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Shruti Atri Jul 26
I am tired of feeling lost
Being left behind;
I am sick of mourning
While presenting my silence...

I wait for my iron blood
To thicken and freeze;
My veins, my heart
Too stiff to feel again--

I wait for cold numbness
To dull my aching eyes;
To release my soul
From merciless compassion.

I wait to draw a breath
In freedom, in selfishness;
Untainted by their expectations
If only one, if only once...

Till my madness consumes me.
Marla Dantes Aug 2019
time and numbers are attempts
to decipher a universe whose nature
defies what we understand.
stop thinking about data,
consider the truth instead.
observe everything
until it absorbs you
and then leave,
objectively.
seek not an answer,
but a response,
and it will find you
eventually...
Juno May 1
I think I like my reflection;
at least when I’m alone.
But when there’s other people to compare myself to,
I find myself avoiding reflective surfaces.
fray narte May 15
it's been ten years — ten long years but all around me lies this casual atrocity of how easy it is to slip back into sadness, as though it’s the only thing my body knows well
fray narte Apr 17
is there a way out of here other than the sudden violence of tearing through my skin? if i  find an escape route one day, i swear to god, i would leave even the calmest sunsets behind.
my dreams
being blown away
up in smoke,
just trying to get
some feelings stirred,
but my heart looks away
without staying broke.
Still, I ramble on...
Something tugs at me from the veil of the ether,
Calling me to my real home!

In the faint twinkling of a dying star,
In the wilted petal of a bright flower,
In the melted wax of a long dead candle,
My mind searches for memories of a place so familiar
Yet whose existence maybe was only a lucid dream... !

Why this utter urge in my soul to dissolve like fine mist into the air?
Why this nagging sensation to mix with the soil and the sands?

I had lived my life too short for answers
But way too long to ask  questions
That I always look into myself to remember the one reason as to not being able to call this bewilderingly beautiful walls-
"My home...!"
Scribbled something after a long, long time... Hope all of you are doing fine, my dearest poets ! ❤✨
Ileana Amara Mar 20
find yourself in the seams of my musings;
a tale of young love, a tale of sweet tragedy,
a warm hug of belonging, a cold release of parting,
such restless heart wanders, high hopes as remedy.

IA
03.21.21.| "you see nothing ever truly ends, because everything is transitory."
fray narte Mar 20
maybe some types of chaos do not have to make sense or unveil some semblance of an epiphany. some types of chaos, you just have to feel. some types of chaos, you just have to lie through.
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