Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nik Bland Oct 10
You are as you were
No more needing to be said
With eyes that bore tears in joy and sadness
And heart that consistently bled
And mine and your hands locked together
To brave life’s twisted sense of humor
And I knew that, in that, we’d overcome the world

We were never perfect
That’s needing to be heard
Ever present were these jars of truth
Bitter tasting, well preserved
With hands clasped we understood it could not be fathomed
As we locked eyes, yes, words, yes, but never hearts

Maybe that’s the good in it
A gift in cross’ed stars
The reality of a ever present door
That we both know is ajar
The knowing that the hand we hold can build the other up
With the power that so easily can rip us apart

You were the one I’d always wanted
I was the one you leaned upon
With me not knowing what you were
And your faith in your strength long gone
My love for you unending, understated, undeterred
And your love for me one undoubted, but for me undetermined

Each time you speak I hear you
This world’s distraction become blurred
You serve your homemade truths
And I swallow every single word
Can’t decipher lies because I know only what you convey
And in that, you’re the most honest person I know

Our views of each other work
On the level that was stand
Where we get to choose what we convey
As we offer each other a hand
The preachings of the lying tongue and giving of stolen things
An knowledge of the mystery forever kept

Maybe this is not worth the chance
Our self destructive ways
The pure carnage we could leave behind
In our search to escalate
Satan’s aspirations to rise are what led to the fall
So maybe to stay divine, we must stay content

And so we look, we taste, we hear
And we feel that that’s enough
Maybe in leaving the uncertain just that
The relationship is safe from us
Or maybe this is just the lie we earnestly believe
In fear that the rise will be more painful than the fall
Ashley Kaye Aug 2
flitting in haze
tarries above minds eye
the unsavory bits
of memories
not by today
but curtailing sense of tomorrow
of another day spent listless
Maybe your eye crawls
beneath its lid

The stomach whines
“Don’t forget to eat”
yet there are many
who do.
Rot to overripeness
apple of the human experience
long years of the same gruel of life
from a food line

aren’t you starving
by now?
hear your innards howl
tangle themselves into that faux funnel cake
you ate when you were five
it’s rather difficult to stave
off the past alone
Do you not live?
The doctor tells you so
Your heart beats your mind runs
away sometimes
Sleep on.

little one
Next time you go
Out to wander
The streets of the breathing city
Consider some curtains.
July 19 2019
Rowan Jun 26
Let’s make this my way
a dash of something I won’t talk about
a flood of thoughts I repress and a dozen quacking ducks,
where did they come from?
No, that doesn’t matter,
nothing matters, not in this world we live in
China’s ‘ethnic cleansing’
Venezuela’s corrupt regime
ICE and US Border Patrol
Must I go on?
Oh, alright I could but I’m not sure everyone wants to hear about
how wrong they are
because obviously the solution to a venal government who only wants ‘what the people want’
is to shove a horse in a hospital, right?

Ha, but what’s the point in talking about everything wrong when we could
just not talk at all?
After all, that’ll cover everything else.

Depressed? I’m fine.
Anxious? Are you sure?
Every other spectrum, fix isn’t the word
here we show you how to get better,
we don’t fish out a black striped tie because
that’s too much of a blanket statement
about what, I don’t know.

A flow of red sludge, is that blood?
No, that’s the sea bleeding pollution,
hey, while we’re on the topic,
how about the rainbow painted oceans
castrated by the slick money maker?

Meh, what with a shoreline I can’t really control,
there’s a bunch of squiggly lines over in the upper left corner
and a random splash of water all over the canvas that’s not waterproof canvas
there goes California, Virgina, Manhattan, and Iceland.

Do you have a morsel of food?
Take that law abiding citizen and toss her into the category of ‘alien’
because she looks criminal, right?

Hey, they said you’re not human, are you?
Nobody asked.

Are you listening yet? Yes, you!
Red or Blue?
Green or Labor or Conservative?

That’s how it goes, or so I’m told,
I don’t really know how other countries work,
but the War of the Roses was pretty cool.

Oops, there goes your head,
wait that was the reign of terror.
Well, it seems quite terror-y again.

Finished? Maybe, I can’t tell,
the thoughts just kinda blurt out onto the screen
between the neural connections and my fingers,
Science rocks!

Of course, silly me,
You want to hear more, what an idiot I am.
Here, just look online, you’ll find another ten thousand reasons
why my generation wants to die.

You thought that was the end?
What a fruckle bumbler. I made that word up in my head
but guess what? Urban dictionary already has it, funny how it works.
Or not funny really, just… cruncklesnajin.

Hmm, I’m good at this. No, I’m just tired
of living where sharks and quicksand is more frightening than
the money disparity
of living where religion isn’t supposed to be a part of the state
that’s what they wrote, and I’m nineteen.

****, I’m only nineteen.

Let’s make this my way,
without my control,
without my considerations or desires or thoughts or power,
who’s to say? Perhaps I’ll find out tortoises speak sanskrit, because that how that works, or they’ll find another dead body in some back alley and we’ll shrug our shoulders with apathy, it’s just another day, have some tea.
smc Apr 26
acrid molecules
on eagle's wings
tabasco-rimmed lids
cinders soar drift swirl tumble

here is
sit stand pace writhe
sleep sinks

perched corpse
paint curls
lunchroom chair

purple red swish
twenty-five cent piece
clink whir thunk
vitreous spittle

esprit de l’escalier
lake Apr 24
I don't like what I see when I wake up
Connecting my thoughts but they just break up
Every step's a compromise, telling perfect lies
But you know that I can't pull a wool over your eyes

GPS is gone, I gotta find my way
Can't get lost in what the voices say
Afraid of tomorrow and missing yesterday
Drowning in sorrow, I already hate today

I can't do it anymore, I can't open the door
Losing my center, lost sight of my core
Wasting my time looking back on days of yore
Looking for something that's still in store
Walking these aisles felt like a mile
Hanging on like a WinRAR trial
Why can't I let it go? Why can't I take it slow
Down a slippery ***** and it's getting cold
Watching people take my place, and thinking that's okay
I guess I'm just complacent, with nothing else to say

Watch your mouth, don't let it come out
Don't let them know what you're all about
Next thing you know they're gonna drown your shout
This is one hurdle you can't walk around
How are you gonna find your way out now

GPS is gone, I gotta find my way
Can't get lost in what the voices say
Afraid of tomorrow and missing yesterday
Drowning in sorrow, I already hate today
Cup Noodles Feb 12
the days have been silent
the nights grown longer
the mornings are murk
the afternoon sears
as days are as dragging as nights

out the window the colors are dull
but in this room no color appears
and in these thoughts are cages
the rooms sound way better than
where am i now

my own consciousness hinders me
my own consciousness hinders me
Nik Bland Jan 21
Some days
She finds
Self-destruct switch
A life
Her own
But different

The steps
She takes
So delicate
As not to
Still leave
In living room

But better
Are craters
Of shrapnel
Than to be
Feet embedded
In a place
Where she
Only vacancy
m Dec 2018
comfort; a sin and a saint,
false hopes and warmth
between the sheets of cotton.
weaving my hands into the threads,
my hair binding feathers and freckles
to this tiny piece of satisfaction
amongst the twisted doubts of December.

episodes of expectations;
hollow danger diseases threaten my
humor, humanity, humility;
i am frightened that my future
will implode, that the earth is dying,
that my words are not good enough,
that i am not good enough.

so this comfort i am clinging to,
sinking my nails into, resting
my head upon,
is keeping me from moving forward,
but saving me from giving up;
my stagnant sanctuary of twenty-two.
depression dreams and procrastination poetry
Talis Ren Nov 2018
Time and time again
The hourglass shatters
I drown in the sand
My memory in tatters

And when I come to
I cannot remember
If reality is a ruse
Or if fate is being clever

Time is a blasphemy
A venomous oath
A losing eternity
Damning us both

That stretch of oblivion
That merciless prison
That curse the Goddess hath wrought on me
How I loathe it
Next page