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Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 4:01 AM UTC
86 an 88 -
What's the solution?
-2
May 16, 2025
May 16, 2025 at 4:55 PM UTC
I want to barbarically remove my heart
And lay it like a horse head on the pillow next to you
Then challenge myself to get far away from you
Before the inevitable collapse from the lack of a heart
©2024
Oct 31, 2024
Oct 31, 2024 at 3:33 AM UTC
I removed my heart to keep it safe from those who label me heartless
I'm no good at noticing the double edged, backstabbing nonsense
I shattered my own heart, tore it apart, and put each piece in their separate compartments
An interesting story plot borrowed from Tom Riddles Lord Voldemort, I have my own horcruxes
Oh but I don't want to live forever
Just need a little relief lever
And make it harder to get at my more fragile components
©2024
May 30, 2024
May 30, 2024 at 3:57 AM UTC
I want too mean it when I say I'm working to improve
But I know I'm on borrowed time due too a marriot of conflicting issues
Turning greener pastures different shades of blues
Most of the root doesn't even originate from my property,
Still the hardest to remove
Doesn't help I'm held accountable for the damage my damage,
Caused by others mind you,
Always accrues
I think I've overpaid my dues
©2024
Mar 17, 2024
Mar 17, 2024 at 10:19 PM UTC
I have a lot to prove
I have even more to lose
If I forgot how to move
Would you risk a mile in my shoes?
Much of my heart I've had to forcefully remove
Just to hide the fact that I'm affected by the abuse
And maybe convince myself I'm of some use
A far cry from the sorry excuse of a life as a light fixture hanging for a noose
And even though it seems to always be me against myself it's still lose lose
So I hoist a white flag but my mind isn't interested in a truce
And ignores my pleas too please just cut me loose
©2024
Mar 17, 2024
Mar 17, 2024 at 10:14 PM UTC
Loneliness steadily chisels away my soul
Colder each moonlit night
Where heart was located is now just a hole
Empty bed without love will never feel right
Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 2:37 PM UTC
When my hands
succumb into numbness,
When my feet
descend into paralysis,
Would it catch your sight?
Will my little whimper
fading into silence,
Would it touch gently down
on your ears?
When the last
Spirit and Breath
Dissipates
Will anyone bat an eye?
Would it mean anything
Around the cacophony, as I die?
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
To the limits!
And the heaves are harmed, in our lungs
and arms. Tendons flexed on their utmost,
and breath at play in the drowned coast.
To the shores!
And the leaves are left as specks of colour,
from the moors.
and vacations left the hinterlands
of the decayed, breathless holler.
For the greater good we stood as imagined heroes,
Yet for happenstance to lend a chance in our woes,
required a great many motifs
to clamour and climb
In glamourous time
to the raised butte
of a finishing sublime.
Modulate the past and harmonize the future.
Together tapestry'd, akin to patchwork suture.
We weren't raised this way.
To remain forever at play, workhorses neigh.
And sawing brilliance and sawdust eyes,
rapier wit with no equal.
But together a two-parter,
to the shores to see the sea quell.
Wildfire lick like lit flame.
Burn it all down and give me the blame.
It's a carried burden worth the worry.
In mountains some exist as prideful barons.
Barring the loss of their barren,
their smiles turn smirks of heathen carrions.
Which is fine, and the motif licks again.
And the motive is sublime; it's only sin.
Cherish the children and their rue of thresher-born,
Thomas Ligotti and his party of philosophy,
but I'm too caught in histrionics to allow the matter
to matter.
Beyond the kicking feet of the mirthful pitter-patter,
pitted against the coming solstice of time saving;
forward and back and ouroboros we may.
Hold on tight to this singular day.
Ignorant of the causes of our own decay.
Lost during summers covered in spittle and seaspray.
Only to mount a return, a loss,
to the area most unaccepting of the cost.
To the mountaintops!
**** what you see, and reap what you sow.
Push the mountains down into the crow,
and call out for the all the denizens below,
"Here's another landslide." As you call; Heave, and **
Pile them neat and plant a seed,
of a tree that hasn't belonged or had a chirped song
in a placidity.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 4:24 AM UTC