Some people will often list the smell of rain among their favorite smells, but to me it is an awful stench; a reminder of that hellish night.

Some people are made giddy as they watch the dark clouds gather and anticipate the droplets, but the air of excitement is something I dread; it suffocates me.

Some people watch the cars zoom by and admire that sound of the wet pavement hissing in response, but this noise is associated with a memory that holds me captive; it is a prison to me.

Some people find the smells and sounds of rainfall to be soothing, but I feel as if the world is mourning with me on these rainy days; a storm played in the background the night my life was shattered.

Some people marvel at the beauty of the shiny streets and lights reflecting off the water, but I cannot admire these things for fear that I might get stuck in my head; my mind might get confused and think we're back living that night again.

Some people used to include myself; no longer, but there is not a day that goes by that I don't pray I might one day return to the world's collection of some people.

humdrum 2d

when i was younger
i expected to be an adult
by now but mostly
i still feel like a
scared kid
14 wanting to be 16
16 wanting to be 18
19 wanting to be
anything else
everything seemed easier
when it was years away
but now i'm caught in
the middle of my mess
wishing i would have
seen it coming

Rain drops dropping on your dry soul
Wet hands now clap of laughter
Low in self-steem now flying higher
Weak in imagination
scared to see a future without her
She is deeper than the ocean floor
You shallow as a river filled with rocks
Emotions fueld by your insecurities
Now you are scared to be
who you are supposed to be
Stagnate in progression so you regress
Take a million steps backwards
Scared to move forward
Fearing the future
lacking the idea of growth
That one knee will never see the floor
Because you can't see a future with her
But you hold on to her like ransome
While her next one is dying to find her
Leave her be so she can be
free to find her one true love
Her next one

Silence is deafening
My thoughts can no longer hide in the seams
The shadows have voices that are beckoning
I am stuck in a world of in-betweens

Darkness befriends the elusive
While honesty is embraced by the light
I created a maze of reclusiveness
The windings my approachable-self wants to fight

This type of existence is confining
The needing a breakthrough, but afraid of breaking free
I permitted my solitary life to define me
Instead of letting all the peering eyes see

The ebb and flow of being receptive
By allowing What Will Be...To Be
It is free-thinking from a different perspective
A stark contrast to the lonely life of ME

Vanessa Evans Sep 11

love has always been my drug
what i needed in my veins
and when i met you I thought
you were the dealer of my dreams
but lately
it seems like
you used all the good shit, first
now laced and deadly leftovers you offer
still i crawl back

addicted to my own demise

Luis....please. I need more then this.
Josh Mayesh Sep 7

Like you,
I read "The Giving Tree"
When I was young.
And I drank in that definition of love
With my roots.  
I wanted to be that tree.
I wanted to give that love
To everyone; to someone.  
And you found me
And carved your heart on mine.

I have the scar.

And I felt loved
For a while.
It felt good to give;
It felt good to see your smile,
For a while.  
It felt good to give you shade and shelter,
Stripping and shedding
Everything,
For you.
And it became our life.

So how could I blame you for the way you were treating me
Shearing me
Expecting me
to Give,
to Love,
to Serve—
Even when you no longer recognized me?

The rings on our fingers
Spoke nothing of the truer rings,
The rings recorded in me.  
It took many years to learn,
Many years to chop away at that old definition,
Many years to rip away the rotting bark,
Many years of knowing that
A tree is always there because
A tree’s roots are stuck within the ground.

But I am not a tree.

Being with you
Is being alone
It's loneliness
to the second power.

When I’m with you
I'm at my loneliest
You turn my Fridays
Into rough Mondays

When I’m with you I'm at my loneliest

sorry, I can't come
why?
I'm not feeling quite well right now.
ok.
ok. /I'm sorry/

I found myself surrounded with such figures
I cannot fully apprehend
now, when I say I'm not feeling well,
I mean I'm stuck in my bed waiting for the day to end
when I say I'm not feeling well,
I mean I cannot function well at the moment
and when I say I'm not feeling well
I mean I cannot go up and make all the self-pity thoughts go away.
now I just feel the need to say sorry
for everything
for how I can't be just a normal kid
for how I afflict in anything
for, even, me just existing.

09/02/17
.
Wasting wits Sep 1

I'm sorry I've pulled you into this place,
That consists purely of the havoc I create.
I did not mean to do so,
It was a pure mistake.

Now you're stuck here,
The doors are closed.
The windows boarded,
All feelings disposed.
I've done this before,
it's nothing new.
I promise it's really me,
Not you.

In a weird place and not sure how to proceed forward.

The brisk winds numb my paled skin.

As I walk through the desolation,
my feet fall into the sunken path.

Shadows of trees encapsulate me.

In this world devoid of color,
I look
up
to
the sky
in hopes of pastels.

Yet
I see not a cloud in the sky
nor a bird passing by.

For in this eternity,
all but I
have taken flight.

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