#emptied - Hello Poetry

I usually medicate put a bandage on my deepest wound wrap it up in until my bodies covered like circling crows flying above my vacant decaying body Now so hollow during a endless desert summer mirage my minds an emergency firetruck on red alert now walking miles on and on to catch that always distant black pond Typically caffeines my impulsive fix of the day trickle it through the cracks of floorboards im a prisoner directly under every drip that lands on my tongue resets the tiny numbers spin the briefcase dials like a ticking time bomb the squad can barely manage it they constantly in fear they will clip the wrong wire an explosion suddenly goes off a 3rd world country gets the worst of it a mushroom cloud slowly expands getting fed from all of my disruptive thoughts reaches little kids playing hopscotch a mother breastfeeding her newborn a merchant selling the last of fruit its his best day Yet im across the world and I can barely get out of bed political sticker still falsely states we're the greatest colony brew up my second dose continue to comatose maybe the war will finally end

0

Dec 1, 2020

Dec 1, 2020 at 4:26 PM UTC

Wanderingsoul

Circling Crows

I usually medicate put a bandage on my deepest wound wrap it up in until my bodies covered like circling crows flying above my vacant decaying body Now so hollow during a endless desert summer mirage my minds an emergency firetruck on red alert now walking miles on and on to catch that always distant black pond Typically caffeines my impulsive fix of the day trickle it through the cracks of floorboards im a prisoner directly under every drip that lands on my tongue resets the tiny numbers spin the briefcase dials like a ticking time bomb the squad can barely manage it they constantly in fear they will clip the wrong wire an explosion suddenly goes off a 3rd world country gets the worst of it a mushroom cloud slowly expands getting fed from all of my disruptive thoughts reaches little kids playing hopscotch a mother breastfeeding her newborn a merchant selling the last of fruit its his best day Yet im across the world and I can barely get out of bed political sticker still falsely states we're the greatest colony brew up my second dose continue to comatose maybe the war will finally end

76

there’s a gouging hole where my chest used to be ever since the moment i met you a tiny piece of me has crumbled and fallen to the floor leaving trails of myself as i pass and over the months as i have been chipped away at my soul has emptied i’ve grown tired of the pain i’ve grown tired of the wanting and the longing i’ve rushed to pick up pieces of myself again but i found that they don’t fit i am not the same anymore we are not the same nothing will be like it was these months have sloshed like water, up and down and now the water is gone a new tide has come in and i don’t know how to fit here in these waters what to expect from them acceptance rolls in between my fingers touching my skin and begging to be absorbed this past month i have been playing with it in my hands, feeling its tacky sticky texture it promises no returns, only a way to pick up my pieces again and fill in the gaps you left, with it’s presence i lay on the ground water laps at my body and pushes bits of me into the holes they once occupied i lay my hand is now covered in it, the acceptance i lay in the slowness, the grey sounds of the water filling my ear and there is nothing i can do but wait wait for the acceptance to over take my body wait for myself to be whole again i remember your face and i wonder how that’s ever possible and yet here i am, being put back together and remedied here i am waiting for my impossibilities to soak into my skin and become possible here i am

0

Dec 25, 2017

Dec 25, 2017 at 5:36 AM UTC

greenmintleaves

recovery

there’s a gouging hole where my chest used to be ever since the moment i met you a tiny piece of me has crumbled and fallen to the floor leaving trails of myself as i pass and over the months as i have been chipped away at my soul has emptied i’ve grown tired of the pain i’ve grown tired of the wanting and the longing i’ve rushed to pick up pieces of myself again but i found that they don’t fit i am not the same anymore we are not the same nothing will be like it was these months have sloshed like water, up and down and now the water is gone a new tide has come in and i don’t know how to fit here in these waters what to expect from them acceptance rolls in between my fingers touching my skin and begging to be absorbed this past month i have been playing with it in my hands, feeling its tacky sticky texture it promises no returns, only a way to pick up my pieces again and fill in the gaps you left, with it’s presence i lay on the ground water laps at my body and pushes bits of me into the holes they once occupied i lay my hand is now covered in it, the acceptance i lay in the slowness, the grey sounds of the water filling my ear and there is nothing i can do but wait wait for the acceptance to over take my body wait for myself to be whole again i remember your face and i wonder how that’s ever possible and yet here i am, being put back together and remedied here i am waiting for my impossibilities to soak into my skin and become possible here i am

33

There is a poem I have yet to write, For how does one write what only the heartless can feel? I speak with shards of my memory, For I am simply a shell of what once was. I love with my blood draining from my veins to write life, love in the empty white spaces. I am incapable of extracting my soul from the gallows where it remains chained to my hast been. But one can pretend to comprehend the foreign language that is my one and only fear.. love... For love is tempting and even the empty long for impossibility. I can say I love you in a emotionless and heartfelt tone. For I love you in my own coldness, seeing hope is still resting on one side of your ruins, while mine was emptied long ago. I need not feed your ears or your heart lies to speed you to recovery, but am content to give you the tiny morsels of me that remain so that your wounds May bare only scars in remembrance. I unlike you bare no signs of redemption, so I freely give you what is still free of rot and withering so that you may live with me. I am simply and only a shell with little crystals to give, For love once passed through me walking away with my soul, and love is now far beyond the reach of my door.

0

Jun 3, 2017

Jun 3, 2017 at 2:25 AM UTC

ashna-ali-khan

For love that is beyond my door

There is a poem I have yet to write, For how does one write what only the heartless can feel? I speak with shards of my memory, For I am simply a shell of what once was. I love with my blood draining from my veins to write life, love in the empty white spaces. I am incapable of extracting my soul from the gallows where it remains chained to my hast been. But one can pretend to comprehend the foreign language that is my one and only fear.. love... For love is tempting and even the empty long for impossibility. I can say I love you in a emotionless and heartfelt tone. For I love you in my own coldness, seeing hope is still resting on one side of your ruins, while mine was emptied long ago. I need not feed your ears or your heart lies to speed you to recovery, but am content to give you the tiny morsels of me that remain so that your wounds May bare only scars in remembrance. I unlike you bare no signs of redemption, so I freely give you what is still free of rot and withering so that you may live with me. I am simply and only a shell with little crystals to give, For love once passed through me walking away with my soul, and love is now far beyond the reach of my door.

14

Colours. The Arc is a contrast to the stark, overcast sky. There are, two end and there are two sides. Meeting means to collide. Box emptied of vacation memories, blossoms of plastic, frozen faces. Broad smiles, hid the lies behind the lines and teeth, bits of sand, those once were hot, Between the ugly toes, grains now discarded, But no more enjoyed, the mind is blind to the litter. what was toyed, with blackmailed emotional *** of gold. The Colour has drained away, rummaging in this, in the dark is too damaging, with gritty fingers, on delicate nerve tissue, softly, please, mind the Grey matter.

0

Feb 16, 2015

Feb 16, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC

darrell-wade-elverum

Rainbows and Happy Places

Colours. The Arc is a contrast to the stark, overcast sky. There are, two end and there are two sides. Meeting means to collide. Box emptied of vacation memories, blossoms of plastic, frozen faces. Broad smiles, hid the lies behind the lines and teeth, bits of sand, those once were hot, Between the ugly toes, grains now discarded, But no more enjoyed, the mind is blind to the litter. what was toyed, with blackmailed emotional *** of gold. The Colour has drained away, rummaging in this, in the dark is too damaging, with gritty fingers, on delicate nerve tissue, softly, please, mind the Grey matter.

30