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Brumous May 2023
Fret not for being the submerged stone below.
You may hit rock bottom, and there may be nowhere else to go.
The surrounding water will harbor you from the noise.

All that matters is that you do not decide that you are bound to be there forever.
Sending myself a poem because I know I have an unhealthy habit of punishing myself whenever something goes wrong.
  Apr 2023 Brumous
We chased a feeling
not a reality

We both wanted someone
So desperately
that we found each other

Even though no part of

Our pieces didn’t fit together
so we pressed and jammed them
until they were stuck
and stayed that way
we broke

-red flags
Brumous Apr 2023
Echoes of that lying indulgence
for the ideal world left out in the open;
calls to you.

And due to the loneliest somber room
you've kept yourself as a prisoner,
all you do is try and grip the walls

Forever looking into the lens
with a filter of that serene land in your head,
a dream that you continue...
to live through.
Too thin
Too fat
Too caring
Too much hate
Too small
Too tall
Too bright
Too dull
Too smart
Too dumb
Too stupid
Too young
Too new
Too old
Too meak
Too strong

All lies I tell myself everyday
But I know their lies
Then how do I stop a cycle of self hate?
Brumous Nov 2022
I want to be the
apple of your eye
the way you are to mine.
Is your smile coated with honey?
Brumous Nov 2022
I criticize myself
under a microscope
devoid of all hope,
as I continue to display
the raging ocean
on a dusty shelf,
left all but forgotten.

******* by the century-old life
which I created, that was never there.
I breathe in the depravity and loss.
And of you—the one that I lost.

I continue to fall under
the trance of repetition;
in addition to the grief
that crowds my vision

I have discarded
the golden arrow,
pointing to the right path,
walking 'round in circles,
how does each breath cost?

I am afraid that
I have grown to love the war,
the fear, the woe, and the anxiety of something
that looks so close but is far.

Now, every stroke of the painting
of the memories that I create,
engraved in the mind of the lonesome author
who does nothing—but over-analyze it.
I have grown a few more sets of eyes,
it looks down on me,
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