Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mariana 15h
i used to write
poems about you
all the time
you didn't know tho
(you didn't know my love)

but it worked
out for us two
didn't think
it'd be different too
(different from the others)

so i wrote
and i wrote
then i stopped at last
now i can say the words
now i can finally say it to you
i love you
I have no guidence.

Searched on every summit
for some lost elusive cure,
and for the alchemy to make
me feel like I was pure.

Violently, I've torn through
the marrow of all I am,
begging every single deity
I've known for their hand.

I have no peace.

Maybe healing will never surface,
Maybe muffled by the sand.
A doctrine for the hopeful,
Who will never understand.

Wounds have always held
Daggers that were never removed.
What if pain protects the heart
Because it never is renewed?

I have no harmony.

Singing broken hymns can birth
another's hymn of praise.
Unspoken cosmic laws that state
Examples must be made.

I am never truly broken,
I can wish to be in time,
But I remain a quantum sonnet,
That is void of any rhyme.

I have no exit.

Maybe there is grace that lives
Within my wilted plea.
In knowing, I'm exactly
Who I knew I'd always be.

In a life of pulling chains,
Tethered to a hopeless mind.
What is left within a soul,
To see a purpose that's divine,

Without the residue of ash
From embers charring bone?
Without emotions echoes,
That have turned it into stone.

The cold sweat of empathy
For the fellow misbegotten.
Or wihout the twitching nerves
Of a body that is rotten.

I have no dreams.

I cannot find belief in me
For false restoration.
No longer a beggar for
A hollowed-out salvation.

I walk with aching fractures
To a rapture born in rust.
A fate I feel deep in my core,
That all is made of dust.

I have no reasons.

What's the purpose
For this riddle I weave?
Is there truth in what remains,
Or is truth in what will leave?

As I stand, a withered body,
weeping now without a plea.
I am all I ever was,
All I've known I'd ever be.

I have no future.

Just know, it's not your fault.
No, It's not your fault .
The Mind betrays the heart.
But no, it's not your fault.

It's not like you could know.
Paths you were meant to walk.
All paths will over grow.
Being lost is not your fault.

Your human form stays lost.
The soul will pay no cost.
It's created to bathe in light.
No darkness is your fault.  

Oars ****** you toward a call.
You'll get weak, and you'll stall.
The sea will never calm.
No struggle is your fault.

Know that it's not your fault.
Your heart takes all the shots.
It's running from your mind,
And no, It's not your fault  

For, all will over grow.
The sea will never calm.
And no, it's not your fault.
Just know, it's not your fault.

©

Derek Abraxas

"The Quantum Bound Poet"
With embered wings, I pierce the blackest night,
A solar mass morphing into a black hole.
Each atom in my blood prepares to ignite,
Reflecting the true divine shape of my soul.

In the corridors of my own thought, the senses drown.
The mind painting prisms bleeding photonic rain.
No boundary here to hold me. In moments, I'm crowned.
In this kingdom of chaos, sculpting solace from pain.

I stand before the mirror of my own trembling soul.
A sovereign spark lives, who dares to hope it can heal.
A voice screams, that " One who has shattered his mold,
Transcends the one; fragments of being, each their own whole."

Pulses turn to diamonds, forming as the words on my tongue.
Minutes stretch — now endless lifetimes yet to be discovered.
I taste each shard of feeling that my heart has overcome.
My sorrow and my joy open, remaining uncovered.

My dreams, my faulted mind, like ones we called under-wrought.
Their eyes, constellations, like the ones we used to trust.
Chemicals react, dispersing waves, like songs we forgot.
Solitude and isolation bleed with each melodic gust.

And in the hush of afterglow, I wield my clean knife,
Open up my wounds till they reveal my true hidden name.
And from this crucible of pain, is born a new life.
My infinite flame burns as both the wild and the tame.

Following voices of shadows, divine potential’s own choir.
Their hymns — the portal to my soul yet to be embraced.
Chains bind me to perceptions, but for now, I'm more like fire.
Forging quantum bound waves, binding purpose to my fate.
Crossing the ocean of endless stars
Will you be there waiting for me,
Or do I have to still my heart
And antagonize the entire nature of my character.

Opened feelings, no fear at all
I took out the deepest part of me
And bathed in your light,
Only for you to shove me back into the endless ocean of void.

It was the scent of the sea that opened the memory,
Where sunlight blurred my vision, and I saw you
Tall, dark hair, eyes that charm,
And a smile that negated everything wrong in my world.

I wish the story wouldn't end.
I have to walk back into the cairn of insecure souls,
Wandering aimlessly, pondering what they did wrong
In this life or the next.

I dream of escape, of finally leaving the void behind.
Written from within my own void of helplessness
There is an ache that folds
like paper
soaked through,
crumpled in the cold,
collapsing
centre
of me.

With nothing more than a whisper,
it returns,
as if just moments before
I suffered this mortal injury.

Its power unbound—
ready to consume me
if I let it.

Some days,
I beg this ache to vanish,
leave me hollow, free.

It guards me from healing,
a quiet, faithful dog,
licking old wounds
to keep them open.

I sink into this quicksand of memory,
then fossilize in grief’s amber—
trapped, not treasured.

How can I let it go,
when its grip
is all I have known?

And yet, I breathe it still,
not by choice,
but because forgetting
would mean losing the last of it.

I move through sorrow’s veil,
a torn page curling on wind,
almost-free.
For anyone who’s ever found it hard to let go of what once was.
I left an earring on your nightstand
like a dare,
like a dog whistle only I could hear,
like a lie I could almost live with,
like a warning you didn’t read.

You wrote me like you were killing time.
I let you.
I was tired—
tired of being the intermission
between things you actually wanted,
tired of holding out my hands
just to catch the sound of you leaving.

It was raining the next day.
Of course it was raining.
The whole city smelled like last chances
wrung out in the gutter,
like a bouquet dropped
when someone realized it wouldn’t change anything,

You said,
"Take care of yourself."
And I did—
by breaking every mirror
that still showed me your mouth,
by smashing every reflection
that looked like hope.

There's a version of me
still waiting at that train station—
wearing the wrong jacket,
gripping the wrong book,
mistaking longing for directions,
carrying promises like ballast.
I'll know it's you
by the way my spine recognizes the disaster
before my eyes do.

I hope she never learns.
I hope she keeps looking up every time the wind shifts.
I hope she believes in arrivals.
Even when no one steps off.
𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍  𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝,
𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝.
𝚀𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚖 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜;
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕’𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝.

𝙴𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎,
𝙸𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌, 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚠.
𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎,
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠.

𝚄𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚎,
𝙳𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍,
𝙸𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕, 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚎.

𝙰 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔.
𝙰 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚜.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔,
𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊  𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚎, 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍,
𝙱𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎.
𝙰 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍,
𝙰𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎.

𝙽𝚎𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚜, 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝,
𝙱𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝,
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏, 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 to 𝚏𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜.

𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚌,
𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎.
𝙼𝚢 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔,
𝙰𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜.

𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎,
𝚆𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚝.
𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎, 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍,
𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍,
𝙱𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊’𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.
𝙸𝚝𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋e 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚎𝚍,
𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚝, 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒n 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎.

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚍𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍.
𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚖y 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎, 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗,
𝙻𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚏𝚜.

𝙸'𝚖 𝚊 𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚟𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚛; 𝚊 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚡,
𝙽𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚎;
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 lays 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝,
𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎.

𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍, 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗,
𝙸𝚗 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚟𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚜,
𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐s my 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜.

𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝,
𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝?
𝚀𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚖 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝,
The 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕’𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦
"𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚀𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚖 𝙱𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝙿𝚘𝚎𝚝"
There was stillness, all was held in place.
Untouched beneath the world’s design.
Particles drifted in quantum space.
Slates unmarked by hand or time.

Trauma struck as it cracked, it would stir.
The mind betrayed and the self, unmade.
A tremor passed like my whispers slurred.
And from my depths, the void would invade.

fractured pulses spread and came apart.
The fixed quantum law began to bend.
Reality unravels, alongside the heart,
broken strands of thought began to descend.

Screamed echoes take a visual shape.
Waves collide in the fractured pulses.
What once was whole, begins breaking down.
Protections kept, now stripped from their holsters.  

Energies spin untethered, unbound.
The self just dissolves, with no grip to keep.
The sky starts crying with quantum sound.
as shadows stretch by a time growing deep.

The mind, a mirror, shattered and gold.
Reflecting a new empty void from within it.
Each thought disperses and shatters its mold.
Where once was trust, now grows resentment.

A field of force has been left unstable.
Blackening a heart that is no longer true.
Where once was love, now hate fragmented.
The self, adrift. Forced to weather through.

In my withering thought, the echoes still roam.
Their dreamscape heaven has been swept away.
The pulse of life now hardened to stone.
My silhouette dwells in the shades of gray.

And still when my skies cry with quantum sound,
The whimpers of essence frowning frail and thin.
The hope that was pure can no longer he found.
The self is restricted from all it might have been.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦
IMCQ Apr 27
I tended a garden once,
behind walls too low,
in a pasture too wide.

The vines reached for strangers
with reckless kindness,
begging to be named beautiful.

You came with smoke clinging to your sleeves,
promises falling from your mouth,
and I, fool that I was,
welcomed you.

With greedy hands, you plucked petals,
stepped on seeds meant for tomorrow,
your breath embers against my harvest.

The skies darkened.
The rivers boiled.
The orchard withered from root to leaf.

And there I stood,
ash stuck to my skin,
silence heavier than stone.

I stayed to bury what you left behind:
The wilted vines,
the broken promises,
the ruined songs.

From the shattered soil,
I built a citadel from broken things.
It stands, heavy and hollow,
Strong enough for silence to live inside.

I am no longer waiting
for careless hands to stumble upon me.
I do not open gates for ghosts.
I hope their hands break before they knock.
Don't worry, I only bite hard enough to break the skin.
Next page