' how many moons The few times I tried I truly knew the futility of it And understood That security, for me, is fleeting
Just another thing That seems so easy for the others Oh no dont applaud My baby brain for its Whining,ll just make it worse So the other day after I snatched the sage you left For me outside your window sill (Thank you btw)
I instinctively started Making YET ANOTHER ALTER Then broke down for the 5th time that day "How could someone like you ever deserve a home" Then I had remembered That Im not allowed to Have a safe space
I'm a drifter Pushing the limits My health is at risk Every minute No one to care Whether I die or live
Sitting on my hands In a thicket Praying wishing waiting thanking God that I woke still broken Throwing up stuff Everytime I tried to move
Hunger Hurt Thirst Hate Anger Thankful Stay low on your toes Heatstroke Dryheave Please No Please make it stop Oh god here it comes again My Sweat drips endlessly Chiggers bit my skin So it wont quit itchin'
Bites that bother until next week Typical.... All I want is a place to hang my hat Or hopefully lay my head without trip wires surrounding Me All I want is to oggle my alter and call on my angels and my God Without being on constant alert Watching my own six
Bc your own brother will turn on you Don't get comfortable Dont relax Dont unpack Dont believe A ******* thing they tell you Prove me wrong then
Haven't had a mfr not turn Haven't seen anyone actually keep their word
And why cant i set up an alter without it being destroyed?
My week has been hectic sporadic challenging. This poem was written in bits throughout the course of this week i realize im all over the place and my head space is caving in
a stranger points to a smoke sign and asks if i smoke; i say no now that stranger is a friend and my no is a sometimes and i wonder if it was a warning when he said that smoking was bad.
had i known, i would have answered the anxiety is worse and the cancer can't really **** me when i already feel dead inside. instead, i waved him off with a laugh that meant "i know. isn't it obvious?"
the rot caught up to me two years later, outside the same bar where i'd pestered another friend into putting down a box. it was a betrayal then, when i brought the sick to my lips and inhaled the poison. it was a betrayal again when he found out.
i tried to appease the scolding, argue that i've stopped smoking. would it be a betrayal now to say "i still think of rot and decay"?
Humanity is nearing it's watershed and yet the world still lays dying. We look to the stars for the future as the ground withers beneath our feet. Medicine is advancing constantly while people lay starving to death. Our world has a bigger economy than ever, with its abundance of manufacturing and ever progressing technology... Everyone could live free and in harmony with everything that we have achieved, but the poor are still laid to waste by the fat thieves and their machine.
I am crying Crying out in pain This suffering I feel There is no cure I am not heard I am screaming Begging for help Yet I am alone Writhing My bones are sore My mind is at its tether What can I do?
Maybe I am dying We all are A little bit everyday But this pain I am dying a little more What will it be? What will cause my end? My body or my mind Decaying Both are weak I cannot remember Ever being strong.
it let the bird fly, learn, grow, change. but when the bird falls, stays the same, decays, a thrill climbs up our bones as the crack of the wishbone echoes in our expectant ears like a loud, resounding gong - as our supposed fate awaits.
cracking the lines and curves of the sentences fall apart screaming the facade pleads to be rescued from this madness crying the entity shakes, and the world trembles along with it
worthless if you disappeared not a single person would make a remark unwanted an unlovable friend, for who wants someone burdened by sadness pathetic a stubborn fool, such that even death asks you to submit