Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ray Dunn Sep 27
im taking breaths but i still cant breathe
reading bottoms of bottles like tea leaves
and i can't see past my nose

so what if i'm a mess
who cares
face down in the sand

so what if im a mess
who cares
i can still feel your hands

im taking steps but not with ease
pulling at the strings of my own disease
and i cant even move my hands

running and scheming my brain
always leaving impossible feeling of dealing
and playing childish games of gaining grins
shootung guns of gifts giving garbled guidance

so what if im a mess
who cares
hair spun up in knots

so what if im a mess
who cares
i cant stop being lost
who knows
What is beyond death
When I don't believe in God
I know my body
Will be buried
Or burned away to nothing
And that's okay
But what happens to me
What happens to the person
Who loves with blue flames
Where does she go
When the sun sets
And all is quiet and calm
If there is a hell
I'm probably headed there
But I don't think
That there is
Perhaps I'll roam the universe
I can touch down on planets
And stars afar
Maybe I'll be reborn
If that's the case
Then end my term
Eternal life on earth
Seems like a chore
I don't want to live forever
I don't want to be here
When nations burn
I refuse to bear witness
To another century turn
And someday I will die
And I am so afraid
To let my conscience go
And fly into the void
Because deep down I know
What happens when we die
We are gone
Like smoke into the night
The thing that makes us human
Is furthest from physical
So when my body dies
My mind won't have
Anywhere to go
I don't want to be snuffed out
Like a burned down candle
And oh I know
That it won't be my choice
Maybe that's why
I've tried to end it all
I want to live
On my own terms
But the world
Has never been under my control
In a world where we die
So my only hope
Is that I can live my life
With the time I have left
But what's the point of living
When we all live to die
I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of living and being happy and having to let it all go.
Em MacKenzie Aug 18
Falling down like a rain drop
twenty-twenty but I’m blind.
Knowing that this must stop,
maybe tomorrow I’ll change my mind.

But maybe the fog has made me hazy,
no one will choose to save me,
write me off as crazy,
their judgements come too hasty.
Red flags planted to trace me
to the spot where I’ve been wasting
no help to do it myself,
I guess I’ve gotten lazy.
I vow to not continue with the crime,
maybe tomorrow or another time.

Tumbling around like dry leaves,
amazed by the colours you find.
Trading dry mouth for dry heaves,
maybe tomorrow I’ll change my mind.

Take notice that life as a poetess
feels kind of hopeless,
and as a bonus I’m under hypnosis.
I’ve been focused on picking myosotis
for my magnum opus,
better than roses
but less than autumn crocus.
I’ll watch them bloom in their prime,
maybe tomorrow or another time.

Lying on the ground as the concrete,
don’t mind the chalk as I’m outlined.
I think it’s due I get back on my feet,
maybe tomorrow I’ll change my mind.
Growly Wolfus Aug 18
No one loves you, so why do you smile
when you know you're hated and despised?
If you're truly happy with who you are,
why do you always seem to have to lie?
This feels great!  We grin at your pain.
It's good to finally have a challenge.
You complain, but I know you like it too.
We haven't caused too much damage.

Why do you cry?  You stupid human being.
If you show your torment, what do you think they'll say?
They'll call you weak for what you are doing,
so we keep you from speaking every day.
You don't deserve help from others.
Go and try to be happy with your friends.
Soon, they will see your true colors.
Then that will be where this ends.

Haha!  Hehe!  We're sorry.  We can't help it.
Except we're not sorry at all.
You're weak and don't belong here.
The higher you climb, the farther you'll fall.
You're tired again--aren't you?--from being around them.
How will you survive on your own?
You like to be here but you're exhausted again.
It's better to just be alone.

You admit we're there, but you'd much rather ignore us.
It's difficult with all of us here.
You try to listen but sometimes, we're too many.
Your hope for rescue is turning to fear.
You can't decide.  What can you do?
Lying awake in your bed.
You can't silence us.  We're louder than whispers.
We're the rambling in your head.

You laugh awkwardly.  You know we are here.
You cannot hide for long.
You try to ignore us but we are still there.
We will never be gone.
It's about time you tell someone the truth,
but we trust that you won't just yet.
We are with you for a reason.
You don't know why I bet.

We'll be back soon.  We'll be quiet for now.
We know we can depend on you.
It won't be long, don't worry.
Rambling is what we do.
Does anyone else hear voices in their head?  I used to believe it was totally normal.  I mean, everyone has a conscience, I just thought mine was trying to **** me.
The Tinkerer Jul 7
In the past,
I'd try to find
A way to love,
Give all the love, all I can,
To all who need, and all who want.

Looked in now,
Cause I've managed to fizzle out.
Burned through the faith,
Left ****** and bare.
Down on that love.
360, no love around.

Used to have all the love for some.
Now I have none for none.
Losses: One for One.

Thought I'd be good to medicate,
Thought I'd see it when I meditate.
Now I dig through all that lost faith, the heartbreak.

Fossilized in a place I so long vacated.
Make a stop on an abandoned station.
Pick it up, or recreate it.
Find what once was fun, was whole, was my day in the sun.

I gotta excavate from what I once separated.
That love for me I had long awaited,
Trip through hell, to see me elated.
Catch my breath and figure it again,

That love for one,
Get it back, For once, for all.
King of my throne, I will be reinstated.
I need to get away from what buried my self love and find myself.
On the path to reignite my emotional wealth.
Have to lean away from what killed my spirit, dried my well.
Rubber chicken bubble bath,
greasy chicken nugget,
Never learned a lick of math
How many in this bucket?

Counting on my hands and feet,
Spilling sweet and sour,
Wolfing down this deep fried meat
By dozens every hour.

Teriyaki, honey mustard, Barbecue, Atomic,
Churning in this raging pit of lava once a stomach.
Though many hours pass, a fire immolates my mouth,
Then I feel the terror of what waits for me down south.

My body is a war zone, a broken ruin burning,
Though I may never eat again, I’m bad at lesson learning.
For if I ever do, I will forget this day,
Once more my organs pay the price, the spice will have its way.
Despair Jun 18
I’m Sorry

You are my most regrettable sin,
Forever with you, I shall sit alone…
In a field full of fractured seeds, waiting to be sown.
For you, I will grow a thicker skin.
Just so that with you, I can suffer through this grin.

My father took me to a circus.
It was one of those old fashioned ones. They’d used animals, still.
I’d seen that animal within its cage, its disposition all too similar to my own
It mattered not if I was onstage, or offstage.
There was not a moment where you or I did not ‘cheat out’.

Stage left.
Stage right.
Back Stage.

You and I were the clowns who ‘played’ everywhere.
For I, the jester was the only personality that I could encage
It didn’t matter in which way that they would stare
As long as my smile could be seen, it didn’t matter if it was more
than I could bear.

In my act of selfishness, It was you that I had made
Because I could no longer wear this jester’s mask alone.
And for this sin, I know that I shall never atone
I stole you away from your promenade…
Peeled you from a novel that was never mine.
Brought you into my life, where you were never meant to shine.

But I couldn’t bear it…
This biological function
The need to never be ‘alone’
If I had only known… god, if I had only known.
That my idea of strength was ‘sad’
And incomplete, like a forgotten draft upon a sketch pad.

Those childhood memories could never resonate within you, nor I.
We were xerox copies, printed within a black room
Duplicates, whose polaroid had bled, stained with obsidian dye.
I made you with the selfish request- to pick up the mask when I could no longer bear it
‘Please protect me’, I’d said. What a horrible sin that I commit.

For I should have known. Even ‘good’ memories are made at the expense of others.
The animals who put on their show, only to lay, as if dead within their cells.
The young actors and actresses, who will never again see their mothers.
To the ring leader, who wonders… Why does he deserve this hell?
Finally, that smiling jester… Whose world as long since lost all of its colors.
rebecca yong Jun 16
night is the stripping away of your first and second face, letting your third face take a break and dance with the sun and the stars beneath the earth. fuelled by inspiration and passion for everything and nothing, pure youth keeping you awake. take this time to relish in yourself and the beauty of the deafening yet forgiving silence of the night.
CautiousRain May 3
Have you ever seen a tap dancer
sit on a stage
with their legs crossed,
their metal plated shoes
facing away,
and their sound stolen?

Well, have you ever seen a girl
sit on her bed
with her legs crossed,
her feet tucked, hiding,
buried away,
and her voice silenced?
Well, have you?
Next page