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exist 5d
the more memories in my head that become unrepressed
the more i realize that i’m blessed
it took a lot to get me here
and the end is nowhere near
because life is a journey, not a race
i’m so grateful to be in this place
and i tell myself
it could always be worse
practice positivity, sometimes the only thing you can control is your attitude
mars Jan 31
If they don’t believe you
they don’t deserve to
be apart of your story.

You shouldn’t have to explain
mars Jan 20
With our heads over the starboard of the boat trip we took taunting tropical storm Fay on the port and our dresses in the wind.
He watched from the captain's chair, pistol in his hand. Salty seas hinder our vision of the man in the watchtower turning him into a blur on the vast expanse of grey skies and rotting wet wood.  

Angry crew-children with their bodies touched, banging on the stained glass door to his room where the little girl looks through the marbled blue with tears on her cheeks. Laughing at the confrontation, sent back to work.

Gathering lobster and lost time, both of them scream in the boiling ***. Escaped breath from incestuious embraces return to lungs and we find out that we can scream too, the boiling *** is overturned dripping off the starboard where we stand.

Lightning bolt touches the flag above his head causing chemical reactions to develop into a spark. Flames at the back engulf the wheel the children blister their hands grasping onto the lines as Fay rolls through, lightning after thunder rain never ending. Chaos perspiring on the ship he calls the battalion to secuestrar the children.

The battalion is overturned at the punch, bruise left on grey skin. Captain blubbering with lies the fire heat on his back. Rotting wood is burning, we cover our noses with bandanas and letters marked for Groton. The tide rises waves overtake the port, splashing onto the starboard where the victims jump into the black water uncertainty chilling them.

Swimming to Key West with the dolphins on our back the fiery ship burns in the distance the captain tied to a chair of ******* and lines untouched, denying allegations until his heart is charcoal and all that's left is a charred body smelling of ****** and aftershave. The starboard side is empty causing imbalance to the ship.

Dripping tears and sea water, walking through the streets, we lower our bandanas and hold the letters close to our hearts. Searching for the sun that will lead us home.
Esther Krenzin Dec 2018
My story is filled with blotted ink
from the tears that so freely fell
Ensnared behind my closed mouth
words form and then rebel
Hands bleed with the need to write
but the pen has long been dry
Sometimes I wonder if
it has always been a lie
Then what is this
that flows through my veins?
Forged from silver
held back by chains
I do not see blood
only unformed murmurs
Mere fragments of the thoughts
buried beneath the armor
And if you tore me open
all you will ever find
Is blank paper
torn pages
and ink run dry.
-Esther Krenzin-
Do you ever long to write yet no words form? To put down on page what feels so powerful yet so
chichee Jan 7
Seventeen and burning down
I am a machine gun mouth,
A stomach without a heart,
Red dahlias growing with the weeds in your backyard,
I am a stick of dynamite waiting
for an excuse.
You are bored enough to hand me a match.

(I was always your favourite kind of shitshow)
I wrote this in a mood. not my best work, but it's good to come out of break.
Rayma Dec 2018
The silence in this world is ringing
Ringing like the unanswered phones left on the line
Because no one is home to hear
the shrill call of an unanswered voice just begging
Begging for one more shot at whatever sordid mess they’ve left behind
Because the future is ahead and it’s scaring them.

Please, just let me come home.
Home was never safe, it was never warm,
It was just a place for childhood embers burnt fast by the age of 12, no, 11, no, 10,
But then I still beg to go back because life’s ahead, mom,
And they’re calling my name but I cover my eyes
Because all I hear is the shrill call of an unanswered voice
Begging me to amount to all that I’m worth,
To take strides on horizons I can hardly fathom
Because out there, they’re looking for a shadow to their sunset.
A step away, a reach, a grasp,
But I let it fall from my hands and crash
Graceless, inelegant, twisted, metamorphosed into a nightmare I’ll never catch.
Because these walls are a sanctuary
Where the hands that cover my eyes and
The hands that cover my ears protect me
From the world’s volatility,
and the one thing I grasp;
in the highest degree.

So fire your bullets, because they’ll only ricochet,
Keep away
No way
No wait,
This isn’t invincibility,
Just conciliatory me
Bending, twisting, metamorphosed into
        a grotesque shape
        a nightmare I’ll become
When someday there’s a ringing in my head
Of an unanswered phone left on the line.
I don’t want to hear it;
The shrill call of an unanswered voice just begging
Begging for one more shot at the broken pieces,
This puzzle strewn across the floor
Like it’s always been there
just never seen before,
Because you only see the flash after you hear the bang
And it’s all over.
It’s too late.
The phone keeps ringing.
I wrote this at the beginning of the month. It's a new style for me, one I've been exposed to a lot more lately, and it's very satisfying to write in the throws of an anxiety attack x
Blake Oct 2018
I am me
"I accept you"
Who is me though?
"You're you"
I think that I might be ***
"That's ok I accept you"
I don't know who I-
"Just don't tell your dad"
But I-
"And don't be too open about it"
I don't think I like who I am
"Don't say that"
I feel repressed
"Stop looking for attention"
I don't think *** is the right term for me
"whatever just don't be in everyone's face about it"
I have a girlfriend now
"just make sure you two aren't obvious in public"
I want to die sometimes
"if you don't accept help now they won't fix you enough and eventually no one will help you"
"You're fine"
I am me
But I don't know who that is
Oh yeah. I forgot I saved this as a draft. But yeah. This gives you a teeny tiny idea of how it feels trying to communicate with my mother.
Hashim ZK Aug 2018
I want to lay bare the fire in me
before the spectators
I want to be the wisps of smoke
flying through their faces
liberating what lies entrapped
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