"attict" poems
Charlotte sat in her queen sized canopy bed in her attict bedroom, her crimson red hair hanging over her face as she scribbled in her journal. her hands trembling. her pulse racing, overwhelmed with sadness, and anxiety.
dear journal,
i feel like an ant in the ocean, being tossed every which way by multiple tides and ruthlessly ripped apart. i feel useless and hopeless and confused. nothing ever gets better, only worse. and i feel so tired and beaten down by life. i just want to give up, because i dont have any fight in me, not anymore. im too damaged. i'm 18 years old and i feel like i've had enough of life. & that it's too laight for me. i dont want to live this life anymore .
charlottes p.o.v
i walk down the stairs and into the kitchen to get a glass of water. only to walk in on my mother and father watching the 10 oclock news, i see the apartment building on fire and all of the people standing around it hugging talking and crying. and then i a reporter comes on. "sophia ryan, 87 year old resident passed away in this fire. not only did the residents of this apartment building lose all of there belongings but a closs friend as well." a picture of the old woman is now on the screen. it's her. my eyes widen and my hands begin to shake. i drop the glass that i was holding and it shatters all over the kitchen floor. my father jumps and looks back at me with fear and confusion in his eyes.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
look at what you bring me to do
to myself
I'm running but it's sinking me
into a deep abyss
where there are lessons to be learned
spirit to confess, thoughts to degress
It's all in your head
its what you do
so quiet this enormas power in the room
I feel it and it pulls my eyes on you
what do you see in those dark eyes
with a cunning to know
wisdoms
beyond speak
There is a cave of wonders
rivers of mercury, diamond tombstones
subdued by the depth of this sea
and it's keyhole is entracning me!
I'm sinking sinking sinking
with an invisible third eye and an attict you gaurd with watchful eyes
I'm staring up into this antique
when I look up into you
and it's watching me
asking what I'd do
Your silence is maddening loud
it brings me in, without steps
I am pulled into your air
I am staring into this deep brown pair
even
In my bed
I feel your energy enwrapping my body before you do
and Hook line and sinking
I am being ****** into you
and youre lost in my dealings
because I need to feel into you
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 3:51 AM UTC
My life is out of my hands, my fate is it woven, these paths i choose to take are they but truly chosen.
my heart is beating still, but for now my love stays hidden.
safely here i meditate, on past pictures so beautifully vivid.
a soul we all are born with, or at least is what most choose to assume.
but perhaps a spirit is something else entirely, bodies burned in corpseless tombs.
destiny is a touchy subject, where is truth among so many varied interpretations
this image we have of fate walks in hand with beauty in the eyes of differing relations.
oh, that what it is, to be held in the heart, with someones or somethings favor.
these are the makings of merry moments, merit these memories as ones to savor.
procastination is the thief of time, stealing away our oppurtunities and chances.
idle hands sit idly by, we must be proactive in our advances.
to want is to welcome in hunger, as is to desire the cousin of greed.
i ride through the storms of this life, with a pen that silently bleeds.
from my soul, the strength does come from, spirit and body both do manifest it.
while the value of ones outcome is solely dependant on effort invested.
these twenty four hours can seem so long, until it is time that is finally needed.
recently, for some reason, time is all that i have been seeing
wading through these days, from sun up until rise again, like this pendulum swing process is my only friend
that ive known lately.
but its all this time tallyed up and the bones in the back of my attict that make me.
digging through old dirt see, as i try to lay to rest these, bodies in my closet.
i have the tendency to stay reserved, im always humble but know that i shall never back down.
i think its about due time, from floating by on cloud nine, i need to come on back down,
im trying to see these size nines planted firmly on the ground again
to be able to think clearly i had to reclaim my clarity of mind,
here's a penny for your thoughts, watch me throwing down these dimes.
throw away the nickels to my dreams.
ive already done lived that life, i have already seen everything.
there is to offer, in these dime store disasters.
now as a Man i want answers,
as a Scholar seek knowledge.
as a Gentleman ill walk at the time i choose to frolic
ill never need another person here to tell me that approve it.
my life has been left to the light, this is no longer in my hands,
my faith and lifestyles prove it...
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
"moving on & moving in"
Charlotte sighed as she looked around her bedroom in the attict. there had been nothing left for her in the small town anymore. nothing but haunting memories, dark and blurry. reminders of her losses. & all of the things that could have been, should have been, and now never would be. memories that she used to treasure, now almost non-existant. & she hadn't been sure if it had been from all of the partying, or if it had been her minds way of trying to protect her from them. charlotte sealed up another box with tape which read "posters". so far charlotte had packed 8 boxes, 6 of which read posters aswell. all four walls had been covered with them, posters of beautiful places, song lyrics, and all of the rockstars that she adored. shaun morgan, kurt cobain, aaron lewis. joey ramone, alice cooper. she had basically spent all of her time there since Charlies death. listening to music, getting lost in the words of her favorite artists and authors. or poems and stories that she would write herself. when charlie died, charlotte checked out. almost as if she had died right along with him.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC