#bon
I can feel you laughing down my neck just like it was yesterday
I can feel those beige walls pressing in
Slow dancing on an open grave
Twisting the knife into my skin
This isn't self harm this is processing
This isn't nostalgia this is letting go.
Winter air wrapped in red so many layers I almost couldn't hear what you said
All draped in ice and grace
The world isn't as small and snug as it used to be
The world is too near and is not gentle with me
I remember
The way it felt when you crossed the room
And I remember
How it felt to leave too soon
I am not my brothers keeper
And you are not the boy I thought I knew
But winter rises ominous and waking before me
and my hands are already turning blue
I'll hold you if I want to.
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 3:12 AM UTC
How am I anything more
Than an inflated sack
Packed with meat and bones
For this monster to
Lick his lips and gnaw on?
I am the epitome of
This demon's lavish feast,
The one that whispers to me
Words that roast my mind
And he keeps on adding spice,
Waiting for the chance
To rip a chunk from my heart;
But that would be too easy,
He likes the way my tears taste
And why would he end his pleasure?
The demon plays with his food:
This is how I am devoured
By this ruthless thing I call Depression.
Some days I am so done,
I just whisper, "Bon apétite".
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 3:37 PM UTC
What's called "Good Morning" in English,
"Guten Morgen" in German,
And "Bon Matin" in French,
Is called "सुप्रभात" in Hindi and pronounced as "Suprabhaat!"
I had been studying all night,
And probably now I'll sleep.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 7:48 PM UTC
Come on skinny love just last the year
Pour a little salt we were never here
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer
I tell my love to wreck it all
Cut out all the ropes and let me fall
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Right in the moment this order’s tall
I told you to be patient
I told you to be fine
I told you to be balanced
I told you to be kind
In the morning I’ll be with you
But it will be a different “kind”
I’ll be holding all the tickets
And you’ll be owning all the fines
Come on skinny love what happened here
Suckle on the hope in lite brassiere
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Sullen load is full; so slow on the split
I told you to be patient
I told you to be fine
I told you to be balanced
I told you to be kind
Now all your love is wasted?
Then who the hell was I?
Now I’m breaking at the britches
And at the end of all your lines
Who will love you?
Who will fight?
Who will fall far behind?
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
slowed breaths and an aching heart,
shrivelled tissues and torn sleeves,
suddenly don't seem to exist,
suddenly don't seem to matter anymore.
because you've reached that moment when the world just explodes,
when you can't contain your emotions a second longer,
when everything you've ever wanted to say comes spiraling out in a jumble
of mixmatched words pocketed from years of love, hate, isolation and determination.
when you feel uncontrollable,
in a good way,
when you feel reckless,
but powerful,
when you feel so incompetent,
but on top of the world.
everything that's ever ended on a low note has been tuned up so that high voices and beautiful noise is all that you'll ever speak or hear again.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC