#purposeless
writhing in
her mind
another hellscape
trapping anyone
who looks in her eyes,
the windows
to the soul
she runs wild through
a forest of
whispering trees
calling out
but never to her
calling for the others
the betters
because she would never
be as good as them
how could they want her?
the trees whisper her name
as a crow flies above
a single feather falls
the train of shadows
moves on
stopping only
for her
she boards it
a single crow feather
as a pass
a boarding ticket
to the end of the world
the ghostly passengers stare
and turn away,
looking out the windows
to the white abyss
of snow
the endless rattling of the train
soothing
but unsettling
a bustling marketplace
when it stops
and she takes a step out the door
here they whisper too
she sees a knife glint
a golden coin falls
the train comes again
this time the pass
a gleaming gold
but now there is no train
only an umbrella
two boots
a raincoat
pouring rain
and a girl
in the middle of it all
the puddles reflecting
who she could've been
and who she was
but never her
Jan 20, 2025
Jan 20, 2025 at 2:35 PM UTC
In my beginning some thing created this purposeless mess that stands before you
Knowing my best would never be enough and still pushed me through like some kind of fuuck you
To who?
To the future me, to the tragedy I'd become ultimately?
That's a ridiculously high baggage fee
Especially for baggage bestowed upon me
If there's nothing he can't do then none of this is how it had to be
But nooooo,
He had to go and put in that god ****** fruit tree
©2024
Apr 17, 2024
Apr 17, 2024 at 4:16 PM UTC
crying out for help
just for no one to hear
leads me to think
dying out of despair
would have no one care
Mar 3, 2021
Mar 3, 2021 at 7:48 PM UTC
Purposelessness is a slow inferno.
You know you are not dying the next second, but the theatrical capabilities of your mind projecting the potential failure future kills you.
In fact, worse, it doesnt let you live.
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 7:29 AM UTC
Have you ever felt like
you're walking through
a cloud?
The noise surrounds
but doesn't
touch
you'r enclosed
but separate figure
In,
but out
The colors,
within your vision
but a blur
Once again,
Around,
But
Her gaze
naturally passes
By, his voice
directed
Some where else
Around,
But not to
Inside
But more like
Out
Walking
through
a
cloud
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
I came, or was ******
Into the world
A half formed thing
I have limped through life
The waters of the universe
Slip through my fingers
I cannot cup my left hand
To catch the falling stars
Nor have I, all my brain
With which to comprehend
The nothing, that is our existence
I have existed, set back
Striving, for chances
To be, the same
I have thrown away
Gold gilt books, of wisdom
And sweet fruits of life
To follow others, to rot
And ruination, to be in company
To feel normal, and be not alone
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 9:33 AM UTC
Spreading my words around like bumble bees with the pollen.
Spreading far like the birds when the sea is calling.
Spreading throughout your brain like a gentle virus.
These words calm you, yet infect you with darkness.
A man with out a cause, a man with no applause,
as everything he does is littered in flaws.
To truly know this man is not an easy task.
This man will only show you his mask.
He's deep like the great abyss of the ocean.
Like it's inhabitants, he's darkness in motion.
He's got many layers like the journey through an onion.
No mistaking this man for Paul Bunion.
His strength is depleted, and will, he has not.
What once was a man of life is now merely a robot.
Most times he dwells in the man who he believes is broken.
Leveled by his peers, his words became unspoken.
He used to stand out from the crowd.
Now he drifts through it on the cushion of a dark cloud.
Negativity is this man's birthright.
He will carry that burden until he can no longer stand upright.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 8:12 PM UTC
...and there’s no one there to hear it,
does it make a sound?
________________________
My poetry performed—
before a crowd of johnny-jump-ups
Their faces toward me in unison—
they listen
Intense, motionless energy
Velvet applause of purple and
Yellow yelling!
Encore
of performing in the perfume
with a troop of lilacs
They will remember me
While I— await their return to May
through billowing miles
of drowsing sachet
breathing euphorias
between the lingerie of clouds
What happens after ecstasy?
Grieving in life’s presence?
Loss of mind to self-possession?
_________________
...and when my sense of smell gives out
I will hold on for a while
to the walker of hearing
trying not to stumble past
the song of thrush
beyond me in the blurring leaves
once so clearly—
crinkled, shiny, and infant green….
_____________
As a child I held on to nothing
for dear life
I could cup a storm in my hands!
Could run with the rhythm of a horse!
I could fly in my mind’s eye
if the ferns I used were only wings!
If I pretended hard enough
I could eat my own home-baked mud pies!
If only I could be—
more than a fledgling of eight
so earthbound, clumsy
_____________
But while the lilacs were out of town
thunder met the flash
and gutted summer!
I ran for dear life!
from the amazing distance of its echoes
pelted by its gentle gift
Snagged by growing things—
the clinging prattle
of their momentous tendrils....
______________
Lovers run off the path
past water lilies
along the swollen veins to the river
toward a grave and pounding heart
The Ancient Flood was jealous....
Now when the wind softens
and rain is tossed
last, and only from the leaves
may their encore be cupped in the hands
of some passer-by
Remembering—
that either because of a trifling wind
or the weight of time...
a tree fell here
clubbing the river’s bank senseless
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
In this dance
I don't care
If you think you lead or follow.
Like your simultaneous presences in my
Head
Bed &
Heart,
My two feet encounter both
Split between realms
My arms embrace their own weight in various currencies
It's tallied in my brain
How each piece of clothing peels, falls, or floats away
Dexterously
And how the floor does not discriminate
From your cream adorned with curls
And your café con leche
But I never hear the fall
Like leaves shedding in an anti-gravity zone
Preventing finality
Just so we can slip back into our skins effortlessly
With four eyes shielded,
Blindly clutching creeds through winter
So as I purposelessly push last night's leftovers aside for tomorrow's,
I am satisfied that my shelf stays full
And my floor unstained.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 4:19 AM UTC
I'm a little bit terrified that I'm
A real life
Manic pixie dream girl.
What if I only exist
To help others
Find their place in this world?
What if I'm doomed
To float in and out
Of depressive episodes?
Never having actually
Done much of anything.
A depthless side character
In my own life.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 3:26 AM UTC
We are just ghosts
Aimlessly passing the time,
Forgotten places
Left behind,
Boarded up doorways
Stained by decay,
Restlessly looming
In the deepening gray,
Disappearing beneath
The undergrowth
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
I am
A street without a name
A pictureless frame
A dull knife
A still life
I am
A question mark
A smothered spark
An unread book
A stolen look
I am
A blank page
An empty stage
A heavy sigh
A passer-by
I am
A ship with paper sails
A train on rusted rails
A flightless bird
A Dream Deferred
I am
An overcrowded mind
A word that hasn't been defined
A lighthouse that no longer stands
Two feet sinking in the sand.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
i dangle my feet over the edge of hell.
i'll never do it,
but i wonder if i will ever be able to braid my hair by myself
tie my shoes
smile like a two year-old who thinks cookies are the purpose of having teeth and a tongue
if i search in darkness, i will surely find despair
and there is a cellphone light glowing in my face
as i write this
so i should pursue this happiness
this temporary thrill i get from internet existence
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
Bobbing up and down
amidst the sloshing waves,
the bottle floats on
carrying a message inside.
Hailing from forgotten hands
Searching for unknown lands
Its fate at the mercies of the deep,
ferrying voices from across the Sleep.
Under the sun and the moon,
Through rains and storms,
tossing and turning it travels
fearing every reef and rock
lest they should stop it
while life flows on past it.
Fearing lest it be broken
and the voices perish unspoken.
Not knowing if it will ever be picked up,
not knowing by whom,
little knowing that the one it seeks
had lain down his head in death's lap.
Wasted hopes now it bears,
inane memories and cares..
Without purpose,wandering..
In lifeless seas,ever drifting.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC