#neurotic
I need you in my life, baby
The only productive addiction in my future is to your proximity
A decade of scattered sorrows is but an aching blink when I’m with you
You manifest what I could never say or feel without the fear of exile
Rom-Coms hold no candle or wick to our story
Proposals would only seem like trivial when it comes to you and I
We’re closer than nostalgia and episodic memory
closer than gods and their devotees
closer than the dawn and dusk
when nine to fives carry you through a day
Yet despite our bond
only I can hear you, see you, feel you, think you
So with baited breath I speak your name, or at least what you are known as:
Imagination.
Oct 25, 2022
Oct 25, 2022 at 3:18 PM UTC
Tired of feeling exhausted
All the **** time.
Done feeling numb, empty
Every heartbeat void.
Well, it's legal... accessible...
It tastes pleasant...
It'll do the trick...
The kind of acceptable addiction
No need to hide
Flaunt it a bit
See if they care
Play it up
__Show them__
But don't forget to enjoy it, dear.
Feel your pulse in your wrists
s u r g i n g
c-c-c-c-ccount the dosage
80 mg..... 120 mg.... 300 mg..... 400 mg............
_Hyyypppeeeerrrrr_
__HIGH__
Where's that laugh been all this time?
Full of... joy....?
That smile cannot possibly be your own....
It's so....... pure.
And again here I am
Crashing from the high
Mild headache
Numbness returning
Depression invading
And you.
My neurotic shadow.
You creep back into my mind.
I hear the whispers of your familiar voice.
It makes me want to chase a different high.
One that'll leave a mark.
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 5:38 AM UTC
Dear Reader,
I give you permission.
I give you permission
to scar the spine
of this book
from the countless
times you will
crack it open.
I give you permission
to highlight
and underline
and doodle
and annotate
these pages
until they have
no room to breathe.
I give you permission
to accidentally
drop
wet
spill on-
backpack-shove
the cover.
I give you permission
to dog-ear the corners
when you've lost
your bookmark
(and your way).
I give you permission
to break in these words
with the same
calamitous,
neurotic,
frenzied
passion with which
I wrote them.
I give you permission
to make this
Poetry your home.
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 4:34 PM UTC
When only your embrace quelled me
Only your words soothed me
Only your affection moved me.
I have these fantasies that keep me pacified like a child. Tales of ultimate romance. And the pages are torn away, the story is in pieces. The neurotic are the closest to a true understanding of god;
Flailing with emotions, coming and going, painting you like heaven, their canvass on fire. I'm glad you got out.
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 1:28 PM UTC
In a winter reflection, through a cage of ice,
I watch a shadow of myself love you.
From a sunken place, I’m stuck,
Endlessly pacing within my head,
I’m stuck, a lonely, hungry tiger.
The coldness fills me slowly
as I watch you from my prison.
The bars to my cage pretend to bend,
but it is only a trick of the sun.
I refuse to leave the cage
even though I have the key,
for safety
for sanity
for selfishness
I swallow the key often.
The cage will melt eventually
so I will wait until then,
It is hard to hate for so long
in conditions like this
where every day the water freezes
and unfreezes and freezes.
It is hard to hate when her hands melt the ice.
Love freezes the pain and drips away everything else
Into the gutter, but the sun always falls, still.
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 11:52 AM UTC
I check my phone.
Its the same thing I saw 5 minutes ago.
I have no interest in my favorite things at this point in time. Even as I write this bit of prose I can feel that I'm not truly interested; I keep writing.
I check my phone.
20 minutes ago I zoned out while my favorite song was on and stopped singing.
When I was 16 I picked up guitar; my dream job was to be a musician, but then I turned 22. More recently my dream has been to find a dream in all the perfect chaos that is this world. "Are dreams a valid thought, or are we just told we should have them from a young age?", I ask myself.
I check my phone.
I should be leaving my car to go upstairs to my girlfriend and child.
I check my phone.
Why does my car feel like the safest place at times?
I check my phone.
JUST GET UP AND DO SOMETHING WITH YOURSELF.
I put my phone down.
Why am I not crying? Normal people cry.
Why would I be crying? I haven't lost anything worth mourning, right?
Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
I check my phone.
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 8:21 PM UTC
When the noise of exterior souls exceeds standards, I turn it off.
"Yo soy el rey"
My dominion stretches as far as my head to the soles of my feet.
And I'm walking the opposite way.
Like a genie who gets paid commission, you come to my space and exceed the noise standard.
"Yo soy el rey"
My dominion stretches as far as my head to the soles of my feet.
And I'm walking the opposite way.
They say I walk away half the time.
I get looked at funny.
I'm the local eyesore.
I swear, I'm not self-destructive.
When the moon turns crimson,
and the tide reaches the grass,
I'll say that I have the pizza you wanted.
The flavor is crowbar.
Your big head will be swollen.
God will **** you down to the flames.
"Yo soy el rey"
I swear I'm not self-destructive.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 8:55 PM UTC
-
if I don't really live
there can be no death
[10W]
SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/16/2017
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 1:39 AM UTC
Slither within my spine
Wither, within my mind
Doctor Jekyll, Mr. Hyde
One coin, two sides
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
Goodmorning,
precious nutcase.
Which side will I face today?
The neurotic one, to my dismay.
I can never tell which one you truly are.
I know, it seems bizarre
that after all this time
still I’m
so painfully unaware.
And I can’t force you to care.
How I hate you, Kerouac,
you made me believe I can live
with the crazy ones.
Oh how wrong was I.
After all this time
I still can’t tell which one’s the lie.
The one that l have to beg
and twist my arm out
to get attention
or the one that sends me
'I miss you's
etched in the sand.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
With everything I do
I will have the doubt in my mind
That the things I am doing
Are just to fill time
My empty accomplishments
My empty wall of fame
My empty heart beating
My empty full name
I lie awake tired
I lie here distressed
I lie here, my mind racing
My whole life a mess
I'm counting the hours
I'm counting the days
Until I can give up
This timeless charade
Dear god I'm not happy
Dear god I'm a fraud
Dear god are you listening?
Dear god, I've wrote you all along
When will this be over?
When will I feel full?
When will my life become everything everyone said it would?
When will I feel sure?
Dear god if you're listening
Dear god hear my plea
Dear god I'm begging you
Why won't you answer me?
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 2:04 AM UTC
The rumbling of the coming earthquake
echoes beneath my surface,
threatening the very idea of normality.
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 4:20 PM UTC
I'm smarter than
Most people i know,
But i've been cursed
With the ability to
Feel.
I have a multitude of thoughts
Being triggered every second.
Each with their own
Unique emotion.
I feel each one vividly,
And with amazing depth
Creating a storm in my head
Impossible to ignore.
My storm of emotions
Grows so strong,
It prevents the simultaneous thoughts
From being articulated
Or understood.
I can confuse myself,
And break my own heart
Because of the complexity
Of my mind.
An astounding talent, really.
My dad says I'm smart,
Too smart for my own good.
And he's probably right.
What good is a brain,
When your heart makes all the decisions?
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 5:11 PM UTC
She goes to therapy everyday with the angels
Tapping her shotgun to the beat of songs that sound like her situation
Tap water solids make her special needs
Wouldve been a worry awhile ago
Nows just a pleasantry that he's as dumb as me
Now
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 3:26 PM UTC
i can promise myself to you
because i've nothing to lose
if someone hurts me one more time.
i can be loyal
because i would betray myself.
can you do the same, honey, can you?
if you cannot , that's a good thing -
you're not as ****** up as me,
you've still got a sense of self.
but there is no 'me' - i am only made of others.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 8:56 PM UTC
Racing thoughts are not an
internal contradiction.
It's not crying while laughing.
It most certainly is not an inept,
young adult that describes
their mood-swings as being "bipolar."
Don't fret,
because I will explain,
in depth.
At this given moment I can list pages upon pages of what it isn't. And that's the point, maybe, considering that these racing thoughts have created enough points to produce a stippling picture of an overall paranoia.
Four days into this headache, an unattainable inquiry is not reason.
It's not reason.
Not reason.
Not reason.
At this point in my life there is nothing to achieve by convincing strangers of my sanity. No matter how many times I may try and blink a person away, it just leaves me with tired eyes, and in the end, less credibility. I'm gasping for air with a plastic bag wrapped around my head, praying that my body can find peace and not twitch. But I'm fooling myself, like a friend, your friend. One that exclaims love and intimacy, but is given a kiss on the forehead, blocking my third eye.
Then after a tumultuous day of unknowing and racing thought, I'm left in a neurotic state, waiting for a cool down period before I'm left
toxic and unwanted.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 2:13 AM UTC
**Shroud me in charcoal clouds
and let the frigid autumn wind caress my skin
suspend me in a womb of hidden truths
and bury me sweetly in a hallowed and nihilistic tomb**
So why are you astonished
in this world of rot and *****
when our child-like elations become extinguished by adult realizations
and innocence is *****
**So Shroud me in charcoal clouds
and let the frigid autumn wind caress my skin
suspend me in a womb of hidden truths
and bury me sweetly in a hallowed and nihilistic tomb**
when fear consumes you from the inside out
and all the walls are closing in
I will be your friend
Who can you trust and where do you go,
When you feel so ******* hollow.
When you've bitten off much more than you can swallow
and you watch your dreams slither down the drain
What will keep you sane?
**So Shroud me in charcoal clouds
and let the frigid autumn wind caress my skin
suspend me in a womb of hidden truths
and bury me sweetly in a hallowed and nihilistic tomb**
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC