There are sometimes just too many words, to use, to pick or say, we think we have them sorted, and then they slip away. We know the right ones and plan what ones to use, until we get all flummoxed, leaving ourselves confused. I used to be good with words, but they've vanished from my lips, if you're good with words yourself, please give me some tips!
A simple poem, lighthearted. Writing is slow these days - it's not just themes and topics, but the words don't flow as easily. This poem portrays every writers anguish as they soul search for some new creative flair!
Come, come with me, honey. 🍯 This afternoon, I'm so *****. 🎺 Come to the deserted beach, 🌊 I wanna eat your red peach. 🍑 Let's make love in the sand, 🌴 Just gimme your **** hand. 💅🏼 Let's sink in each other's love, 😍 Just kindle this glowing dove. 🕊 Obfuscate my afternoon light, ☀ Let me give you a love bite. 👄
Why do I feel like I’m drowning? If I didn’t get into the pool yet. There’s only a few moves I do regret. Needing a lifesaver just to feel safer. I’ll speak on any topic if you pick the flavor. Luckily, writing is my form of therapy on paper. Basically, it’s my only savior when times are major. Why keep these thoughts in my head? I rather speak on them now, rather than later. You can’t express yourself let this be a favor. Maybe me writing this you can relate to. We both trying to find an exit to escape thru. Trying to fight it these feeling is uninvited. Maybe no one will notice if I try to hide it. But which will suffer more them or I. A question I always ask myself. It’s usually between him or I. If I free myself from this pain, Will I Rise? Is the suffering too deep in vain, Will I Die? But still I try to keep Hope and Will alive. The moment will be gone and the sun will arrive. So until this day is over I’ll say “I Will Survive!” Just Keeping Hope Alive from Drowning...
Cicadas hum quietly, amongst the summer choir. Locked doors, birds on their wire's. Keep from harm's way, but thorted by desire- Blinds colored gray block out humanity.
These dreams speak to me through insanity, a tv plays white noise, my mind is in calamity. As nightmares creep in through my eyelids, amid the darkness of this quiet house.
This is my Strauss- wooden floors entirely silent, the thoughts inside are violent. Recalling Baptist Hospital. No cart rhythmically on call, a nurse alloting me two pearls to swallow.
Making the sea of seretonin flow, making happiness through my body grow. Tonight, I take my trazadone no longer resembling a pearl, my toes curl. At the bitter taste, following the nightmares that make haste to follow me to bed, praying I don't wake up dead.