Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
your heart will not fail in space
it will be an object of its own mass
and gravity
no longer will there be a throttle in its vessels
and asynchronicity in its rhythms—
the beats, oh, the beats
your heart, when it is in space, will only wait
for an entity
to be jettisoned from a shuttle

my oxygen is running low
i love you to your heart and never back
Julia Celine Jun 2021
Like dust in the wind
I'm the tiny particles
Following in your footsteps

Like small talked words
I lay forgotten
Upon your restless lips

Still there but not quite there
I seek out
Some important form

Like dust in the wind
I'm scattered
Spread too thin across your floor
KyleB Apr 2021
I hear it
Again and again
I do not “function“
Like the rest

Every day
Is a battle
Will I hurt?
Will I move?
Nonetheless, I have to function

Even when I can‘t

I eat pills
For breakfast
Like greed personified
I swallow them - I do not chew.

I eat pills like candy but how can I help it?

My body is aching
My muscles are trembling
Is this addiction
Or is this dependence

How am I different
From someone who cant
Live without drugs
Because it causes them pain
When I eat my candies
To dull my agony

I eat pills like candy
I must be a sweet tooth
Yet I don‘t enjoy it
But others believe that I have to
Mico Aug 2020
How much sadness

To need someone

Just to **** some presence

To eat some beauty

To fear loneliness

Is a lustful decadence

Slowly dying

In evidence
Em MacKenzie Jul 2020
No one could ever dream to have you beat
in self destruction, self pity and defeat,
it’s almost bittersweet.
But you get by, it’s you not I,
you get by with a plan to only die.
Yes you get by, with any chance to cry,
never noticing another’s sigh.

You know with all the licks you’ve been taking,
we’re both surprised that you’re still waking.
Oh and with the hits you’ll keep taking,
don’t be surprised that you’re still shaking.

Let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
slam our heads together; we’ll forget if not solve them.
So what’s your story you’ve got for me today?

I am no stranger to your sad tales,
though you push them right off the rails,
and my own attempt is exempt and always fails,
I’d have better luck pitching them as sales.
As you’d get by, just for a high,
only to try with your plan to die.
Yes you get by, it’s always you not I,
claiming life’s got you in it’s eye.

You know with all the kicks you’ve been taking,
it’s a wonder you’re still not breaking.
Oh and all the tricks you’ve been making,
are you shocked we think you’re faking?

Let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
you act the saint and cast I as the goblin.
So what’s your story, exaggerated allegory, today?
Let’s cut right to the root of the issue,
my hands are full but do you need a tissue?
I’ll say sorry, just ignore me and what I have to say.

So open up the bursting flood gate
direct the flow to where I seem to wait,
it’s truly my ears that suffer the most,
I abandoned thought not my post, though I now am late.
But you get by, and still yet defy
magnify on your plans to die.
You’ll always get by, call it a lie,
focusing on rain ignoring you’re dry.

Oh with all the trips you’ve been taking,
It’s no surprise you’ve been strongly flaking.
And with the drips and the lies that have been caking,
you can’t comprehend anyone else aching.

So let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
I’ll start a list and another separate column.
So what’s your story, for attention or glory today?
Let’s cut right to the root of the issue,
hands on your neck and checking your wrist too,
it’s mandatory and obligatory, but morally grey.
Amaris Dec 2019
My mother calls out,
Carry me; I need you to take me home.
I'm only three years old
I can barely walk on my own
I shoulder her hands, bigger than my face
I slip and slide on the ice, afraid to fall
I can handle bruises and scrapes
But not if mommy falls too
Gritted baby teeth, frozen tears on cheeks
I rip off the fluffy pink coat, it's too hot
Is she helping at all?
The front door seems too far away
Just a little further, I'll be home soon
Then I can let go, maybe grow, and get up the courage to say
I don't need you, like you needed me
I've walked a steep path and now I'm stronger
I will not carry you any longer
Julia Nov 2019
my neckbones decayed
from lack of use
but I didn’t mind
if my head could lay
blissfully in your lap

you melted away
leaving my mind
to rot in mud
like the texture
of dependence

I will grow new bones
in a garden long neglected
teeming with life
just waiting for light
once buried
out of fear
I might **** it

I will bloom
with a new sense of self
of my prolific potential
with head held high
by homegrown bones
I will never let die again
EmperorOfMine Oct 2019
Words clot in my throat
My brain can't remember what it wrote
My heart is on its last leg
My soul lost its will to beg.

What a lesson that I did learn
Everyone is an angel until it's their turn
A way is a wall when the waves break the ground
Life is a lesson where your way up is down

Picked potently poisoned
A chosen way to be sentenced
Sweet mercy, where'd you ever go
learned for a point for dependence.
Dependence ≠ weak
Independence ≠ strong

Too much of anything and be used wrong.
kiran goswami Aug 2019
I tried to write about the tricolour today,
I lifted the pen and spilt the ink on the paper,
the paper was white, white as in the tricolour
the spilt ink was navy blue, navy blue as in the tricolour's wheel.
I then dripped my hands in it,
my hands too became navy blue as I wrote the word 'INDEPENDENCE'
But that word did not belong to me, not to us, not as yet.
The 'Independence' I proudly talked of,
the sacrifices I mentioned,
were all foreign.
they were all spoken and written not in my language but in somebody else's.
I took two seconds to write 'INDEPENDENCE'
and eight seconds to write on my own.
I then realised we're caged and perhaps this time we don't wish to free ourselves anymore.
Two 'teardrops' fell and it became 'DEPENDENCE'.
well, even the tears were foreign and so was the mind.
I crushed the paper that looked foreign too,
and sat on my desk reading about my language.
So that next time when
I try to write about the tricolour,
I write in my own tongue.
Next page