Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Mar 2019 Psychosa
Gerry James
I just sit and gaze,
And watch my walls burn in a blaze,
As I become captive to her eyes,
I see my darkest dreams

But I take a glance
In thought that I have a fleeting chance
Of escaping from her,
Not yet, it seems.

I fall to my knees
And I utter my pleas,
But she just smiles,
In the darkness, her smile gleams.

My demons scream and yell,
But it's no use,
Coz I’m under her spell.
This is crazy man what's going on? I ain't ever felt this way before
Psychosa Mar 2019
I never knew
you thought of
me
as beautiful.

Til the night you played me
your scratched record.

It skipped
it was filled with d is sona nce
It had no consistency
but its consistency of cacophonies.

Others would have
thrown the record away,
unable to bear its e
rra
tic ways.
Others would have said it's Broken.
Unfixable.
A disaster.
Too much.

;

But you ,
you weren't like the others.
You did not want to throw away the scratched record;
you did not even want to take the scratched record to a repair shop,
for you ,
you somehow seemed to find
a harmony in the scratched record.

So you closed your eyes to the endless loop of the scratched record
and said It was the most beautiful song you've ever heard

Because to you,
The most beautiful
are the most broken.
  Dec 2018 Psychosa
mikarae
sing me your inspiration,
so that words may blossom
through the rings of the tree
in my paper.

gift me your passions,
so that pathways may carve
through inked rivers
and graphite daydreams.

paint me your love,
so that I may palette
your rainbow
and color my canvas

with my favorite colors of you.

the soft pink
of the inside of your lips,
and the offset grey
haloed through your eyelashes.

tiger lily freckles framed
by sweet peach
and wallflower blushes.

rainfall wrists
and dutch cocoa silk.

all my canvas needs
are the colors of you.
acrylic affirmations and watercolor whispers
  Dec 2018 Psychosa
Jenny
the electricity runs through our veins
and past the street signs we rumble by
in the car you stole, we go fifty above the speed limit,
the roof of the car is the noir sky above
and the midnight rain pelts our upturned faces
the dancing drops of water drip onto our smiling lips
the sound of the sky collapsing
echoes the flashes that streak the sky,
the flickering light casts paved roads with a brief brightness
(as if god were wearing light up sketchers)
the lacy brallette that wears me
gives me the bravery to stand up in the speeding car
the velvet pants that ripple with the wind
drink up the nighttime rain
and the rare headlights race past us,
heading into homes and hearts
the mellow playlist that connects the aux cord to our ears blasts
so loud, we can no longer hear our insecurity
the mascara that once clung to my eyelashes
now streams down my face.
on a two way street,
we drive down the middle
unafraid in the face of direct dangers
so unaware of the towering empty skyscrapers
and instead highly exhilarated
from the street signs we drive by
too fast to read the blocky lettering
the road signs glint, smiling as we wave and reach towards them
the cigarettes you smoked are thrown through the open window,
still smothering slightly.
i can still taste the smoke on your lips
and your hand tucks my hair behind my ear
and as the wind objects and inhales
unreal in the hazy a.m. car trip
the tunnel rushes towards us,
and we both hold our breaths,
as if breathing would contaminate us.
the lights that glint, cast a yellow-white glow
and for once, i see you for who you are
a boy too buzzed to feel
a kid who only felt "sort of"
a person who couldn't heal
and a lover who could never give love
about a boy who was my living teenage dream // nothing scarier than finding a broken loveless boy who makes you the same
Dry
.
It
is
true,
you are
totally right.
I'm as dry as
a desert, I'm a dead
empty land. I used to be
a  jungle  when  the  clouds
where by my side, and now that
they are gone, my trees, my dreams
they dried and died. Because of this,
nothing grows inside of me, there is
only silence and despair. I can't feel
what  I  write,  I  barely  feel alive
I want to feel human again
Oh god, I really miss
the rain
Es frustrante tener  las palabras pero no el tiempo y luego tener el tiempo y no recordar las palabras
Next page