Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
My legs and arms feel like they're stuck in mud
Trapped in a swamp of murky memories
A liquid so thick it hurts my lungs to fight the sinking
But theres no reflection here
So I won't let it swallow me
Most of the time I forget I'm fighting
The pain is so typical my body feels numb to it sometimes
But when I'm not rejecting my reality
Or repressing my circumstances
The all too familiar feeling
Anchors my body down so heavily
That even the idea
Of continuing to fill my lungs each moment
Is exhausting and debilitating.

The rare moments when I let myself feel things are excruciating
Anxiety claws through my chest
Like a rabid raccoon fighting for freedom
As terror bubbles through each of my muscles,
The only remainder of proof left
From the unspeakable and disgusting acts of others,
The memories I don't have anymore
The ones I choose to forget.

And yet they still keep trying so hard
To **** me into them
To make me remember them.
I didn't ask for this.
I didn't ask him to touch me.
I didn't ask her to hit me.
But I'm the one who's still stuck here
Fighting my past
Fighting myself
There's no reflection in this sludge of memories
Because I can't bring myself to look for one
I'm afraid that if I see myself in it
See what they did to me
See what I didn't do to stop it
I'll lose the last bit of sanity
That I am so desperately holding on to
Between the home and the word
Lies silences that will guard, like blackout curtains,
The condemnation of memory
Her face a straightjacket.

Is this bravery tapping past
the smallness of the kitchen
Sighing at the clear sunlight of twilight
Mercilessly liquid, revealing nothing--
That samizdat illness.
Sometimes life is all about appearances...
exist Feb 18
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
Jo Swan Jan 2
We drank a cup of Oolong tea,
its forlorn fragrance wafts;
atmosphere awkward with silence-
ineloquent like writers first draft,
this tea taste of grievance.

Stumbling lips, we finally talk.
Woeful, you asked me why
I choose to leave and walk-
bidding you with heartless goodbyes.

My eyes fogged by tea’s heat;
tears form like dews of rain,
forehead furrows in sweat-
emotions rich in pain.

We drank a cup of Oolong tea,
This moment I’ve long dread!
Whirls of traumatic emotions
had left me angry red-
your actions were ghastly.

For many years we did not speak.
Bitterness brewed in tea,
memories of the past all bleak,
my self-esteem you’ve malign.

Oolong aftertaste so unkind-
our past painted with hurt!
Will my emotions blurt to
reveal repressed resentment?

We drank a cup of Oolong tea,
my mental assailant,
I shall not fear your chide.
The truth shall be revealed,
no longer my voice shall hide!
chichee Dec 2018
In a sermon, the preacher says:
"God created us in his image,
all who desecrate themselves
too destroy a part of God."

I've murdered pets and
alphabetised people by
sense and style and laughs like
a rack of dresses.
I've kissed girls just because
they said they could never like me
like that
as if their lips were some
sacred maiden's blush and not
a pair of fleshy rims.
As if I couldn't read their
***** little ******* fantasies
underneath those
angel faces.

Susan from accounting thinks I need
to see a therapist. I think she needs to see
a mirror. We don't really get along, but ****-
maybe if drink enough
these clocks
these blue collars
these billboards with the pearly white teeth
won't look like straightjackets anymore.

I have this thing where
sometimes I'm just so tired
of being a body.
The world's a ******* advertisement,
Everyone with their scripted
good mornings and
chemical feelings
down to the last **** t.

My skin is a cage
and I'll ***** it off like
a *****.
Why be happy when you
could be interesting?

Love like a bluejay,
Fists in our stomachs-
The headlights of a car coming
at 80 miles an hour straight at you,
pummeling in a stream of light.
The taste of a cigarette after
it's been on someone else's lips.

Don't you dare tell me you understand.

When I tell her this
my therapist only smiles,
Darling it's only purgatory.

Allen knew. Nietzsche knew. Woolf knew.
In all our hearts-
We've already killed God.
Experimenting with voices, Richard Siken, Frank Bidart, Allen Ginsberg. Title taken from a Hozier song under the same name.
Carter Ginter Nov 2018
Why is my mind
Convincing me I'm bored
As I sit across my love
We're both working on our art
In this beautiful coffee shop
We're an interesting team
Only an arm's length between
Blue and purple hair
I know I am not bored
My brain is simply on a strike
There's a lot of painful thoughts
Anchoring my heart into darkness
"Boredom" is not correct
I simply cannot find an escape
Strong enough right now
To pull me back out
Back into living this life
I'd rather repress all of the pain
(Though it blunts all of my positive feelings too)
I'd rather simply hide behind
A phrase so simple as
I'm bored
awknight Nov 2018
Twins, two of one face
Spinning across time
Past workings of innate fate
Force shut the bleeding eyes
Black under the light of the night
Warmth runs between the other’s fingers
Blood anxiously circling around itself
Find home in its cooling on the skin
Must pull open the lids to find the irises
and they fall like pedals into folding palms
A crushing weight.  

I am free again
Her eyes are gone
The blood is drained
Face disintegrates  

She drags her bones across my flesh
internally I ache,
but the irises imbedded into palms
give me fight and take away fear
of her resurrection.
we all have that one part of ourselves we want to keep dead
Sketcher Nov 2018
Met them with no tears,
But I need to see them more,
First time in ten years,
We're all broken to the core,
That makes four of us,
We have to stick together,
That's just it, we must,
We need to make things better,
I love them deeply,
And it's always been that way,
Couldn't see freely,
Just one hundred miles away,
They say the past is in the past,
But the past can not be erased,
That's why I wear this mental cast,
And swallow this metallic taste.
Met my mom and little sister for the first time in ten years. Also met my little brother for the first time.
Next page