KRM 41m
I fabricated a future for myself that I couldn’t see, in hopes that you’d be proud of me.

I can’t even write poems that tell the truth.
I’ve spent so much time creating a safety blanket that protects you.

You are scarier than any ghost I’ve ever met,
or any ghost I wanted to be.
You’re scarier than the dark,
even scarier than my broken heart.

I could stop existing and be fine,
the world doesn’t stop and neither does time.


More like decaying,
the happiness that once lived inside rots out,
hope just alike,
born with congenital heart disease.

It is inconvenient in its black art,
a damned nuisance for everyone but myself.
When the shadows reflect upon my face at different angles,
I’ve become a new kind of disaster;
the broken one not worth repairing,
but being forgotten.

No better than the renovated homes we lived in.
You with your sledgehammer demolishing these chamber walls
I am the house & you are the wrecking ball
i'm afraid your ride has ended here,
do not bother to try to travel further,
i can't let you closer,
it only get colder,
i can't get any bolder,

i swear i tried,
the thought of letting you in anymore,
it sends shivers down my spine,
i would love to-
but i can't,
this reflex can't be stopped,

don't you ever wonder what people are whispering?
the way they grin,
what if it is all fake?
what if they aren't real?
**what if they are using me?
I know that I can hear her,
Every word getting clearer.
The sound of her music,
Lowering my fences.

Clairvoyantly appointed,
But she does have a point meant.
She is understood-
I know her will is good.

Oh, how I want to help them!
So I'll start with a poem.
Even if it never ends,
I can always pretend.

It's only been a year,
But we share the dreaded fear.
Maybe it's all in my mind-
Not as far as I can find.

I wonder if I need her,
Every breath growing weaker.
Perhaps if I listen,
I'd find a valued reason.

A sudden disappointment,
Of what do I present?
I question what I should.
I question if I could.

Only more questions that do come,
Of what is the outcome?
I hope it's not a trend.
Peace I recommend.

I only know these tears,
And the scorching screams of fear.
No answers we can find,
They seem to be all blind.

I continuously repeat her,
Finally, understand the meter.
The fear one step ahead.
I'm locked inside my head.

Greed the cash and coin cent.
Is there any ointment?
I hate the paper wood,
Bringing only hurt, no good.

I seem to find no one,
Who isn't turning numb.
The flag rising again,
The colors bleed and blend.

Of what we now endear,
Be thankful that were here.
I need a piece of mind,
Or a spell to please and bind.

I wonder of the speaker,
Sometimes I want to be her.
But as far as you can guess.
She's only in my head.

All of the precedents,
Collide with the recent.
Silently I stood,
I hide behind my hood.

All the things I notice,
Even out of focus.
Is it coming to the end?
Has the prophecy begun?

As I'm standing on a pier,
I know it is growing near.
Try not to look behind,
For my revelation could unwind.
A poem for my idol Amanda Palmer. I usually do not write about topics considering the media and politics but I was listening to my Theater is Evil cd (by Amanda Palmer) yesterday and got a sudden urge to write about this topic.
Bloem 7d
You stand there, fresh and expectating
tempting and defiant
and there you will stay
It's me who has to take the first step (as usual)

I've been thinking lately
isn't our relationship a bit toxic?
I come to you, looking for relief
but as well as I know you got under my skin
I know you are not right for me

Like a sweet poison
you are destroying me
slowly burning me from the inside
taking away my life...

And yet also my pain.
When I'm with you
I feel like the best version of myself
Fun, relaxed, confident. Free...
Even my friends seem to like me more.

Before you touch my lips again
I stop, look at you and try to think
there's no use: you have numbed all of my senses
and I have arrived to the same old conclusion

I'm drowning.
You are the lifesaver
and the ocean at the same time.
Still I kiss you.
Because I'd rather having you killing me
than at having you at all.

- from an alcoholic
She Writes Mar 14
Call her needy, clingy, and pathetic
Laugh at her for needing reassurance

But know this:

You are laughing at the little girl
Whose mother never picked her up from school.

The girl who waited by the phone
for a Christmas call that never came.

Laughing at the numerous
Unanswered letters and cards.

The girl who taught herself
About her body and boys.

Laughing at a tearstained face
When she got the voicemail again.

Laughing at the woman who got herself ready
On her wedding day because her mom didnt come.

The woman that waited at the hospital
But gave birth alone.

So call her what you want

But know this:

You are laughing at the issues
following the abandonment
of a girl who just needed her mom
Jack Jenkins Mar 13
I burn trust to keep myself warm
but I'm freezing from the inside out
Lost Mar 11
Drowning in a sea of my own creation, a black void of crashing waves that erode my bedrock, slowly but surely.

The knight watches from the cliff top, his sword dangling helplessly by his side, knowing the fruitless endeavour of attempting battle with the creature, was just that. He falls to his knees, begging the merciless gods to release his world from its onslaught of tendril esk darkness.

But the cries fall on deaf ears as the monster deity unleashes yet another wave of black and the sky falls into the sea with an impossible crack.

The storm rages on as its host shambles around its own reality, the now black skies reflect in its eyes, but the light of the stars has since been extinguished. The firery core has been contained within the maelstrom of black. And the throbbing sentience is being infected and enslaved by the demon god once and for all.

The knight is a fugitive in the world that was crafted for him. His armour is battered and flawed from the constant losing fight he was destined to wage, forever. The arm that once held the mighty sword of light feels like the weight of a thousand men were standing on it. And the sword is glowing ever fainter.

But still, the war goes on, the casualties rise and the demon god is winning. This is no fairy tale, our hero is not recovering and the monster has no weakness.

This is real life.
My... life.
So I’m trying this thing where I write poetry, without poem formatting...
When I was five,
my mother told me I was loved.
Years later, she asked me to leave because
I was the reminder of the gruesome past that haunted her.

When I was ten,
my father told me he believed in me.
Years later, he refused to accompany me because
I was an embarrassment to him in front of the society.

When I was fifteen,
my friends told me I was funny.
Years later, they all laughed at me because
I was the gullible teenager who fell for their flawless façade.

When I was twenty,
this guy said I was beautiful.
Years later, he trashed me, tormented me because
I was ignorant enough to overlook my inevitable flaws.

So, sorry for not believing in you,
for questioning your intentions, inclusively, in-depth
when you told me you loved me because
I didn’t want to wind up years later,
learning it the hard way that people often don’t mean what they say.
"Pistanthrophobia is just not everyone's cup of tea."
Just because they say ....
that life moves on if you let it,
does not mean,
that its that simple.
Sometimes you are stuck in a moment...
A bad moment.
Practically forever,
And life ain't moving to any where.
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