Streams— relay the slumber
Tributes to— the Waterfall's Sprite.
'Twas when— the compass— Dismantled
As the bedrocks gruel— Distort the ledge,
Confronted by— tidal waves;—
Imbued the Crush— of a Carapace
That let the Visions— Sprout;—
Abandoned— With the Barriers..
So long,— I do not know..
Sights— Times— are enclosing
Onto the lost,— And the Seafloor sinks
Slowly— Diminishing— The Sirens' Call..
It's just so strange not to remember anything.
The space between us
is substantially bigger,
and your tight grip
is no longer pinned to my emotional trigger.
You knew that in the past
I would have jumped off a ledge for you,
but now I am strong enough
to say ***** you, too.
In that kind of mood
When ledges look beautiful
One jump, So far down
Looking down, its exhilarating. Heart beating so fast, as if its crying out begging me to hear that im still alive. That I can go on.
Tell me when you jumped, was it everything you imagined. That amazing feeling, of fear, happiness, freedom, release.
Sigh, i just wish I could go back in time
I just want to talk with you.
I miss you
Call me up and call me kiddo
You're getting too old for this
I think this as I hop over your ledge
Into the Island of Peter James Pan
I fly back and come over
You fly off the handle too much
Want what you want when you want it
I value patience
I can find the brightest star
But you won't look up
Say you've had enough of my thoughts
I wouldn't expect a lost boy to understand
But I'm sorry for the second night
When you just wanted to talk
And I was in a rush to Neverland
I wish you'd ask me how I am again
I never expected you to be more than a fun night
But now I know your bed and you gave me a toothbrush
I was too quiet to come through your window
I don't know if you will leave it open anymore
But maybe it's time for you to be Wendy
And forget all of us who were up in the clouds with you
Maybe it's time to fulfill your father's legacy
I know it means the world to you
But I will remember you saying you liked my questions
Because they were different from the others
The kiss on the forehead
Safe in the island of your arms
And I will remember your ledge
Whether or not you remember me
i saw a man waiting for a rat
to come out it's hole
so he could eat it
the snow was menacing but i
did not notice i passed by
no avalanche ever came
standing naked on a small ledge
anxious waiting to drop hard
i masturbated and left
Withered through these relinquished lips,
softly lays an embellished, embroidered, carcass.
Torn across flesh-like soil
caressing gently into this impermeable being,
you're only human.
So allowing in the presence of indigenous, oblique thoughts
slanting into the belly
never feeling so bare
the hunger deprives.
The nails of your eyes piercing into the forefront of mush you call a brain,
feeling the earth distinctively tremble with each step you chase closer to the ledge
Clutching onto the white knuckle breast
your hands pounding at your fingertips
its electric running through your veins
feeling it at the core
so helplessly, lost.
Your throat knots into one-thousand splinters
splicing relentlessly between your core
the wedge of your mortal body becomes noticeable to your soul
Slithering one step closer,
pull the rope
one more inch closer,
you can feel it
separating your surroundings from comfort ability
picking up between each breath
shaking at your own wake.
there you have it
at the brim of the edge
you've push yourself this close
whats one last jump out of this skin?
Soft hands idling quietly by
snatching remnants of credibility
its cloak opaque to reflection
you grasp its hand,
like a double-edged sword
you hold on tight
wisping away into the night
never to be seen again.
The walls are dark and the smell is repugnant
death on its tongue
Decay in the teeth.
Smiling back as if a fun-house of mirrors
dubious, distorted, distraught
you hold on.
Cradling the noose like a new mother to its child
you gawk, admire, and dream
Of a darkness to bring you closer to the ledge.
Gently pushing formidable bounds
released to self-indulgence
As the world around you lights up only by screens
and reacts only by the ping of self-admiration.
A ghost among the blinded
walking slowly by as everything is in full speed.
Stuck in a repetitive loneliness
damnation of socialization
pity. pity. pity.
Pulling onto the strings of darkness
puppeting along madness
mastering hell as its vibrant and claw full of disappointment
you sit on the outside of the world
watching it comfortable in its cage.
1 in the morning and I'm coming over
I hop the ledge into his place
I start to undress but he stops me
He doesn't want to do anything
Except ask me how I am
Your room and your eyes are full of smoke
You were so far away from when I saw you last
You became older over the course of a few days
Thinking it over too much
How to manage a million for a friend
What does it mean to be in your position?
It only means something to you if you can get more
Silence finds your lips and then they meet my forehead
And we fall asleep so sadly
Too deep in thought to touch
I'm still thinking about it in the morning
Are you mad at me?
"No" he says, taking off my clothes
it's different from the last time
You show it in your gentle ways
He wraps me in blankets
Says I can stay all day
And when he leaves for work
I make his bed and write him a note
What does it mean to be in my position?
It means something to me until I get more
Witness of broken promises
Bearer of complete unhappiness
Deep down inside the unknown
Feelings are forgotten and thrown
You disappoint me and let me down
I am afraid to act strange 'cause
I don't want seeing you sad.
Looking for a new place to begin,
Feeling like it's hard to understand,
But as long as you still keep peppering the pill,
You'll find a way to spit it out again
<the title is a song, note is the song's chorus, song was written by Alex Turner for a film called "submarine", a UK coming of age film or deeper rom/com released in 2010(i think) a really good movie, not connected to this poem, tho.
taking yourself out of the groggy room
Drawn back, six years old and
kicking high enough on the swing set,
high enough for tree tops.
Swinging became toes dangling from a high ledge
high ledges into things your parents told you not to touch, not to burn yourself on,
Let the taste burn,
candle wax eloping down the wick, it's last flicker of redundant flame.
Time is runs short,
feel yourself creasing down the middle,
stained like an old table cloth, wilting away like sunflowers
curling at the corners
Dust swirls through the empty room, echoes in a ribcage, punctured lung.
Poem from April 2015