stars are not eternal
they will go out
everything will become oblivion
all will swallow up the fog and gloom
and even our bright sky
and bright sun and rays
everything will go into darkness
everything will swallow up the fog

your eyes are blue
bright words bright words
beauty is all before us
everything swallowed up the fog
all the darkness will take with them

every ray of the sun
every ray of the moon
every ray of love
every ray of our love
everything will go down in the fog
everything will go into darkness
everything will sink into oblivion
everything will burn in the dark

aennij Jul 8
in the sea i tossed myself and pry,  
cause i know I'll eventually die.
i keep asking myself why,
i believed you for i know you don't lie.

my mouth was very arid and dry.
till it touched the sea sky.
death is nigh,  
the only thing i did was sigh.
depression was never a choice.
km Jul 8
The voices in my head, brought me to this place
A gloomy surrounding, everything looking lifeless and sad
I question myself, “Why am I here?”
But as I look ahead, I see a beautiful mountain; covered in fluffy snow,
Almost looking like the clouds.
Now, I am yearning to see the mountain up close,
But how do I get to see the best view?
With no one around, not even animals
Who do I go for, for advice?

I continue to look and walk around,
Still clueless, not sure what has drawn me to go on this journey
“It’s only a mountain,”
I tell myself.
Trying to figure out where the voices in my head came from
My mind is blocked
Can’t think straight or
See clearly
Everything is a blur.

Could this possibly be a dream?
I continue on with this journey
Trying my best to find a way to get to the snowy mountains
Tired and lifeless,
I pass out in the middle of nowhere
Flashbacks start to come
You were the voice in my head
Your harsh words,
Harsh words that brought me into this dark place
Left me feeling helpless and burdened
I get up and try to find a way out

Here I am standing, standing where I began
Looking at the mountain,
From where I’m standing, I question myself:
“Which way do I go?”
There’s the stream
A stream that’s aligned with the mountain
And the mountains with a path cleared out
Directing me to the snowy mountain.

The voices in my head
Preventing me from moving forward,
Drowning me with sadness.
The longer I’m here,
The more it overwhelms me
I’ve got to get out of here.
The snooze button
My morning companion
Why wake early
When you can delay ennui
For just a moment longer
Ten minute dreams
That seem to last
A lifetime until
It's too late

Hurry to work
The chair you hate
Hurry to work
The screen that stares
Hurry to work
Where no one cares
Hurry to work
The sooner to despair

Surrounded by walls that blind
The morning star
Surrounded by people who
Worship cupidity
Maybe I do too
That's why I am here
Sam May 30
Life. A metaphor for pain. Solemnly I watch as the skyline fades away. The horizon calls my name. Tempting my departure from this forsaken place. Whispering the words I so dearly need to hear. Alas, no shelter from the rain. Suffering forever. This twisted, endless, game.
b e mccomb May 10
the sun is creeping towards
the horizon under the trees
and a sliver of moon is
all that remains of night

my chest
is tight
with heavy
dull twinges

and though i always
long for things to break
up my monotonous routine
a funeral on a thursday
morning in spring was not
exactly what i had in mind

yesterday was recycling
to the curb and while i
ripped apart boxes a
staple stabbed my finger

the sight of blood only
increased the palpitations
under my skin and i've been
trying to forget it for twelve hours

trying to forget
what's coming
ignore the sense of
gloom pooling around
my ankles and the anxiety
wound round my wrists

i just have to make it
through the morning
into the afternoon and
then i can tell the racing
thoughts in my head to
stop what they're doing

and they will
obey me

would it be too much
just to ask for a hug?
copyright 5/10/18 b. e. mccomb
the worst part about funerals is that they aren't really for the deceased, they're for the living that are left
The nauseating humidity condenses into mellow rhythms of rain;
Feeling like your soft fingers on my bare skin, tingling my senses and easing their strain.
The fragrance of the night air, of the distant blooms, of the dewy earth;
Like the scent of your breath, of your breezy hair, of the soul that your body girths.
In my tiny world of short windy & sunny days, and long stormy & dark nights with sparkling rain, like stars, pouring down;
You walk in like a chromatic twilight, like sweet-scented dusk and dawn.
This gloomy room of mine is filled with the soft glow of the candle you lit;
With the flame flickering like my heart, and the melting wax dripping onto the floor like my regret and guilt.
The regret for not warning you about the fragile bridge between us;
And guilt for not stopping you when you tried to cross.
Like an utter coward, I didn’t jump to grab your hands when you fell;
Even if I kept on hurting you with words like stabbing your heart, you still spilled out a rainbow and stained me like an enchanted spell.
You’re like a beautiful melody to my deaf ears,
like tickles to my numb senses,
like a daybreak for my endless gloom.
Your sincerity dissolved my fears,
your sanguinity broke down my fences,
your ethereal affection made it a painless doom.
Thank you for not letting go even when I pushed you away;
For giving me eternal joy and taking in all my dismay.
Thank you, Sorry, and Goodbye.
Emmanuella Apr 27
Gloom rocks back and forth in that old rickety chair,
Weaving a noose in her lap when Perfection draws near
Singing a song of cheer.

"Hello, Gloom!" he greets.
"Hello, Perfection." Gloom greets.
"What may I do for you today?"
"No, Gloom." Says Perfection,
"What may I do for you today?"

Gloom sighs. "Well,
Your fingers will do well to weave this noose for me,
Won't they?"

"Aye! They will!
They will knot a noose so fine and well
It will be the finest noose ever woven!"

"Well, yes,
I suppose so.
Here, the noose.
Have a seat,
While I go to snooze."

And upon getting the noose,
Perfection weaved...
And weaved...
And weaved...

"Curse it! No good!"
I must unravel this!"
And unravel this, he did.
And his fingers went to work a while.

"Ahhh...look! A piece of fiber!
If not perfect, I will be seen a fibber!
I'll weave this again!"

"And again!"

"And again!"

"Oh, no!
Not quite yet.
Argh! my brow has broken a sweat!"
Time and time I have spent!
Why will this noose not be perfect?"

"Oh, Gloom...
Her work imperfect be
And now mine alike.
Oh no...
I cry. I cry.
I'll tie this noose and die!"
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