I ain’t goin’ crazy no more!
There ain’t no point to It!
I have too much competition
I lack the energy
To compete with this new generation
Of  lunatics.
They’re a whole new level
Of Crazy.
I would never be able to challenge them
In their ascent
Of  the Insanity Throne.
SoZaka Mar 10
down in the depths
grimly it glows
amidst weeping willows
and a pond of minnows
love dimmed by sorrow and time apart

eternally it glows
amidst weeping willows
and time lost in thought
a dream I've yet to catch
amongst all the
minnows I've caught
Lux Falls Feb 25
The darkness warms me
A thick liquid covering my skin
engulfing every pore
Drowning all of my sins.

I couldn’t tell you what wings feel like
Or what a smile does to my face
I did it once and it felt foreign
But the wind swept it away
To float off as particles into the sky.

I laughed, it might have been yesterday
or a season ago
It didn’t penetrate into my soul
Nor did it let me inhale any pure light
Humans find it addictive
That bright drug.
you planted trees down my worries—
grew love in all of the places i was
too afraid to shine
and now a forest grows in all of
the corners your fingers got to know
and magic leaves are dancing to your breeze

someone once told me that curiosity kills the cat
and yeah maybe when you first smiled at me
i wondered where you had been my whole life

and i think that's where we went wrong

just like the nights you spent telling me words
in the way your language speaks them
while i spent all of my belief
on the movement of your mouth
being the key to my soul’s wildest dreams

but magic is made up of tricks

and you sure are the master at making me think the trees from your seeds were real
but lately the plastic leave have melted
from the fire you had rekindled in my heart

but even if the words weren't true
you gave me something bright and new
and i know we all are trying to be
the best versions of these humans beings
so i don't blame you
for being what you came here to be
because really i chose you
to come do these things to my heart
i prayed and hoped my way to manifesting you
to be there when i looked up from my lonely hands

but my god

if only you hadn't come into work that night
if only i hadn’t stumbled to that side of the beach
to that side of the planet
if only i had done one thing differently in my past
maybe just maybe then
i wouldn’t have fallen into the arms of lost hope
and maybe we would have never known
that magic could exist in strangers
that love can be felt at first sight
and everything occurring now
would feel real

but instead
i am walking through some kind of lucid dream
and i can't figure out what my room
used to feel like
because now it looks so unfamiliar to me
just like the person i am

i can't find her

what did you do when i looked up at you
some kind of unkind love spell
i just want to be free...

i want you

but you don't have the room
for someone like me
You wouldn't just leave,
that was never gonna be enough for you.

You wanted to drag my soul through the pits of misery,
have it's beauty carved on glass...
...because you knew just how easily it could break.

You wanted to take every part of me there was to take,
just so you could rip me to shreds...
...leaving me in pieces
that could never mend.

Little did you know that I was already detached from my being...
...the moment you thought you were becoming one with it.

That I was so estranged from the person you knew...
...because I was already becoming someone you would never get to know.

You took all there was to take,
not because you had that power over me,
but rather
because I gave up what was no longer necessary for my existence.
The beauty of pain is often found in acknowledging its lesson(s).
Caidyn Jan 26
To adolescent girls
We know infatuation as love.
A cute boy, paying attention and being kind
Unlike our mothers and fathers.
Or a handsome young man
Showing just enough distance, and disinterest,
That it is familiar, but we do not yet know why…
So the starving soul craves more, more, more.
So our stupid hearts say love, love, love.
I do not know about you,
But in retrospect I do not think that I loved these boys.

I would sit up late, plagued with an insomniac’s depression.
Thinking of these boys that had left me in the dust,
Commercials playing loudly over an old box television.
My impressionable brain unaware of the absorption of utter bullshit.
But the logical fallacies of consumerism and capital leaked into my psyche,
As I begged to be noticed.
Rebranding myself every so often
Once even under a different name.  Always new labels;
A cheerleader, an emo, a stoner, a scholar
Trying to find some sense of self,
Trying to sell my soul (subconsciously) for acceptance.

No one ever understood me like you,
And I dare to say, perhaps out of ego, that no one has ever understood you like me.
You've had friends for longer than me now,
You are happy, without me, clinging to your side.
Maybe you are understood once again
Maybe you are the chameleon that I once was.
Either way, I want you to be happy, do as you do.
Although I can no longer be the chameleon,
I cannot change my colors as life goes on around me, fitting in whatever life throws at me.
I feel old, I am deeply tired.  
I know that I am young, but I have seen too much.
I threw my life away for a self-titled happiness extract,
Isolation and degradation became all I knew.
Cynicism rose up inside of me, and when I heard the commercials I once fell asleep to
I decided that not only the advertisements,
But the world was bullshit.

I remember young adolescence,
I recall kisses and uncomfortable fondling in basement bathrooms and crawlspaces with these boys in which I thought that I loved,
That never cared for me like I cared for them,
Even so it was infatuation and not love.
I remember a kiss in your bed.
I remember the absolute terror when it occurred to me, years later.
I never loved anyone softly,
I loved viciously, desperately, and even loved just to cling on for life.
I loved you softly, I loved you dearly, I loved you deeply.
I always told myself it was platonic, but it was neither platonic or romantic.
I just loved you, like I had never loved anyone else.  Without fear, without sacrifice, without dereliction.
I did not realize this
Until a state-assigned therapist pointed out in the basement of the facility I resided
“When you speak of her, I see love in your eyes that I don't ever see.”
I hated her for that,
“Dumb bitch, I love writing, I love music, I loved Xander, I love my family!”
“But Caidyn,” she said
“I have not ever seen this kind of love in your eyes.”
It occurred to me then, and not until then
That when I held you, as you slept
In a hotel room after a concert
As infomercials bellowed violently into my soul
That I will never feel that sense of warmth, happiness and belonging ever again.
Not to say I won't find love,
But the innocence and naïveté
The faith I had, that we would escape side by side
And always remain side by side.
I know now,
That your first love
Never works out like that.

I dream of days where ridiculous advertisements filled my sleepy brain without judgement,
Because for any glimpse of hope I get
I am devoured by longing.
I remember how “everything is bullshit”.
And feel guilty for my bitterness.
I realize I am no longer young in spirit
I am not the demographic for any meaningless advert.
I am a forgotten human, not an outcast, but a memory to those I cared for.
I can no longer avoid it.
I think of when I held you,
and didn't even think anything of it.
shane Jan 17
maybe this is
all just a film.

an indie film
starring troubled teenage girls
finding out who they truly are;

a horror film
starring an ex-convict
being haunted by
his petrifying past;

a romance film
with cringy punchlines,
sly glances in the hallways,
passing notes during sessions,
a wink or a two.

what we had,
was no more than
a documentary.

the brusque strokes of color
writing the art of detaching one's heart
in a single streak,
overwritten by harsh
and rash decisions,
regret bursting
through the air,
the feeling of being torn apart
by the swaying wind,

the curtains
finally closed.
a bittersweet moment.
Em MacKenzie Dec 2017
Pack up my personality,
make sure the tape really sticks.
This home has been my totality,
every board and all the bricks.
Throw away my secrets,
we'll need a bag just for those,
and I hope I won't have to repeat this,
but I don't want those stains on my clothes.
The woman makes the threads anyways, I suppose.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
it gave me warmth and so much more,
when I was stranded it was my shore,
home is where the heart is, so says the lore.

Put away my memories,
in a box that's labeled "fragile,"
'cause even though they'll lift with ease,
I'd prefer for them all not to pile.
Throw away the forgotten fights,
the ones that always left the scars.
Make sure to only bring the nights,
with the brightest moon and stars,
but they won't fit into such small cars.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
where I sat dazed on the floor,
feeling high enough to soar,
home is where the heart is, but I'm lacking that core.

Store away my personality,
the one that fits me like a glove,
all the things that compile of me,
and illustrate all the things I love.
Throw away the parts of me that are broken,
I don't think I'll ever long for them,
but wait, maybe I've just misspoken,
cause that's the root of my twisted stem,
even a damaged jewel is still a gem.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
and there won't be twenty-four more.
It'll be the last time that I close that door,
I have no idea what's now in store,
home is where the heart is, but my chest is bruised and sore.

So say goodbye to Tower,
a street where once I walked each path,
where I knew each tree and flower,
and love's bliss and heartbreak's wrath.
Also say farewell to family,
well essentially it's only the dwelling,
but I don't know what life has planned for me,
as with the future there is no telling.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
there won't be twenty-four more.
It'll be the last time that I close that door,
I'll open a window to even the score,
home is where the heart is, but the beats feel like a chore.
I wish it could be more like Billy Joel's "movin' out" but Billy wasn't as bitter and sad as I.
Halfblood Nov 2017
my heart has been flipped upside.
it's bleeding grey.
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