Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
one word depicts the deep and hollow feelings unto which the human senses cannot touch.

teardrops flowing down her cheeks.
words too hollow to even speak.
eyes that are no more but once proud.
surrounds you when alone and finds you in a crowd.
dissipating footsteps of a departing friend.
wishing for everything to just end.

it'll not listen to the pleads of the broken heart.
it'll stay and torment until anew comes and shatters it apart.

while we wait for hauntings to befall.
one word. loneliness. represents all.
Being alone does not implicate loneliness, and vice versa.
tc Sep 2018
i feel the wind whistle
through my hollow bones
as they crack gently beneath
the weight of a single shudder -
i am a bird
manifesting free-flight
to find a one-way ticket out
of this brick-box.
i should be grateful
i wake up in sleepy sheets
every morning but all i
can smell is the scent of
another bad night’s sleep -
i tell my soul “i’m sorry”
because it inhabits a body
unsure how to appreciate it
to its fullest, a body content on
harvesting thoughts dark enough
to make life’s flowers wilt.
there’s no sunlight here.
this hollow flesh breeds
hollow veins, keeps a heartbeat
rattling back and forth in
this hollow chest.
tell me how to make a song out of
something that sounds like death -
teach me how to see free-flight as
more than something you do off
the top of a building, or a bridge,
or on to railway tracks when
gravity insists on keeping you down.

i tell myself “i’m sorry,” kiss the
bruises behind my eyes goodnight
hoping i’ll wake up and one day,
they won’t be so heavy.
i am still fighting everyday.
Eleanor Sinclair Sep 2018
I do not wish to be dead
But I feel as though there's nothing left
You slipped through my fingers like water
And splashed to the ground like the blood of a lamb at the slaughter
I begged you please to stay here
But you decided to let go at almost our third year
I cried to you and was vulnerable
You sat there dry eyed, comfortable
What more can I say except I miss you
I hold on to your shirt and beg to kiss you
But with no success again I digress
A friend of mine called me today
Crying about her boy and I told her what to say
I stayed composed and showed no sorrow
I was at her side so she could live through till tomorrow
But what a hypocrite I must be
I stare at the metal against my pale skin in envy
I told her to hold her heart on her own
I insisted that no matter what she's never alone
I hung up 12 minutes later and burst into tears
I wish I could take away her pain and all of her fears
But could anyone say the same for my troubled soul?
Today is the day I broke and am no longer whole
I am trying to search for my broken pieces
Like the Shikon Jewel they're scattered and the distance increases
You are free from your obligations to me or my world
I'll lay in my bed hungry, tearful, and curled
No motivation I wake up just to sleep
My emotions are thick and their rivers run deep
You course through my veins like a potent pain killer
Or maybe like lidocaine acting just as a filler
The pain is still there but I can't feel it now
My body is numb and all feeling is gone, how?
I could get used to the feeling of emptiness
I could learn to like my hollowed out chest
Some are designed to be left all alone
People like me, these creatures of stone
I'd do it all again if you gave me the chance
I'd put my shattered heart back in your hands
Gale L Mccoy Sep 2018
i. lips the color of nostalgia
a cute girl says
                   "i'm so drink, send hell"

ii. hollows that won't echo
signs point to the phrase
                     "your god is worn out"

iii. mimicry but only in shape
everything bright enough to burn
never keeps detail when eyes close
pri Aug 2018
i can hear them now -those sirens, those bells,
and all the girls in our uniforms, hollow and brave,
and how we sometimes feel so alive, and sometimes so, so tired,
those ones who ask questions, and the ones who just leave,
and we’re both of those and we’re so brave,
and i think our eardrums are going to break.

every night, pick me up and we’ll go home,
but oh wait sweetheart, we can’t because we’re so young and so ******* busy.
like i said -i’m dying but i’ve never felt more alive, more happy,
or more tired. life has never been like this
-and i love these dreams, because right now they're blowing my way
did i also mention i love you?
i love you.

you know, you know, each hug is fragile,
broken glass shattering and putting itself back and becoming beautiful,
and thats me. you’re all soft words, and eyes like mine but all the more cunning,
but you’re braver than you know, and you’re a mystery.
and with every touch, i think of what would happen if we were hungrier,
that maybe, if we were hungrier we’d solve that mystery,
or i’d solve you.

always, always so worried. too worried to make a masterpiece,
but somehow you say i’ve made masterpieces of words, and i’m waiting for yours,
but i think you’re unlucky, because even though i’m so afraid of my muses,
they drive my hands, my brushes, my pens, these things that make you softly open your mouth,
and oh how i want to trace those lips. i wonder if you want to trace some other girl’s lips.
because there is no way you love me the way i might love you.
if i love you. i’m so lost in this.

more than anything, i think, i’d want something for myself.
so many muses, so many friendships, so many lovely people,
but yet all i want is only another kind of love. your kind. because you know what we could be?
every night, i’m trying to spend more and more time with you.
and if we were ever next to each other, i’d like to hold hands and gaze at the stars with you.
oh no -i’ve said too much. i wish with all my heart (futilely?) that you know who you are,
please tell me.

and these sirens keep sounding in my head, and i’m wondering if i’m losing my life,
because we should have each other, at those games, with those hollow brave girls,
with those dancers, and alone to dance to our own songs, and in our words.
we’d write each other, or perhaps you’d draw me, i’ve always wanted that.
anyway, this is just another schoolgirl’s dream becaue she should be focusing
-but she knows she needs something to do other than focus, someone to love,
and right now, it’s you.
inspired by my crush and this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uD4mKy7yi3w&list=RDuD4mKy7yi3w&start_radio=1
wisteria Aug 2018
their genesis was hollow,
like thrown stones that don’t skip.
just fall through the water’s surface
drop 10 feet down on the east side
of the lake, never to be seen again.

they took the lie
and tried to make it real.
went to please stay and i’m scared
and all the hyperreal places where
people go to be saved.

but then smoke fills the room
and the fire escape shuts and that
bright yellow love
is burnt with all the
things you thought

but never said.
i don't know what to think anymore
LVQuigley Aug 2018
A hollowness where life once grew,
now I have a barren soul.

No flowers bloom here anymore,
the colours are all gone.

but i feel the thorns twisting in my gut
and the weeds thriving in my chest.

They multiply into a wasteland,
where nothing but monsters dwell.
julianna Aug 2018
Another dream as part of the treatment
In all reality, it feels like a torture
If they only knew what the beeps brought on...
The left-right, dream-inducing,
cadence,
Tells my brain what to process;
And it’s always you.
If it hurts that much, is it healing?
Or bleeding out and re-peeling?
It’s the second dream since the therapy
On the second day since the therapy.
And oh,
It felt better the first time.
The one where he thought I was weird,
Because it’s more realistic.
But in the one about you,
I got everything I’d ever wanted
Which hurts
And aches
And hollows one out.
It leaves nerves fried
And teary eyes
And palpating hearts.
Because there’s no room to grow,
No room left to dream.
It’s given me an eye to see what we could have been
And feel how good it would’ve been.
And now I know and long for those  feelings.
And I think I always will,
Because I’ll never forget what I’ve dreamed.
I’m a broken, hollow body. These dream are tiring, winding torture. I don’t think I will ever get over him, it’s a deeper ache than you can expect someone to have for someone so non-essential in their life. But here we are.

The title is EMDR in Braille, or atleast it’s supposed to be.
Next page