"cornor" poems
Empty...
that's how I feel.
Can you please show me
that this world is real?
Madness...
Rules in my head
and it's the shadow,
which follows me to bed.
Sorrow...
lures in the cornor.
Caused by the loss
of my mother.
Happy...
is an unknown word to me
it's something
that I never feel.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 5:16 AM UTC
Awake with the dead.
Hair slowly thinning.
Sleep is for the weak.
Teeth so fragile.
Around men and women that have lost their ways. Grinding their teeth. Been ups for days.
Eyes sinking in. As dark as unspoken words.
The kid in the cornor twitching his head.
Oh so forgetful.
We'll sleep when we're dead.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
Quiet nights in my bed and family dinners all drive me deeper into myself
I spend my the majority of my time alone lost in Facebook memoirs and tributes to friends that never lasted through the storm
I am not sick in my heart I am trying to be well again
Trying to meet your gaze from across the room
To be able to accept your half assed companionship like any other functioning human who can summon up a smile to cover up the sparking of their discontent
But I can't hide it from you
And you know it as I watch you from across the room
That I am unwell with no intention of wishing you well
I gave that up last week
And this poem wasn't supposed to be about you but you are as much apart of me as the pen in my hand
A medium of my discontent
The serpent in my head
This wasn't meant to offend just meant to voice what I never said to you on that hill back in the depth of spring
And I can see it now
I can watch myself drunk breaking the glass against the wall on your wedding day
Cursing your name on the stage
It's a rocky road I'm on but lately I've been feeling my age
And 18 isn't kind
And even though we once breathed in tandem I'm not ashamed to tell you that I want everything you've got
Just to burn it before your eyes
Just to make up for all the white lies we've both said in common pleasantries
It isn't you it's me
Echos through the back of my mind
I am not fine
And you know it
The disaster in the cornor of the room aiming slowly gunning for you
What a joy it is to be the town drunk on your graduation day
You can leave this town but you're still bound to your age
And it isn't pretty but I've begun to embrace the abomination that I am
The screaming mess of crooked teeth no one can **** it up like I can
I don't need you
Except to write about when the quiet nights and family dinners threaten to strangle me
I am through with quiet complacency
Through with the regret breeding in me
In this there is no peace
In this I exist inside of me
Trapped within my skin
At least I'll never let you in.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 7:31 PM UTC
The blue whale sat in a cornor of the ocean
As she had seen centuries change
Everyone came...evolved....and then withered away
But she was still there...
Her daughters were bigger than her
She couldn't believe her tiny whalies
had become responsible mother whales...just like her.
Did her mother feel the same way?
As she saw centuries change...as she saw her grow
As she saw her playing and singing songs across the ocean.
Did she feel the same?
The blue whale missed her mother
As I heard her singing supermarket flowers
sitting in my boat...counting stars.
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 2:18 AM UTC