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#resurrect
two tickets to barcelona sants I told you I missed my flight my bus broke down halfway into London and tonight i'm crashing on someone's boyfriend's couch it's a quarter to three and all I hear is arctic monkeys inside a funeral hall where I wore black lace like an unburnt witch and resurrection like a diamond ring and I feasted on the thought of how close I was to being whole again because you thought I'd die without you but life is more than just a memory of you
0
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 3:43 PM UTC
Resurrection.
I. Most days I’m great, I’m pretty average looking but I’ve got a personality That’s much bigger than my physical body I’m goofy more than I’m serious And I procrastinate more than I should Most people call me the energizer bunny; Always running around brining energy and smiles Most days, that’s me. Just your average normal person; Not every day is perfect… There are good days,                       bad days,                              better days,                                   worse days &                                          worser than worst                                                                d                                                                    a                                                                       y                                                                           s II. How can a day be so bad that you make up your own version of “worse” you ask? Well those days go something like this: The air is heavy, My senses are heightened I can feel every droplet on my back My lungs are tight, but not quite tight enough to be suffocating My throat is dry, I can’t tell if I’m burning hot or freezing cold. I get dressed, I go about my day. There are good things. There are bad things. The bad things always stick on these kinds of days. Inevitably, I can feel my anxiety begin to grow It begins burning in my chest first, I can feel the toxic attitude begin to bubble beneath my skin Destroying everything inside I am painted red with an unexplainable anger and rage I sit alone, until my anger devours itself feeding on its toxic irrational thoughts III. This is when it happens, the (worser than worst) It’s always when I let myself let go of the anger, When my voice resumes its normal tone and pitch, When my breathing is in sync with my heart, And my once raging and thrashing thoughts Begin to quiet and wind themselves down It’s always when things start to feel okay again Then it happens. I’m walking in a crowded subway station Hundreds of voices around me, yet they all drown out each other Until a loud one breaks through the rhythmic hum of a busy commuter city My body responds automatically searching for the noise I see her in the distance, Dressed in all black For how cold it is, she’s not wearing nearly enough She’s old. Her face tells stories Through the hard-pressed lines and crevices of her weather-beaten skin, Her skin shows it all, A Face that has laughed, cried, and experienced Her eyes are glazed over Chills run down my spine so suddenly I’m almost startled It’s the eyes, It’s always the eyes, they always trigger me I can feel you in the atmosphere Pressing your cold pale lips to my ear and whispering “You couldn’t save me” “You’re forgetting me” “I won’t let you forget me” I stand motionless trying to will my body to move It doesn’t. I watch the woman for a bit longer Lost in her own world, eyes glazed over and lost I feel sorry for her and then I feel it Like all the muscles inside of me are suddenly limp and weak With all my effort I push my feet off the ground So, focused I don’t notice the tears streaming down my cheeks I walk away in disappointment I do what I do best, I leave And as I do, I hold my breath And count I count until the numbers feel right And until I force myself to forget your presence And the lingering guilt that still takes root In the void you left behind. IV. Most days I’m great, Just your average normal person, Most days are easy enough to get through, It’s the few days, The ones spread so thin throughout the year The days that remind me That eyes are truly gateways into other places It’s those days That being to engulf the great days Beneath its roots of your memory And I am reminded that after all of these years, If you can manage to keep resurrecting yourself Through the people still on this planet Than my words, will once again resurrect with you. For you.
0
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
Resurrection
I. Most days I’m great, I’m pretty average looking but I’ve got a personality That’s much bigger than my physical body I’m goofy more than I’m serious And I procrastinate more than I should Most people call me the energizer bunny; Always running around brining energy and smiles Most days, that’s me. Just your average normal person; Not every day is perfect… There are good days,                       bad days,                              better days,                                   worse days &                                          worser than worst                                                                d                                                                    a                                                                       y                                                                           s II. How can a day be so bad that you make up your own version of “worse” you ask? Well those days go something like this: The air is heavy, My senses are heightened I can feel every droplet on my back My lungs are tight, but not quite tight enough to be suffocating My throat is dry, I can’t tell if I’m burning hot or freezing cold. I get dressed, I go about my day. There are good things. There are bad things. The bad things always stick on these kinds of days. Inevitably, I can feel my anxiety begin to grow It begins burning in my chest first, I can feel the toxic attitude begin to bubble beneath my skin Destroying everything inside I am painted red with an unexplainable anger and rage I sit alone, until my anger devours itself feeding on its toxic irrational thoughts III. This is when it happens, the (worser than worst) It’s always when I let myself let go of the anger, When my voice resumes its normal tone and pitch, When my breathing is in sync with my heart, And my once raging and thrashing thoughts Begin to quiet and wind themselves down It’s always when things start to feel okay again Then it happens. I’m walking in a crowded subway station Hundreds of voices around me, yet they all drown out each other Until a loud one breaks through the rhythmic hum of a busy commuter city My body responds automatically searching for the noise I see her in the distance, Dressed in all black For how cold it is, she’s not wearing nearly enough She’s old. Her face tells stories Through the hard-pressed lines and crevices of her weather-beaten skin, Her skin shows it all, A Face that has laughed, cried, and experienced Her eyes are glazed over Chills run down my spine so suddenly I’m almost startled It’s the eyes, It’s always the eyes, they always trigger me I can feel you in the atmosphere Pressing your cold pale lips to my ear and whispering “You couldn’t save me” “You’re forgetting me” “I won’t let you forget me” I stand motionless trying to will my body to move It doesn’t. I watch the woman for a bit longer Lost in her own world, eyes glazed over and lost I feel sorry for her and then I feel it Like all the muscles inside of me are suddenly limp and weak With all my effort I push my feet off the ground So, focused I don’t notice the tears streaming down my cheeks I walk away in disappointment I do what I do best, I leave And as I do, I hold my breath And count I count until the numbers feel right And until I force myself to forget your presence And the lingering guilt that still takes root In the void you left behind. IV. Most days I’m great, Just your average normal person, Most days are easy enough to get through, It’s the few days, The ones spread so thin throughout the year The days that remind me That eyes are truly gateways into other places It’s those days That being to engulf the great days Beneath its roots of your memory And I am reminded that after all of these years, If you can manage to keep resurrecting yourself Through the people still on this planet Than my words, will once again resurrect with you. For you.
Continue reading...
101
I craft my love From words and dreams, Forgotten, bygone memories. And of this life, Real Love knows not. I am to him a Time Forgot. He left me picking pieces, changed He lives in my mind, I lie deranged Sobbing and writing all over the floor You left too soon, Love. I need more. I resurrect you from the dead And spill my heart to the you in my head. So I wrote you But perilously; For you, in your brilliance, Unwrite me.
0
Dec 31, 2020
Dec 31, 2020 at 3:04 AM UTC
A Give and Take
Construction Destruction Death Resurrection Collection Fixation Dictation Relation Construct Destroy Death to all Recall Isn't it funny how Something can be created? Then at the change of heart Your mind has destruction fixated? You call for the heads of those Who tear apart you world When they are soon dealt with The real you is resurrected. You then collect the pieces, They are now your fixation Other are telling you how to rebuild From friends and blood relation Slowly but surely, Piece by piece You reconstruct the world That had lain in pieces Then you destroy it Because you've had enough And bring death to all To vent the life that you made rough And then you expect your friends Who you just destroyed To come at your beck and call When you pushed them in the void? Get real You brought this on yourself
0
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 5:27 AM UTC
Build & Level, Death & Life
Once my body is sprawled across the sands of an uninhabited island-- a peninsula that has never been owned but owns me-- and I have been drowned twice. When the only sensation in my body is apathy chewing a hole through my cheeks, I will save my last breath for you to take. And you could breathe it back to me if you ever find where I am
0
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 7:02 AM UTC
Resuscitate
I am not the girl I once was She rotted in my ribcage before I even Knew how to grieve her What remains is a howl that Outlived its throat I drag her like a corpse Tied to my ankle Praying she’ll twitch Praying she’ll open her eyes and Forgive me for surviving wrong I liked her better She was honey before the swarm She was soft Unscarred Still stupid enough to Believe in forever Now she’s bones in a closet I keep polishing Hoping to see her smile In the reflection But she never stood a chance And neither did I
0
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 7:39 AM UTC
Moult
You said you would love me, until the end of your days. Well I believe you died not long after that, and resurrected from stones. You no longer love me, and your memory aches in these bones. Sandoval
0
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 4:14 AM UTC
Resurrection
Just stay sad Let your feelings grow Ignite them with what kills you most And burn Burn until you cannot shout Burn until the fires out Until there's nothing left but ash Then when you're ready to rebuild And all your scars have healed Let go And never remember Put your emotions to sleep like a snowy night in December
0
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 4:14 PM UTC
Overcome