#conflicting
When people compliment me,
I feel a crisis of identity.
Was it I whom they were referring?
Or was it someone more fitting?
If I saw what they see,
Perhaps I wouldn’t be,
So self-deprecating,
Maybe…
If I saw what they see,
I could confidently,
Lower my walls and be me,
So much uncertainty.
I’m not one to accept compliments lightly,
I consistently convince myself that I’m not worthy,
Of their praise or their appreciation.
Cursed self-deprecation.
How could I accept such an honor,
When I look in the mirror,
And see,
Someone other than what they are praising?
If I saw what they see,
Perhaps I wouldn’t be,
Filled with anxiety,
About whether or not I’m being true to me.
And if I believed,
That I was what they see,
Maybe,
I’d feel happy…
Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 3:04 PM UTC
i wanna claw
my eyes out
then put on
my favorite movie
to be soothed
by the dialogue
as the blood
rains down my face
Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 10:30 PM UTC
we can be at the same places
at the same times
but no two people
will ever experience it the same
one mind sees chaos
another is at peace
one sees growth
another is dormant
which one sees clearly;
if either at all?
perhaps both only live in a cloud of obscurity
each guarded in their own way
too close to see actuality
& embroiling what is simple
nevertheless
they choose to walk away
at odds with themselves & the world as they see it
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 31, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
Its hard sometimes
to feel the lust.
To feel the genuine gaze of longing
from eyes that see passed flesh ripping pulls
and grasping fingers. Your nails
leave trails along thighs that disappear
into the hairs. Like rivers on a map
where streams are crossing
violently and parallel.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 1:13 AM UTC
If some one stabs you in the back,
see who pulls it out.
There the ones you have to be careful of.
Because if they saw who did it and didn't
stop it..
they just wanted to see you in that pain.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 6:13 PM UTC
Now it ends.
The lies and the deception.
Now it ends.
What I thought we really had, a connection?
Now it ends.
All the love and affection.
Now it ends.
Take your luggage and find a new destination.
All I wanted was to share your real emotions.
But you showed me you were more than just a distraction.
When you leave I hope my life recovers from this state of depression.
Now it ends.
Who you are.
Now it ends.
Who I am.
Now it ends.
My daily conception.
Leave my wretched soul because I am not giving you anymore attention.
♚
Kunbi_dia
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 5:48 PM UTC
Donald Trump's presidency
Is one of the greatest achievements in art I have ever experienced
And Trump is a true artist
He takes words from the page
Like corruption, disenfranchisement, xenophobia
And brings them to life
Highlighting fear and paranoia so clearly
Contrasting the blacks and whites
Emphasizing anger
While reminding us we're mere infants
In the digital age
And warning us of our seniority
And capitalism's
We all like to think life has meaning
Until we hit an animal with our car
Then that's just the way things are
And I'm staring at an absurdist painting
Of a child driving a car
Through a herd of sheep
As I watch a heist film
Where the robbers turn their guns over
To the mentally unstable guy in the group
Trump is a national artist
Placing riots on the map
And drawing infernos on the Internet
His art forces an opinion
Everybody has something to say about him
And it's all true
Even the pages he ripped from his own cabinet
Tried to villainize him in their script
But he was already an anti-hero
The humor is that the mud slung onto him
Is dirt kicked up from his own tires
I guess if you surround yourself with hateful people
You're surrounding yourself with people who probably hate you
Trump's art is deeply conflicting
He reminds me of the people who want me to live in shame
Yet he embodies the individuality that separates me from that shame
His insecurities remind me of myself
High school is the White House in the eyes of a kid
And I had secrets I wanted to share
But felt I couldn't
I learned things
That changed my entire perspective
And didn't think people would understand
Afraid of being assaulted for my indiscretions
I hid behind a boisterous personality
And a nonchalant attitude
Trump's art evokes sympathy and hatred that feels so strong
When he holds a mirror defining our worst qualities
To a man viscerally opposed to his own reflection
The confliction of emotions
Is the hallmark of great art
We are all artists
The lines we write or the strokes we brush
Are in our actions
And Trump's canvas displays
A life filled with accomplishment
Inspiring me to live my own life
But I still wake up in cold sweats
From the American dream
That anybody can be president
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 6:39 AM UTC
for so long,
i made one with the cracks in the road,
making sure i never stepped on one.
and i never cared to notice
how tired i was from doing it.
maybe it was because
the innocence
and easygoing youth
shielded my eyes
like the white linen curtains
that used to hang lazily on my window.
for so long,
the nine o’clock news
never bothered me
as much as it does now.
and the fact that everyone seems to drag their feet
at the same miserable pace
never struck my mind.
days keep growing faster
at an undetectable rate,
and i’m just starting to see that.
maybe it was because
reality tore the drapes down,
letting all of the light
shine on the things that were
left in the dark.
because growing older
was one of the things
that i chose
to leave in the corner.
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 10:26 AM UTC
Oh my, noone ever told me it would be this hard...
To be so in touch with your emotions,
Right from wrong,
But still choosing to do wrong.
Is it the selfish gene taking over,
Or is it the fear of the unknown?
Am I too caught up in the safety of this home,
To break through and be on my own?
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 10:48 AM UTC
When I was knee high to nothing
I asked inquisitive questions...
And with those answers I became me..
I would want too, if now, I asked the question??
If you are which you say? why so many books!!
If reality was based, wouldn't one book suffice,
But you made conflicting interests, like baiting
a hook. Why do we have to be slaves to ourselves
always begging on knees. To those of confused
reflections seeing you in themselves, but all the time
wording it to make them hate, difference of man
and woman others not he same as me?
but you conflict with love and preach the other thing.
If I was to ask one thing?
"Were grown now, out of the cradle of insecurities,
"Are hand needn't be held, were stronger without you,
"I am me, not a reflection of your confused morality,
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 3:46 PM UTC
It's not that I don't feel I'm good enough for you,
It's just that I think you deserve the world.
I might be only one man,
And the world is too big for me to carry,
But I'll bring you the moon so you'll feel the weightlessness I feel around you.
But I'll bring you the stars, the ones you used to live amongst so you'll always shine.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
Loving you,
Was as easy as loving God,
Some days it worked out,
And others,
I couldn't force you,
To love me back,
And I knew,
I was less then God to begin with,
That's whats so ****
Conflicting,
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC
**I am one voice I am alone
But I hear a ringing in the
Distance, It could be imagined
I could be only one in this land
Of perpetual darkness.**
*Could there be anyone else but
Me, I hear echoes as if something
Far but near, I am in the vastness
Of a blinding white, There has
To be more to this than me.*
"I run in blackness never a direction seen"
"I run though blinded by what isn't seen"
*I reach this edge as if a finite space,
Mirrored, contorted images,
An aura of what that which is
Opposite to me.*
**Running until I hit upon a enclosed space,
I see a detachment of what is viewed.
I'd look upon, as my features blinded
By this reflection of confusion, bathed
In purest puzzlement.**
I touch the boundary
I touch upon the confines
"Yours"
"Ours"
Palms grasp upon each, a moment of clarity
As what was single parts unite as a merged
Thought of right or wrong, a conscience,
Of two parts that on meeting became the
Same but singularly separated. Voices that
Speak in sync, but always different
together and apart as one.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
READ EVERY THIRD WORD
Absolutely undoubtedly, I really truly can't express my hate for despicable him. The memories though, were unforgettable, I won't even try.
(I sincerely mean both sentences within this thought st the same time.)
Repost if your thoughts argue with themselves like mine.
Please comment I love to read interpretations of my work and really any other thoughts you may have! :)
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
To say no,
God I did.
But the mutineer in me,
Just couldn't help itself.
And so I said yes.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
you were a reckless tearaway arriving
to take the heat with a debt reckoning
in Sunday skies marked for duckbill clips
of dark filled entries on its balance sheet
a challenging force I felt I had to account for
a raincheck that I wanted to cash in on
before the heavens opened and blew me away
knocking at my door for a riot of rebellious
adult licence needed
love to be let in
you agree we meet outside in the gathering storm
for there's a multitude of conflicts to be resolved
stark contradictions and that's what excites
with you there's upsetting imbalance involved
upending equilibrium with blunt direct questions
and reactions like a Luddite with the mind of a librarian
so that I never quite know where you're coming from
but know the answer is next
written bold on the sheet
which has your signature on
I predict with a scrawl
but that you think
is kinda neat
"throw me every strain of emotion you can pick up"
and you do and your wake never lets me down
propelling a wet film wind machine
should I withstand its crazed delivery?
those sheets of rain that blew in
off the bay
you always try
your best to tear
across
I feel them shooing the air
into my lungs
winding up branches faster and faster
like a toy plane rubber band
dancing in my hair
this way then your way
until it stood on end
scared
to not go on and on
the way of so many plucking ideas
drawn from the spoils
of let's-play-chicken arts
found on the tables of tattoo parlours
when the shades roll down
and pages flick quickly as dices roll out
extremes in exfoliating salon sport
close shaving loose leaves off every hairpin bend
and scratching the bald patch
ever more bold
as if you liked transplanting bulbs
follicles in deep crimson beds
of eye poppy temperatures gone wavering
impossible to ignore in a flash of eye shadow
from a bouncy bobbing weaving
pony tale conductor
keen to take on electric vaults
showing me a pair of high heels
whatever
I ****** at your scurrying reins
my grasp like a wind slipping
through a shake of tussled vanes
black curls of wild abandon
whipped up into a shift dress
in shades of grey flight
centred in misplaced miss red
lipstick outline worn to a fade
over the top of the roots
rushes **** the breeze with pollination
as full on as a full Brazilian headdress
collected from a gazillion dipping flowers
a rainbow opening to shower off
it's end in privacy
high pitched screens
little cover in those shorts of ours
from a summertime blanket of rain
which you turned up to cloud my thighs
always thrown over and folding your way
ace-of-spade cards played torn
and ragged with bare laced love
thrown down with on-the-river sneers
cornered with those winking semi-colon smiles
open ended to point out the end will be fun
but I get your gusting gist in the mean time
determined to wheedle the worst in me out
which looking up is on its way now
and when the lightning will stop dancing
is a rough reckoning I'm not ready to say
but in the eye of this exciting storm
it's clear
not tissues not anything
need wipe these slate skies clean
from our trail blaze
my tearaway
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
I can't have these feelings but I do,
And unfortunately it's for both of you.
Although, technically it's the same objective,
The situations come from opposing perspectives.
I feel everything I can imagine possible,
But the ending result is nothing probable.
My soul feels empty, echoing deep,
And now all I'm begging for is answers, or sleep
Whatever comes first and lasts the longest,
Whichever has effects that work the strongest:
My poisons won't save me this time,
No, with this one the responsibility is mine.
And I'm sorry if my pain hurts you so,
But i swear it's not your fault, I know:
I did this to myself, now must face my own demons,
Alone I must fight until I discover the reasons.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
That's what you used to call me
Always with the smirk on your face,
and the squint in your eye.
Leaving traces of your love across my thighs.
You'd hold me by the throat
I loved it cause I wanted to die.
Because I couldn't cope
that I fed you with my lies.
You didn't deserve my ****
and you haven't been the same since.
You'd go through the pain as long as I stayed.
So beside you I laid in order to keep you sane.
But I continued to use you,
was honest and told you I was doing so.
Told you I needed to leave you,
cause I was only going to keep hurting you more.
Your response was telling me you loved me,
I started to tear up, told you you're delusional.
You grabbed me by the face and kissed me,
attempted to get sensual.
But I just had to walk away.
I knew I couldn't stay.
I hope you'll one day forgive me
for not being in your life.
Forgive me for the confusion
and the strife.
****
That's what you yelled when I closed the door.
I'm sorry I don't need you anymore.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 4:42 AM UTC
sure she's likeheaven but angels stillfall
sometimes
the risk is worth it all.
perfection or illusion
what an enticing delusion
nonetheless
the question proves a fight
do i potentially complicate her life
further
my thoughts reach oscillation
certain until uncertainty's persuasion
descends
a thought like no other
and soon follows another
quickly
they bounce through my mind
now it's even harder to find
a decision
left between cognitive dissonance
then suddenly in this instance
Nothing.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
Have you ever wanted something so badly, that you forget the
repercussions?
When you gaze into someone's eyes and can see their past.
And can imagine their future.
That vulnerability so fragile.
Putting all you have into their hands, and praying for a miracle.
That connection that breaks your heart, brings you to tears,
and that makes you feel alive.
Is that what love is?
Wanting to be so close to someone,
that you read their every thought.
Gripping that overwhelming rush that bends and shapes your soul.
Accepting all that they are.
Every single freckle, word and flaw.
Is that what love is?
A speechless hold envelops your whole being.
And shakes you from the inside.
This strange and haunting need.
That will forever captivate you and turn you back and forth,
within the soft touch of Love's hands.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 3:47 AM UTC