#ml
DON'T LET HIM TOUCH YOU.
his hands are stained with history,
a softness already spilled,
tenderness that dripped into someone else’s skin
before it ever reached me.
it isn’t just a body he pressed against,
it’s the devotion he swore was mine
but it seems like
it had already been rehearsed.
every kiss i imagine
is a repetition,
a shadow of a shadow.
what is left for me?
if his lips already knew the map of another face?
the thought rots in me.
it grows claws in my stomach,
it curls into disgust so sharp
i wish to recoil from his arms.
my brain screams:
DON’T LET HIM ANY CLOSER,
he’s contaminated with loss.
i try to breathe,
to tell myself love isn’t rationed,
his isn’t a one-time currency already spent.
but my body doesn’t believe me.
it writhes at the memory of them.
it trembles at their connection.
the way he once held her
means the way he holds me
is counterfeit.
i want to claw their kiss
out of my memory.
i want to bleach his past
until it’s blank.
but when he speaks to me,
i remember her
burned into my recollection.
like a painful souvenir.
his tenderness feels borrowed,
as if he’s lending me scraps of a script
that was written before i arrived.
and always,
i stay.
even while disgust coils like smoke in my chest,
even as i ache to scream:
DON’T TOUCH ME.
..your love is secondhand.
because beneath the agony,
there is a quieter wound:
a fear that there is nothing original left,
that his devotion was a candle
already melted for someone else.
i am terrified
that all i continue to taste
are the ashes.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 8:24 PM UTC
1:45 - Go to the party tomorrow
1:45 - No
1:46 - Go to the party tomorrow!!
1:46 - I can’t. We have a no contact rule.
1:50 -̶I̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶i̶t̶’̶s̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶’̶s̶ ̶p̶r̶o̶b̶a̶b̶l̶y̶ ̶b̶a̶d̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶m̶e̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶s̶m̶i̶l̶e̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶h̶a̶n̶d̶s̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶I̶ ̶h̶u̶g̶g̶e̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶,̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶s̶k̶i̶n̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶b̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶i̶d̶o̶l̶i̶z̶e̶d̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶f̶e̶l̶t̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶a̶r̶m̶s̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶f̶e̶l̶t̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶l̶e̶p̶t̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶-̶ ̶b̶e̶s̶i̶d̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶-̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶ ̶n̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶a̶n̶ ̶e̶n̶t̶i̶r̶e̶ ̶y̶e̶a̶r̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶I̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶p̶e̶r̶f̶e̶c̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶f̶e̶l̶t̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶n̶a̶k̶e̶d̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶a̶ ̶t̶h̶u̶r̶s̶d̶a̶y̶ ̶a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶n̶o̶o̶n̶,̶ ̶a̶l̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶r̶o̶o̶m̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶p̶a̶r̶e̶n̶t̶s̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶h̶o̶m̶e̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶d̶r̶i̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶a̶t̶ ̶n̶i̶g̶h̶t̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶d̶r̶i̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶h̶o̶m̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶p̶l̶a̶c̶e̶ ̶-̶ ̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶p̶l̶a̶c̶e̶.̶ ̶A̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶e̶s̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶i̶t̶’̶l̶l̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶ ̶i̶f̶ ̶I̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶t̶o̶m̶o̶r̶r̶o̶w̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶i̶t̶’̶l̶l̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶o̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶l̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶,̶ ̶a̶ ̶l̶o̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶s̶a̶y̶ **** ̶i̶t̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶.̶ ̶B̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶y̶e̶s̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶m̶a̶n̶y̶ ̶c̶u̶t̶e̶ ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶s̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶m̶a̶n̶y̶ ̶o̶p̶p̶o̶r̶t̶u̶n̶i̶t̶i̶e̶s̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶.̶ ̶F̶r̶o̶m̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶h̶a̶p̶p̶y̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶f̶e̶e̶l̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶’̶s̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶d̶ ̶b̶y̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶o̶n̶l̶y̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶h̶a̶t̶e̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶I̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶r̶e̶v̶i̶s̶i̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶.̶ ̶P̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶ ̶g̶e̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶.̶ ̶P̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶a̶p̶i̶s̶t̶.̶ ̶P̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶ ̶g̶e̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶l̶p̶,̶ ̶b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶l̶a̶s̶t̶ ̶d̶a̶y̶ ̶I̶ ̶s̶a̶w̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶,̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶b̶e̶a̶u̶t̶i̶f̶u̶l̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶I̶ ̶s̶a̶w̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶f̶i̶r̶s̶t̶ ̶d̶a̶y̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶t̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶k̶i̶n̶d̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶u̶n̶d̶e̶r̶s̶t̶a̶n̶d̶i̶n̶g̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶l̶i̶s̶t̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶m̶e̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶m̶a̶d̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶.̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ ̶t̶o̶o̶k̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶m̶y̶ **** ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶s̶m̶i̶l̶e̶d̶ ̶b̶a̶c̶k̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶.̶ ̶A̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶h̶u̶g̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶k̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶t̶e̶l̶l̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶e̶,̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶k̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶g̶i̶v̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ ̶f̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶m̶o̶n̶t̶h̶s̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶g̶o̶d̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶I̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶ ̶u̶s̶ ̶b̶o̶t̶h̶ ̶m̶o̶r̶e̶.̶ ̶S̶o̶ ̶p̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶,̶ ̶g̶e̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶t̶o̶m̶o̶r̶r̶o̶w̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶w̶h̶o̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶m̶o̶r̶r̶o̶w̶ ̶-̶ ̶b̶e̶h̶i̶n̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶d̶i̶a̶g̶n̶o̶s̶i̶s̶.̶ ̶B̶e̶h̶i̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶p̶a̶i̶n̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶
1:50 - Okay.
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 4:49 AM UTC
If I'm worth the fight,
then I can take a hit.
It isn't whether I win,
it's if I refuse to quit.
That's funny, because just wait,
for about 24 hours.
Where I'll gain the tremors,
but lose uncertain power.
An inner conflict is my battle,
but one I don't think ends.
Should I be authentically useless?
There's a home I could transcend.
I could ascend upon my limits,
I'm a king to every kind of thinking.
I control my darkness,
in the rapid form of blinking.
Open, close, open, close,
My fists could match the sides.
They're knocking on my skull,
of course I'm gonna abide.
I lost purpose when I dropped value,
when nothing stopped me from the pain.
if all I give to the world is anger,
why shouldn't I receive the same??
---------------------------------------------
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 9:45 PM UTC
LOL is different from Lol,
LOL is League Of Legends and Lol is Laugh out loud.
ROS is different from Ros,
ROS is Rules Of Survival and Ros is my Rules of Saving (You).
ML is different from Ml,
ML is Mobile Legend and Ml is My love for you.
But Online Games are not so different from Me,
Online Games are the things you play and Me is a piece you also played.
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 3:47 AM UTC
For far too long
we believed our skin had scars,
Walking naked
Only to hear the society's broken interpretation of deviants and devotion.
Dooomed....
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 4:41 AM UTC
His cement touch grasped my lungs,
cracking down on the system we had made.
My mind is not quiet until it is numb,
compacting a road for old memories' sake.
This ground takes place in the back of my head,
the gravel makes bumps I always displace.
No one will come; calling 'No Road Ahead'
I am lost in this part for most of my days.
The colder it is, the more likely I'll freeze,
keep driving this way to try and find home.
Frozen in time, I don't know the ease,
between what is 'home' and a house no one knows.
I isolated my heart from the world because nobody cares,
it is worthless to think of myself with emotion.
I'd rather continue just driving this way,
and force myself to keep going through the motions-
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
I think I lost my mind,
Between finding myself
And letting parts go that
I'm not sure of anymore.
I needed the strength to bind
My brain together, but what's left
Isn't enough, and getting it back
Is leaving my heart sore.
Friends are slipping away,
Because I do not have control
Over what I do, or if I talk
About the pressure of being myself.
Sad thing is, I'm losing more each day,
The war opened up my soul,
I knew I was not
Normal since I met this hollow desk,
And my mind worked itself away-
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 11:03 AM UTC
We have incentive to collect our fears,
replace them with hope in the incoming years.
But we tie them off and leave them alone;
stash them away in the deepest parts of our bones.
Stamp them in blood, or tears we forgot,
switch off the trauma and train of our thoughts.
The tracks mail letters, to the backs of our minds;
a land unknown from the depth of our blinds.
I promise you, this ill way of thinking,
doesn't solve the problem, nor help it sink in.
Someone will find them,
somehow deny them,
for the points you could've made;
and the pain you couldn't take-
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
If you'd notice, you could see the way he lost his mind,
shattered on the tile floor he donates to. The coats of bandages
that soaked right through. You can feel the lack thereof in effort;
and I'm not saying you should be the one to save him, or that it's
your fault, all I'm saying is that the signs were there,
and you didn't notice for the sake of "I'm doing better now."
Maybe we become denial, or numb to the stone cold facts in
front of us. We shouldn't side with anger because it's easier;
rather lend a hand to someone lower than us in the hopes
you'll raise the rock-bottom people and awareness that this
effects more than obviously-
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 10:57 AM UTC
It's a constant battle.
I'm finding shells on my floor,
and a flood of defeat.
They got me again.
They tore up my flag;
and flattened my heart that scoped out nonsense.
I'm getting into fist fights with the mirror.
This world doesn't matter to me.
My bleeding nose and horrid mind are too naive for you to think that I am free;
breaching a shadow too small to cover me.
Mediums hover me,
and you call to connect with me.
Against my brain;
and induced will.
Against reality to assist a thrill-
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
I'm not staying,
it's my blame.
I'll leave the innocent;
I'm not the same.
I've got blood on my hands.
Pressure to understand.
You're right.
You've always been.
I tend to forget.
I won't bother you,
still my existence bothers me.
My mind smothers me.
The nights scare me;
comfort is scarce.
The dark makes things worse,
and this silence hurts.
It can be so loud,
the noise of nothing.
The sounds of your thoughts,
utterly isolated.
I love y'all;
but I don't love myself
I can't live up to what you all think of me-
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 10:44 AM UTC
My visuals are out to get me,
Drive in front and claim the safety.
Pull a map and divise a route,
To keep me from my- too loud. too loud.
You take the wheel,
I'll fake a path.
The road divides us
From future and past.
I wanna drive back,
until then i will roam.
the seats of tanned memories,
remind me of home-
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 6:36 PM UTC
I'm emotionally detached,
in twenty nine days ninety panic attacks,
I see through your eyes,
straight to your past,
the times that you meant it when you really laughed.
Your crescents hate light,
and descend through the day,
I'm deciding my mind between painful and sane,
dividing a line between not okay and opaque.
I know my life's doubtful,
more mournful than most.
Lost in translation as feeling the least,
a leash on my brain and one sense of release.
I wanna meet sharpness to puncture my breath,
rather than losses I can't reconnect-
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 11:31 AM UTC
If I could mount that rock to my forehead,
the demons I'm fighting would finally go.
I know the risks of one last blow.
Visibility is prevented from me, by me, divided.
I choose sadness because it was all i ever felt.
This plateau of emotion will eventually
**** me-
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 7:15 PM UTC
The attic attacks me, won't back
me up in fights with my heart.
Dust will conclude how long I've
been afraid, cleaned for the
dusk; I don't know my name.
Wading in rivers for its own trade,
confront the buyer at higher
stakes than the owner, lower I fall.
"Tone down the pain" mediocre
control over what I am and
what I will become, my thumbs
pricked for another accusation.
I'll discuss my problems only the
world can understand, privated
and classified; I am just a man.
I am just a boy, and these passages
aren't used to show how much
better I've gotten, only if I say I do.
These words and all the strings
of things I can collect, are something
much more deep than you'll ever comprehend.
you believe I am recovering,
because that's all you're allowed to see.
Can't you sense the great dispense
that one day I'll look up from your feet?
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 4:54 PM UTC
I'm really not who I thought I was,
how do you move on with life
when you place it to pause?
I am the boss to my own mind,
but cower at each door it confines,
to condone the person I could be and
wrong the person I wish I was,
I'm the boss of my own mind
but a slave to what it does.
Died to a coward that
hides behind demands,
and the density of this reality is
what weighs my bones down,
some of you know what this is now.
What it means to be shackled
to what you hate,
here have a go at the scariest
things your head can make.
The thoughts that break
your heart but tell it to go
faster,
faster,
faster....
Running after something
you'll never reach,
and as I'm running forever
I can't move my feet
off this bed,
inside my head I'm growing tired,
so my eyes will never open;
and I'm hoping you know that I fear
when I get older my memories will wake
and it'll take me,
too late to save me.
Why bother even
waiting?
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
His fingertips are doused in gasoline,
setting fire to everything he sees.
Each object he touches,
all the memories collected,
ash away and fall to crimes.
He's got eternal flames inside him,
and yet his eyes remain dimmed and submissive.
He's fragile and fractured,
and as his last heart string crackled,
you could see the hope unlit.
Fires and unsettling demons
are all he even seems to remember.
He might try and set his body ablaze,
to calmly dry off that crying pain,
sadly sticks and stones withhold his embers.
He won't die, but he can't learn,
the anguish manipulated to feed a burn.
His life was hanging in a balance of dry anger,
rather the deployment of washing hurt again,
he thought would dehydrate its annual return-*
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 7:57 PM UTC
Pines littered my unlively heart, once a rooted place; with branches of family, sprouts nothing more than unwanted pain.
Trees filtered the rain and hale, marching upon my veins; leaves wither now, roaming a terrain of deserts and unanswered lies.
Tumbleweeds, each one of a kind, bellow in the wind that dried my brain, refraining the saplings from hope, holes built in my body for no other process than causing emptiness, a sense of memory that was once before.
Not anymore, I feel nothing.
I do nothing.
I am nothing.
I'm inhumane, unwillingly walking to the past; lurking from the windows, one broken and one stained, I know now that my hurt was never tamed.
It just laid, pulsing through my feet; hiding as I am now, you hear a sound from outside, a purposeful blow from the wind.
There goes my brain.
There goes my pain.
Goodbye-
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 3:33 PM UTC
He slipped too many times for it to be accidental,
Gurgling underwater; and sinking from the vessel.
He too, had supplied the deaths aboard the deck,
Where drowning and breath paddled; all atop his neck.
Do you know his struggle, until you've met the sea?
Where fish swim past on their way, and you clamber just to breathe.
Sputtering on bubbles, his exhaling's a crusade,
But please don't feel bad for him, that's just an average day-
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 3:52 PM UTC
He's not what you think,
And he pretends you know.
The more he confiscates the worry,
The more it seems to show.
He's walking around the lies,
As they pile against his skin.
So at night; he'll break the doors,
And flood out what's within.
Pressing the lock into his throat,
He glides the key straight to his heart.
Stop the plane in his head,
Before it can depart.
He's convinced this plain is unwelcome,
Underlying a helpless glow.
This seed planted inside him,
fixes fears no one truly knows-
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 6:44 AM UTC
A kingdom built on his guilt,
You'll watch his eyes slowly tilt.
Breaking under the pressure,
His pain is difficult to measure,
Do you know his heart lays still?
Pupils with shards of darkness,
And a quill profusely sharpened.
I think he missed the target,
With his soul from black to scarlet,
As it dripped atop the marble.
He doused his hands in cyanide,
To try and disintegrate his pride.
And sadly, all his colors went,
Along his shaking final breath,
He's grey and aching inside-
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 11:49 AM UTC
I clash into my fabric,
Like it's the waters of a bath.
Behold the ripples from my fingers,
Before I walked upon their path.
Pills are skipping stones,
That land at unsteady feet.
I'm falling, or I'm drowning,
Sleeping with torture underneath.
With Carnations at the bedside,
The yellow won't change my hue.
For their inexplicit meanings,
Are wrapped in dripping blue.
And the taps rung through my head,
Were the bath; now forming puddles.
You asked how I had left,
But you didn't notice the bubbles
---------------------------------------------------
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC
I will go where the swallows go,
following orange sunsets and
amber wings.
I will search for bottled letters,
written in the dawn of future,
for something more than bottomless worry.
I will go where the swallows go,
sleeping in the marshes' hollow,
I only hope for tomorrow.
My lungs may burst as I cover my nose and mouth,
I give my strength to the waters now.
With its will; I could too, learn to fly.
I will go where the swallows go,
because where they lead, I do not
know, but it's something better than here;
a being to cease my
fear--
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 11:54 PM UTC
Dirt crumbled at my feet, as moths finish off my sleep. My whole skull is uncovered, unconcerned with greener leaves.
Will this comfort ever stay? I'm losing hope as it decays. Decorate my heart with iris, because its carcass has faded grey.
Lace my body for the crows; nest my ribs, and clean my bones. Residue of torture palpitates, from within its catacombs.
Who knows when winter will come, so freeze your lungs until they're numb. Because breathing isn't worth this turmoil, and I think the dark swallowed your Sun----
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC