there's something about silence that just reminds me of you
and since i can't run away from it, i can't run from you.
so may someone inform me as to what i can do?
i'm over these shrieks in the void that ring true
so blue.
quiet nights.

remedies is not only for something we can't pass
remedies is for everything that has broken
or just to re-new something
-
she learns something from her life, everyday
but she never had a chance to write those down

it's not a scam when she said her favorite things to do are reading & writing or writing & reading
reading a poem or her self-diary
writing a poem or a self-diary
she doesn't know if is a gifts
or just a hobby
because everytime she finished wrote all her poems, she re-read it, and she thought all eyes those read her words can write it too (with their own version(s))

in this, not-so, new day(s)
herself will embarks to write all the tales where she's involved in

as long as she living her life
this era is the lowest point in her life
she doesn't know if it actually is, or it's just she made it all low

she can't even say a word to herself
she can't even write what's in her head
she can't even tell anyone when she really needs a person to talk
all are just mixed up in her little head


she doesn't know if it is something like "manifesting" or what
all she knows that she can't figure it out yet
is it something related to science? like human mind?
is it something related to religions? like human relations with The Creator?
but one from many answers for the solutions (based on her own researches) is self-improvement
she is pretty sure that is something wrong inside herself
something to be fixed
something that needs remedy
but her body & mind are not so sure what is that (or what are those)
her body & mind are still figuring out

it's not finished yet
it is still figuring how it needs to be stopped
it is still progressing
'it' is this story, her story, my story
..

the city is pink
the clouds are close
the sun will sink
pubs will flood
pavement splattered
with tipsy chatter
from ****** clubs
glass shattered
and mornings knackered

the strangers that find me strange
The heave of an alleyway in a drunken sway
movement
students
cocktails
drunken wails
pool cues
ques for loos
beer gardens
feeling disheartened

potions creating feeling
to disobey trust
emotions blinded
by unnecessary lust

addictive needs
swift gulps of a remedy
morning bleeds
and my head is the enemy

delaying the night to be over
as i wander slow pace
the thought of being sober
the people and the look of my face

the clouds cry as I stare at the sky
I turn down to the puddles to untangle my troubles
the endless struggle to this puzzle

the sky is grey
I run to the train
panting in dismay
at a city full of pain
in a happiness debt
that the journey might reset

I blink

I missed my train
but the city is in pink
I live to love it
I make myself think
so I head to the bar
and I buy a drink

does it feel like a remedy, living without me?
or a constant reminder that you’re just like me

Why did I think you could cure
all the aches and pains
I had held for years and more,
when you were never my remedy?

Every dose I took
was another ******* placebo,
and you'd have thought
I could tell this treatment wasn't working for me.

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, heart makes you feel like a fool---not by me:>

I lie so bad
of how your presence excludes the sad
this hand includes
this blue stage we stand in interlude
words on red cheeks faint
the place empty I paint
the neck puts a distance from me and you
and the dark finds the light it never knew

the pretentious actor
writing a character on the other end of the protractor
my pen flows on veins in a way
after tongue pauses the say
now my heart wins
thoughts muffled like an invisible bottle of gin
but fair is not fair for a reason
and cheers to my self mind treason


                                                       ­                                  -----ravenfeels

A "Tireless Impression" is nothing but pure nonsense, when you finally come to grips with what is mostly costly away from what makes up something that starts (as an impression), then abruptly transmits directly over towards the impression that gives good advice...that can't give good advice for itself.
The Tireless part, is the only remedy to an awakening that doesn't count for the (already built up nonsense) that can't keep it's own self away from such sudden shame... That it adopts a certain willpower that counts itself lucky enough...to literally become increasingly ill-tempered at the very lifestyle it chose, for the very direct impression... Of a Tireless will.

like a drug,
i just can't get enough
the side effects are
this numbness.
the pain of looking
your addiction in the eyes and
being reminded of how
you first died.
but there's no more
a reason to relapse,
no more season for sobriety:
so I stare at
my human addiction
in the eyes,
hoping he's also
the remedy.

shevaun stonem