JGL 13h

I enter the garden
full of rose bushes.
I walked in deeper
and witnessed
the impeccable beauty
etched within
the stone walls
of the garden.

Everything was majestic.
But I also witnessed
to the garden's dismay,
the rise of thorns and pests.
Of beauty turning into
utter despair.

I pricked my fingers,
But didn't left.

Instead, I took delight
on the pain.
I let my blood trail me,
letting them know
where I was moving.

That was the cowardly thing
I have ever done.
A commitment I didn't
think of.
A gamble
I didn't know how high
the stakes are.

There is no turning back,
but only to wipe
my blood hands clean.
Sucking finger by finger
like a demon sprung
from the beauty of the garden.

I ran,
far as my gut tells me,
going towards
the heart of the garden.
My arms are dressed
in thick jagged scars,
ozzing with fresh blood,
the nails of my nemesis.

And as I reached the heart,
I screamed a battle cry
and took her by the hair,
and slowly dug my nails
into her throat,
spilling the blood
that matched equally
with mine.

We are even,
and as she burns in hell,
I rule it.

To my classmate-and-friend, for quite sometime did I noticed a change in demeanor. A lion in sheep's clothing. But she didn't recognize I was a wolf hiding in the midst.
jg 14h

I find myself at the perfumery store once again, looking at the man behind the cash register with desperate eyes asking for your perfume, pronouncing it's brand name as if it were a lost essence of you...

I find myself with the container inches away from my nose, and with my mind in a trance where i'm fulfilled brusquely with memories of you that reach out for me and pull me out of the lonely darkness surrounding me.

River 1d

I wish to be a single unit.
I want all of my body to contain my
I do not want to feel restrained by
my anxieties.
This unit will work together
a full microbiome
a complete structure
good-enough in nature
keeping you alive.
a concept I'd love to measure.
blood levels, stress worksheets, therapist visits,
drugs, anti-depressants, side effects
things i can measure.
Biology,I get it,
but intrapersonal connections?

Something i haven’t found yet that continues to call.
Walking up endless stairs that only shake when I move and only allow me to fall.
Let’s not sit around and pretend I’m not as sad as you all can’t care to think.
The moment I realized there was nothing more I could do but hang halfway off the brink.
Skin tinged with spots and colors carefully healing as normal and new.
The sound as the tree finally falls in the forest everyone forgot they knew

Whatever it was, I felt it in my gut. Organically. Euphorically. Even when it came back up, I did not mind the taste. You made me feel like I could stomach anything though I always hated sour food, I spent my afternoons kissing you when I should have been at school. My grades started to drop and you told me college was a waste because the world did not need my help, you did. So I started learning how to fix broken things. There isn't much literature about broken people. They say you aren't there to fix them, but to love them instead but you drilled it in my head that those two were the same and that if I didn't do it I was useless so I ran myself thin trying to piece you back together. You never even told me what broke you in the first place. I spent months trying to get into your headspace to figure it out and you boarded the windows on our apartment so the heat could not get out, or that's what you told me anyway. I guess I never told you how I felt about all of this and I'll never get the chance, but you made me feel something I still can't. I look for it, believe me. I tried everything. Nothing matches the rush I got when you would knock me down then pick me back up. Nothing struck quite like your words even when they were used to step on the path I was planting for myself, but I never asked for help because I didn't know it was wrong. And now I don't know how to fix it, or me. I should have looked harder for those books on how to fix people, I guess.

Dallas 1d

In life,
I’m just a puppet

No free will
nor the ability to sing
dancing through life
totally off beat

Heart pinched and stitched
head hanging in defeat
I sullenly dance to the piano
as it’s belting notes bittersweet

The children loose their smiling eyes
as the music man sadly whispers goodbye

But I hold my place
a torn punching bag
broken, beaten, bruised, a pathetic disgrace

Eyes glossy and iridescent
staring aimlessly at the walls
mind filled with sights unpleasant

I long to have
the prettier days
of gumdrops and rainbows
honeydew and constant praise
dreaming of the sun beating down on my shining face

But now
I sway
my heart no longer light as a feather
but heavy as lead
just wanting to close my eyes
and lay down my head

Forever plastering a smile
yet praying to be dead.

I see to deep and too much,
I hurt so much and so often,
I look away but I always look back.
Come cradle my bruised emotions,
I’ve got nothing left to bleed anymore.
I could’ve saved my life before
But I care so much…
To care about myself at all.

First published on April 29. 2012 at 6:46 pm via kimmerific.tumblr.com

How do you beat
the feeling of being defeated?

I've got taxi cabs where my feet once were
and left my cash on 39th in my purse

even if I had the money
I still have riptides in my chest
I know how to swim
but can't catch my breath

I feel alone
I feel defeated


Bubbly smile and shining eyes, are what I see
When I listen to your voice, I feel at ease.
Sure, I’m mature but fun at times
Annoying and unwittingly maritime.

Behind the jokes and the laughs, is my past
My darkness in the future seems vast.
But no one is stopping me from getting to you
Yet I stand still and grudgingly bid you adieu.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining
I’m just sick and tired of waiting
Maybe all the stress just got to me.
I don’t know how, to not hold on too tightly
Maybe I’m just scared over nothing.

Maybe that’s it, I just need to patch my soul
But you’re not the star cut out to make me whole.
Yet I try and try again to make you be a part of me
I’m drawn to the way you make us both feel happy.

But if you really meant that much to me
I’d be able to let you go, sadly but easily.

I don’t really love you, even though I think I do
You don’t make me as happy as she makes you.
I don’t really love you, even though I think I do
You remind me of what it’s like to not be lonely.

31st March 2017

The long version of this poem has the full explanation of this piece. Any other queries or comments can be left below.
Thanks for stopping by! :)

I will not wear what everyone else thinks I should
no, I will wear whatever makes me feel good
and if that's ripped jeans and an oversized tee shirt,
if that's what makes me feel good, then that is who I'll be
and there is nothing anyone can do about it,
for I'm just being me

written 2014
edited 2017
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