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You don't know
How desperately I love you
But my stimulations drain me
Like ******* from the mind.

My heart, and my brain
The gladiator, and the lion
An unstoppable force,
an immovable object,
The Moon, and the Sun
Heaven, and Hell

I want so badly for you to understand how desparate I am to love you through my worst nature.
I wish I wasn't the way I am sometimes.
Greta Apr 2022
Would you drink my tears,
If I asked you to?
And maybe get intoxicated by that little
salty taste I somehow still
find a way to get addicted to?
Cause I would,
for you.

I would fill an entire jar of tears,
any size you’d like.
Ask me for a bigger one and
I’d still find another reason to cry.
Could you bottle one for me,
Beautiful you are, a pretty shower.
You wash away all the dismay,
so gentle you are with me, falling
each day so that we may meet
even if our river runs dry you peak
at a point that touches rain's feet.

Surrounded by birds and tree's,
an atmosphere with calm scenery
and yet still your eyes pour down
drowning like a pool of love only;
upon me.
Ida Nov 2021
There has always been a lot of different ways to destroy yourself - there's the devotion to something that is not you, the cutting a piece off yourself and putting it in another person; that person becomes positive one and you are left with a gaping hole that misses itself, misses what is used to be.
And that hole will never fully fill itself again, you see, no matter how much you stuff it with wool and dirt. There will always be this swallowing-everything-you-see-and-then-spitting-it-out hole. And then you think, what if I completely give myself to others? And then there's chunks of yourself on the floor and you're as much human as your kiddy teddy bear that's been lying in the mud your entire life. And then there's a dead man at your feet.
 There's the protective layer - the fake, something that is not you, the stolen artwork that you placed on yourself because you're too ashamed, too scared, to fill the gallery with something that is truly yours. Something that is truly you. You're walking around with a camera in your hand that captures everything at a hands-reach. And then you pretend its your own until you fool yourself enough to finally grab your needles and thread and sew your own initials on the tag.
You can stab yourself well enough that they won't recognize you anymore. Take every sharp thing you see, and then jam it straight into where it hurts. But it hurts everywhere, so you keep stabbing, until people come up to you and feel sorry for you. ‘what happened’ they ask. You never know what to answer. ‘What happens next?’ You're afraid now, you're not yourself. I’m sorry, maybe if I rearrange your mirror you will see yourself again, but my knuckles will have to heal first.
There’s still blood on them.
Ida Apr 2021
There's a devil in the corner of my room who waits until I fall asleep to kiss my cheek and bid me goodnight.
During the day he cannot reach me because he is, as stated previously, a demon, in all its magnificent glory.

But he's not bad, not for me.

I tell him all my secrets, I tell him of all who looked at me with eyes I can't interpret. I'm trying my best here, and I think this four legged creature is the closest I'll come to being loved.
Ida Mar 2021
In one single night I realized the meaning in which I have been dwelling my entire life to find out the answer to
but now I fear that I know too much about what needs to be kept unknown

I've been mumbling the words of one thousand dead relatives every second of my life.
You can't hear me, neither could I until this one particular night.

I found myself on a bike riding south and wondering why I'm here, what made me get here and why am I on a bike and why am I riding south and why am I ten years old I feel like I should be one million

I fell asleep and woke up one year older, then I repeated the process and now the candles can't fit on the cake but my blow gets compared to storms

I can't keep up and on my death bed I will speak the words of Eve

She said, "This life was made for you, are you ready to do it again?"

and I replied, "We are the same, you and I"
Ida Jul 2021
you walk on an abandoned railway
its dark and you can't see anything
but your know they're there
people in front of you
behind you, on every side of you
holding you like you're something dear, someone important that they can't bear to lose
it's a ghost town.
you might as well be blind but you still balance on the tracks, someone is holding your hand
at home your mom is making dinner while you eat a clementine
and nothing makes you happier than this clementine
so you consider planting a seed but
it would die anyway
because it's a ghost town.
but there are no ghost, not really
it's just history
and it's begging you to keep yourself sane.
ishq Feb 2021
The angel of death once
eclipsed our goodbye
Embraced you within a golden abyss
marked with our glistening eyes
I’ve pictured this conversation
more times than I testify
Yet a chance of it occurring
leaves me mortified
For there’s a sweet escape
in lingering within stolen time
Before your demise feels real
allows me to bathe in a tempting crime.

Regardless, this hollowed illusion comes to fracture
Present now a past but my life plays backwards
The gravity of reality cascades upon me
Trapped in a realm of denial unable to be set free
Although I am the creator of this melancholic fantasy
The price of release means a lifetime of apathy

Instead, I extend, and live within a conversed eulogy
Attempting final goodbyes laced with ambiguity. - epiphanyofwords
Why should I
Hold on to pains
And failures of the past?
Am I not mama nature's own?
Even trees in the fall
Let go of their leaves
For come spring,
Anew chapter shall begin.
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