Burrowed intimately in my own sedacious eclipse,
I awake mid day, soaking up our heavy and expected frivolities.
As I sip from my cup, the soft silk slithers down my throat.
Unable to sustain a direct state of such, it eats at me like a disease.
The tingeling heat that wraps around my tired lips, ignites the yearn of more.
With each bat of black beneath my eyes, I shiver as I am endowed by everything that it yours.

Take me.

The squattter people outside
The boring noise inside the house
The four sides of my room
And the me who is tired to all of it

As a child,daughther and sister
I'm ready to throw it all
Just to be able to leave in this place
I am tired to all of this

I feel locked in
Even if I want, I can't do anything
Everything in here bores me
A bored feeling that slowly becomes a hatred

I don't want to hate all of you
But you are making me to
Maybe is it because of me?
Or everything happened that involves me?

I'm not being a brat
But I always feel sad
In this house, I don't feel belong
Maybe because the responsibilities are shouting at me?

"You can't escape"
They always told me
But I can
I'll find an another way.

I just want a quiet place
That only me and me will feel safe.

The drama is Korean and called "Save The Last Dance For Me."  I loved it until the final episode.


(sonnet #MMMMMMDXIII)


I watched those silver curtains whose thin veil
Down in the valley blotted trees with thence
But ghostly figures 'hind thet rainy sense
Of nowhere, while the greener Maples' tale
Just whispered on this hilltop like to scale,
And thought dreams were too pretty hence
Wrapt up with love in those refrains, til whence?
But how we punished these in sheer betrayl.
La.  Why must even dramas skew in poor
Excuse the heroine?  She suffered to
Effect and then some, 'til when fin'lly fer
All that they had all, she was crippled through
The villain.  Wherefore must we ruin as twere
E'en that?  The rain gone, midnight glowrs, deep blue.

23Jul17

she is a carafe of reverb
that broach a top in quarters now
this tray makes her wedding day
while her make up dries her tears
with skins regale there with the bells on
as her blossom is newly squib

Her love was electric,
He could sense it in the air in that second,
It was her taunting green eyes,
That he saw her forever in his life.
Perhaps it was just the *** talking,
But as she kept walking,
He knew he was stuck under her love spell,
She was an angel sent from hell.

Oh, her love was electric,
That his heart became infected.
Oh, how could of this happened?
This love that he never imagined.
She ruled his kingdom,
She had become his heart's rhythm.

His love had become electric,
Now they're souls were connected.
She fell for his taunting hazel eyes,
That she saw him forever in her life.
Perhaps, it was all fantasty,
But he had become her gravity.
But she needed to capture him under her love spell,
To save her from hell.

Oh, her love was electric,
That his heart became infected.
Oh, how could of this happened?
This love that he never imagined.
She had ruled his kingdom,
She had become his heart's rhythm.

Her love was electric,
And his love became electric.
Their souls had become the champagne,
That the stars could not contain.
Their souls emerged into the sea,
Ruling over the world so the people could see.

Oh, her love was electric,
That his heart became infected.
Oh, how could of this happened?
This love that he never imagined.
She ruled over his kingdom,
She had become his heart's rhythm.

She is loved. She is stubborn
Mad at that part of the world
That loves her
For loving her
Without asking first

She never asked for this
Though the space between her lines
Already did

Those words
Those traitors
How dare I
Understand with
my heart

She needs to need
She wants the thirst
The hunger, the craving
The needing, the yearning,
The lack at its worst

She wants
none of the learning;
Only the burning
That gives her the thrill
The stinging,
The near-numb
Throbbing
In every flutter
Between every pulse
Through every string

Giving her is
Taking from her
Would it work in reverse?



She is loved.
Stubbornly denying it.
Fearing her happiness.
Banishing the ones who care.

Because her happiness
Potentially could mean
Not having things
to write about
It equals change
And breaking out the zone
Of torturous comfort



I’m afraid of what she seeks
And how she sees those burning curls
And what she does with sparks
And why she fosters embers

I’m scared the most
Of her using flames divine
To burn herself inside
A dark obsession
That swallows every light

*

I’m afraid she seeks love
So she could hurt herself with it
She uses it
As a means to an end
The end being the feeling
Of being hurt
So the ashes of that
Would be her ink
Fuelling her pyre
Of
“behold the beauty of suffering”

Just as a heads up to any of you readers it may concern, I'm abandoning both projects in the header. The Drama of Miriam Marcus is something you may see pop up again, either in its original form, or perhaps as an entirely different project.

Dark Spells was a project born out of the recurrence of a common, deep depressive state that finds me time and time again, one you may notice without my saying. While I often romanticize themes of depression, anxiety, paranoia, self-loathing, and self-destruction, I must point out that I do so because I'm bound to these feelings regardless of stagnation, regardless of agitation. I romanticize my illness simply as a means to survive, as a means to still feel fulfilled as a human despite the haunting emptiness.

That said, recent developments in my personal life have unchained me suddenly, and I'm overwhelmed with the need to embrace the misplaced. Concepts like happiness, curiosity, and wonder are once again nearly tangible. As such, a project as thematically troubling as Dark Spells is not currently a possibility.



TL;DR:
Yo thx for reading. ****'s about to get a little lighter, a little softer, a little warmer. I succcc.