Start with the breath, Shaky lately, it changed with the stains a painting formed on my chest came leaking, sneaking black bubbling death It foamed up towards the roof of my vest, Cough is hoarse excuse me my poorly conveying the truth I confess that maybe I've trained my brain to ignore the distress culminating the gruesome express
Eyesight now, and my Eye's feel numb Two flocks fly in the light of the sun, side by side in a sign like a gun that stops my stride in time with the young, I wonder why and who had time to train these geese to write ******* W's alright, soon it fades from mind a two days wait until it's time to light up the night blunt try somma my cut the line trust is high up sigh at thoughts thought in my mind fuzz fought climb up bought thine scuffle what ******* geese fly in V's I'm blind cuz.
Minds in circles my muscles in decay my brain can't keep track of the ******* days I'd buy the parcel from hovels of dismay trade for ants to keep mortality at bay I'm afraid I wished for death too often, it waits till I'm content to grant it's bubbles while I'm coughin.
Like the muscles in our fists, and in our legs, The heart too needs to be torn apart Again and again So that it may rebuild itself Stronger than the day it was before, And like how we can lift more with our arms, And run more with our legs, What hurt us the day before, Suddenly has no effect In our heart
Shimmering eyes gaze in silence The performer coated in dazzling gems assumes the position Their muscles tighten and their arms rise like sturdy branches Her eyes ablaze with raging fear and excitement The vast expanse of all the possibilities of the future in front of her Anticipation rising like pure energy through her body She hears her cue And she leaps
Heartbreak forced through the cracks, Dripping heavy ichor, drip drops interminable. Muscles and veins shredded, Caught on rough stone edges. Pulled by strings attached to your sharpened claws. I scream soundless, Beg for the end with my thoughts. Beg for these dreams to vanish into the day.
Dreams of everything being nice and perfect after a breakup are the worst.
it takes seventeen muscles to smile. it takes forty three muscles to frown. if it takes more muscles to frown then it does to smile, then why does it take so much more effort to smile when you're sad? or to smile in general?
Do you bleed when you write? When your fingertips get sore and your muscles get tight Do you bleed? From your heart? With each beat comes a new line and you hope that it sounds like something that doesn't quite rhyme But it sounds good in time. It'll sound good in time. Just keep writing.
Don't give up on this. The pen was made for your hand and your hand only. I swear.