#weights
There are so many memories here I’m
choking
on the ground-up rubble of so many broken promises and the stench of
the few still rotting away in the corner;
I wish I was ancient, I wish I was
made of stone
so that I would break instead of bleeding
my chest crumble into a million tiny pieces instead of
dragging breaths through my lungs that make me feel like I’m drowning,
one minute fine, the next
full of black water and the remainder of what
could have been, or maybe things that never should have been.
I wish I could fly, I wish I was
paper-thin
instead of tied down by these weights around my ankles that
don't have enough substance to hold me in one place,
but just enough to
chafe my skin, just enough
to make everything heavy.
I wish I was perfect, I wish I was
carved into the hills somewhere, as if my image might
live forever in someone’s artistry, rather than
changing constantly
rather than
reminding me of all the
shells of people I’ve forgotten, people
I’m not anymore.
There are so many memories here, it’s
suffocating
but maybe I’ll install a high quality filter that
catches all the debris for me,
maybe I’ll
grow my skin so calloused I don’t bleed anymore,
maybe I’ll
cut the weights off my ankles, or
cut my legs along with them
just so I’m light enough to drift away,
drift away and never come back
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 12:18 AM UTC
The invisible weights cast their impression on my ankles.
I walk in breathless silence.
I can no longer extend my hand to the fingertips once there, now consumed by creeping vines.
I turn back to see the clearing empty, your shadow is gone.
The weights become lighter in time.
Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 1:19 AM UTC
Strength is measured by numbers
Numbers give us goals
Goals we can strive to reach
The higher the number
The stronger we're perceived
Only physical strength uses numbers
Mental strength
Emotional strength
Neither can be measured
With a unit
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 8:39 PM UTC
I am drowning
Falling further down
The bubbles cloud my view
This is the end
But I somehow always knew
I fight the weights pulling me down
All i have to do is let go
But it's harder than you know
I've lived with them for years
They brought so many tears
and yet I still have them
The light is becoming dim
Last chance
I fight to let them go
Free at last
I let them fall
The weights drown along with my past
I resurface
I breath
I am finally living at last
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 11:47 AM UTC
The essence of striving
Breaking my will till I feel like I'm dieing
**** mediocre I'm yelling and writhing
Breaking platues 'cause I live to keep climbing
What is this in me that lives for the pain
People who don't do this they call me insane
But I'm not here for glory or to make a name
I'm here to prove to me that my will makes me change
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 5:40 PM UTC
The path to heav’n is not one aptly ta’en
Because for things and worldly joys we seek;
If our eyes and senses be mistaken,
The answers to our questions be oblique.
We’re thrown about in sinful *** a-boil,
Whose flame permits the crimes and lies reveal;
The heat incites a panic and turmoil
A timely death comes post our flesh congeal.
Throughout our lives we fail to rise above
The harrowing things that we call our own,
Because they’re products of what we think of,
Restraints that hold us down till we’re alone.
But from your wrists the weight of Earth be raised
Remembering that you cannot be fazed.
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
I suppose this lump of clay is just fine the way it is.
Well, honestly, who am I to try to change it?
I know full well the labor that went into making it
The workforce that mined out the sediments from the soil
The minds that designed that perfect consistency
The psychologists and graphic designers that boggled the package to life
The mouths their incomes feed.
The leftover money spent on beer and records to listen to with friends
Yes, that would be preposterous of me to sully their memory by shifting even a single atom.
I’ll place this lump next to the other lumps limping, exhausted on that dusty shelf.
Their lumpy memories will lump onto me. and I’ll take their non-utilized weight with me wherever I travel.
They are precious. More so than diamonds.
**** it, my niece wants dragons.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
How many things are really whole.
How much is full?
How much is too much or too little,
Whats the standard measure of these things
If I am to be me and you are to be you, why have a standard to go by.
Let me be me and you be you no one to be compared to
Judge how you see fit, how full it is to you does not matter to me.
What I see as overflowing you see not even half.
Standard will vary from me to you and you to me
From her to him and back again
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC