The black skies above opened up
and rain began to fall.

The rain drops hit me like
a stab in the back
and an unexpected attack.
I suddenly feel black.

I realize that I was only a shell
that pretended to be well.
I was a grown man in a boy
treating my own life like a toy.

The time has come for me to change.
The old me has gone
and a new me has come.

I was an empty shell with no reason of living.
Now, I'm a man seeking to make my own meaning.

I look up and see a clear sky.
It seems that my darkness has left without saying goodbye.

Audora 32m

you would crash over me into a
river of un-scathing emptiness

why am i like this.
why do you make me like this.
i've known you all my life.
my heart has learned to love your perfections and flaws.
i'm stuck.
i can't tell you.

you know, i've never really been good at this whole
"showing your feelings" kinda thing.
to be honest, if it weren't for a promise, i would never tell you.

it's too risky.
i don't want to lose you.
it's too scary.
you don't feel the same.

i know this.
you look at her with such tenderness.
why can't you look at me that way?

you speak so gently, softly for only you two to hear.
we used to do that.

you hold her like she's the only thing that matters to you.
is that true?

you showed her our spot.
i know you know what i mean.

the strange cave on the old hiking path, that led to a small cliff.
i know you did.

you left the wrapper behind.

you took my childhood and ruined it with her.

but i can't hate her.

she's too sweet, and loving, and kind.

so, you will never see this.
to be honest,
i'm glad.

but i don't know how to tell you,




meekah 1d

i hope you never have to know
the depth of my devotion
because to know
would be to understand
the emptiness you left in me
when you had nothing
to give back
and surely such
would eat you alive

we matched on tinder today and i'm upset

Am I here
Should I feel
I'm like driftwood
Amongst wuthering foaming waves
Upon which
Time is floating past myself
While I
To catch it and to
It slips out of my hands
Will it continue
Will it end
Am I so blank
I want to refill with
Dreams, colours, ideas
Are so far away and
Deep inside my soul
Just let me alone

Not all thoughts are articulated
by endless deception.
But, through these ideations
of sincerity, comes a depression.
A wizened mind gives way to
a lack of rapport with the one who hears,
the listener.
A perfect mirror, the speaker is always near,

“What side are you on?
What side are you on?”

Vexed by confusion,
the poor culprit of deception
is nothing but a bellicose invention.
What can it do but release dreary,
thoughts and ideas? The fear of seeing clearly.
The one who listens, must witness obsession
if they want to conquer their impaired
personality that lacks confession,
as it tries to ask,

“Whose side are you on?
Whose side are you on?”

saying "it" in the third to last line was intentional lmfao

The ghost of joyous bells ring out
Celebrating the turn of the millenium
Billions of absent voices shout
Into the skeleton of a past society

Dreams lie shattered
In the derelict, guilty future
Memories lie scattered
In piles of grey powder ash

Pools of radioactive water gather
In the stillness of great craters
Here once stood amazing things but after
Only gaping black pits in the shadows

Specks of dust are hunted down
By the relentless shine of the burning sun
They helplessly drown in the sticky air
Of the quietly infinite emptiness

This is the graveyard
Dug by the mightiness of human greed
The earth will be forever scarred and
We have only ourselves to blame.

We need to change!

In the heart of us are a set of bagpipes
that blows the beat of a drum
but is described as a hollow organ,
like one in a church that echoes deep whalesong
in the midst of a funeral.
Our mom had rules for visiting the newly departed, lest their spirits attach to ours:
Take home no food, or the dead will hunger.
Wash your clothes, or the dead will wear your skin.
Don’t go straight home, or the dead will follow.
Starved and naked, we wandered
through IKEA and nearby coffee shops
to deposit our lost and beloved friend in a final resting place
before heading home
our empty and quiet home.

I burn my hand on the fire
because I can’t tell what is real

The only color that can be seen
is the flicker of the flame
glinting through the fog.

Every way I turn is filled
with the emptiness left by the
smeared faces of former friends.

Reality of gray and lines
never filled in by the people
that were supposed to occupy the space.

I wave my hand across my face
checking the vision
that I see.

Never did it dissipate
cannot escape this weight

i’ve been thinking about
how to fill this
blank space,
to fill this
missing piece,
to fill this
hole in my soul
in my heart,
to fill this
tear in my heart
to finally mend this poor soul

how can i feel these spaces
these empty holes
these emptiness in my
if you,
your face,
your eyes,
your lips,
your smile,
your back,
your laugh,
the softness of your hair
and the cold spot beside me
in the bed
are the only thing i can
think about?

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