Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
We Are Stories Sep 2017
11
i thought that growing up
i would look back on all that i've seen
and see you standing right next to me-
yet
to my dismay
i am again standing in the gap-
trapped
inside.

i thought that growing up
we'd be closer than before
closer than closed doors-
yet i slam
that door shut
every day-
and i beg you
to go
away.

who am i today
who am i today
who is i  going to be
and where will that lead i?
will i be another symphony
is i just another expressed belief?
what does i believe-

oh i
what do you see and why
do you see oh i
the way you do
and why
do i oh i
still follow
you-

if i isnt me
than is me just another empty space
that i left behind
in the aftermath of
finding out who i is?
-me is just an empty lot
waiting for i to reattach to the host
-empty walls now make me i's empty ghost.

i isn't who i should be
not me
not me
not me's position to be choosing personality-
than who is the rhymer and the writer!
the pen and ink!
who are the author and who are the book!
who are they!
who are the shadows that haunt my mind!
who are the shadows of glory divine-

who are the devine
and they still make me question why
but i'm still learning tonight
and maybe tomorrow will be my last fight
with that angel underneath heaven's ladder
and i will finally get the rest i need
for it's tiring
fighting with angels
knowing that you can't win
but knowing they won't let you lose-
for i truly want to lose for once
and figure out that death isn't worth it-
and figure out that i had a greater purpose.
We Are Stories Jul 2017
if I set myself on fire
drench myself in gasoline
will it melt through my skin
and **** the cells with thoughts and schemes-

-for the longest time
I'd illuminate my words
hope for the best
and let the cauldron stir!
I hope
that
the witchcraft
crafts
a new heart's
bath
in blood and
wrath!
my dream was
to create a song
dark enough to let
my thoughts sink in!
black enough to make
my white skin gone!
thick enough to choke
my throat till it splits!
**** down the blood from the slits!
call out to death for his kiss!

If I set myself on fire!
Will that be the end!
Will I be purified!
No longer play pretend!

-i never wanted to watch the swing set
set its chains down to rest
turn my eyes to hollow forecasts
and let my past take final breaths-

you are not alone-
the shadows ever stirred
the angels on the walls
the anger all unheard!
you are not alone-
the monsters in the dark
the heavens in their tears
the callous of the heart!
you are not alone!
the teeth grind in the sleep
the bathroom groans in pain
the dripping from the sink!
you are not alone!
the times down on your knees
the rashes on your elbows
the prayers prayed for weeks!
you are not alone!
the knocked-down-black-eyed breaths
the arms now pushing up
the taking of the final steps-

you are not alone-
for though you are on  fire
drowning in the ocean
the breath will not expire
though the water should
it wont end the flames
deep inside the heart
is where the war is raged.
don't let those hands down
box until your dead!
turn not now until the grave is cracked
against the match with father death!
We Are Stories Nov 2016
we see life through eyes shoved deep in a clothes dresser
-dressed in one style, one choice, one black or white sweater
we are the oppressed or the oppressor
we either question or we answer
we either are racist or we are racist-
it doesn't matter within which color you exist
at one point or another you are the blunt of every man's expense
the traitor or the one with the knife in your back-
turn around and your friends are nowhere fast-
build up a blind eye and you missed the opportunity to chose a side
and now your an inactivist- a pacifist
someone who's breath is saved is not valid, this
life style leaves us bent between broken lips
and bad lies heard from different separatists
bent on making a society divided on who's right and who's wrong, what's the matter with this!
battle each other with harsh words and confrontational jargon fits!
spit on each other, barely walk away and shake our fists!
is there not enough wisdom for us to understand
that we are merely just imperfect man-
must we argue over who is the most persecuted, most bruised!
we-
who live in a country with the most benefits for you to choose!
we-
the ones who live in an electrical utopia and a house too!
we-
the ones who barely have to question anything, we just receive and we roost-

selfish enough to carry broken glass mirrors on our masks
and stare forever into our forever broken collapse-
if your not on a side, than you are useless to the system who wants you to **** your brothers and fellow humans-
if you have an opinion, you are a zealot who needs to be purged-
when will we see that these are both wrong.
when will we see anything but ourselves
We Are Stories Nov 2016
well we can sit inside the sun for days
growing hungry, foaming at the mouth
like the red will gloss over our lips
cooling the flames bursting from our eyelids-
stare in silence waiting for bad dreams
hoping old ghost are familiar faces to greet
like
black plagues coughed up in disease
watching our skin disintegrate into the bone and wash out to the sea-
and i could sit and wait for the fire to spread
bursting through your blood vessels again and again
until your eyes run black,
how much longer until the end
i've waited for this moment long before it even began!

-i could watch this world crash and burn before i lift a finger
i've waited so long to watch us fall apart, watch the taste linger-

if this is the start of the end then lets end
the small talk telling us to say we're old friends
because if i could i would cut you off from all this pretend
and imagine a world where there's no more to bend!
pluck!
out!
my!
eyes!
i want to forget!
the voice comes around to let my thoughts grow sound!
if there's anyway to start, then lets begin!

-i'll wait inside your closed closet doors
hoping that when i come out, you'll be nothing more-
We Are Stories Nov 2016
how can i take the sun and crumble it between my finger tips,
or master the earthquakes and pin point their movements-
swallowing the earth in blood and fire-
preventing me from falling back into the slow jaws of fate.
We Are Stories Nov 2016
when will the rocket white noise end their sound
and all that got thrown  up come crashing down
when will i get some sleep at night!
i beat my head to dull the noise just like i beat my wife-
-******* dreams
******* dreams
the sound of the nose-pain bleeds
******* dreams
******* dreams
"shut the hell up girl, I'm trying to sleep!"-
watching memories
fading elegies
grey smoke drifting from throat capturing common greens,
floating entrance fees
shaken masterpiece
master of my home mastered by the firm grip of the enemy
demonic force chain to the pentagram imprinted on my shattered knees-
chain smoking crack to the rhythm of grandma's record sheets!
gun to my temple to help the war and his buddies flee-
when will my mind empty itself of me-

to try and stop the bleeding in my vessels
we wait for the pressure
our pounding bit of pressure-
you sit there doubtful
every smile's a lie
all you are is crumbling inside-
reaching for the cabinet doors
spinning- hoping that stopping will leave you cold on the floor
all the tile is still keeping you warm
going down is a pain, but with a happy reward
oh, the drugs never have a plan to restore-

-dad why'd you have to go
why'd you have to leave me here alone;
i know you watch me here below,
what will happen if i let this page close
-gunshot, blood stained escape way
through the lead through the head space trade
open wide for eyes to see through the hole made
dead daughter on the counter with eyes wide awake-

momma calling son
"useless waist of taken up space-
not worth the cost of my thoughts on your unseen face
disgraceful to me, wish you weren't my son
wish i went to med school and didn't sell out so young
should've never listened to your daddy's song
telling me to pack my bags and cuddle up in his arms - wrong!
never should've
could've could've
maybe i would've
maybe i will
maybe i am
i am
i am more than a woman attached to a man
more than a mom attached to a hand
more than a ring wrapped, a wedding band
more than cable, dishes, pots and pans
more than a ceremony anniversary plan-
i am
i am
i'm gone"-

son go waist away somewhere where my eyes don't have to be glued
to the scene as life takes yours away from you, leaving you dead and blue-
you're already dead to me, so go die somewhere out of my view
and bury your own body, i wont waste my money on that, i refuse.


-it seems as if my heart laid heavy with messages of missing families,
missing homes
missing hopes,
Christlike lovers with smiles on picture frames leaving holes
where they were meant to never leave, never left alone
yet moms walk out on families like this is the time to take a stand for what they own
yet dads think that they could get away with abusing their kids, maybe those bruises would never show
and maybe kids wont think much of living in two houses with two separate phones
two different schools, new friends, old friends, divided in somber tones-
"just do it for the kids, honey
they deserve more than me or you know
let's do what they all do
fake a smile
fake a frame
fake a while
fake our names
pictures on Christmas will still look the same"
"and once their gone?"
"we can burst into flames"
thinking that the kids don't notice
the long fights
the late lights
the long talks
the late walks
the long drives
the late lies
the bright screens
the loud screams
the doors slam
the house stamp
the long sobs
the long jobs
the moving boxes
the missing pictures
the blood on moms dress
the couch blankets
the magazines
the hidden lingerie
the missed calls
the bottles of wine in the back seat of the mini van
the adjusted seats
the drunken steps
the fake parents-
the fake lovers-

teach them about Jesus
"make sure to teach them about Jesus, ***!"
just as long as they don't see us
"hide the masks, they might not believe us, ***!"
tell them not to lie
tell them not to curse!
What's worse!
me saying a ***** word!
or hearing you say "i hate that stupid *****" then finding blood on her shirt!
make sure that you don't miss church!
because being perfect includes calling your kids worthless and letting every moment burn!
and we burn for this
too many drinks and dad becomes an alcoholic
watching me beaten trying to know the pounds and then call it,
betting with my brother on how long till i become black
falling on the wooden floors just after he breaks my back-
my dad was a pastor-
and how many more families will i watch fall apart
before someone gets a grip that you lose more than you are-
before someone figures that it's not worth all the pain,
not worth going days without seeing your daughter's face-
will we still love our sin
or will our families get more than the scraps from last nights affair-

-when will God be our source and not our self medicated needs
when will we stop being overcome by defeat-
We Are Stories Nov 2016
put an empty hand under water
and watch it waste away, watch it squander-
let it stay and stay the same, let it ponder
and never do a single thing, never wander-
look at the sink as it drips
never drink never sip,
just stare as the the wooden floors
turn to mold and corrode under sudden force-
turn your eyes away
don't you even look
although we want to stay
we know the time that it took
to be a ghost in the day
but then at night we're a rook
i used to beg to go play
but now my life i forsook-

pinch yourself because the blood wont swell
up high enough for you to smell
that armpit sweat from being too nervous to tell
the truth sometimes, so we hide in our shell
from the growing guilt making it hard to not yell
- but swallow it down, ignore the burdens you felt-


the meadows are nonexistent in southern Florida,
when will i see more than dried up sand-
the forests have washed away into suburbia,
when will i feel green moss in my hands-
when all i know is gone
i know i don't have to beg
- you will twirl your hair like those twirling leaves-
when all i know is gone
i know i can rest my head
- i will keep you here, safe inside my memories-

-when i wake up from my dreams,
i will forget we met.
but if i remember a single thing,
there wouldn't be a second to correct-
Next page