"detatched" poems
Your actions
speak like knives
that carve away at the soul of my being.
They stab the tender flesh of my faith.
Your words force their way
through my heaving chest
From the fork of your tongue
and rip out my battered heart,
Leaving a gaping cavity
of tangle arteries
that ooze out scattered emotions
from deep within the shredded
bloodied tissue that remains.
Exposed and vulnerable
to the elements of your
ramped terror,
the wound quickly festers
from the stench of your
infectious hatred
that slithers it's way into
the detatched arteries
and consumes any thought
of compassion.
And is diseased with
progressive revenge
and retaliation
that becomes the driving force
of strength that remedies
the forgiveness
that unconditional love's
natural immunity produces
and is temporary remedy to
the heart retching incurable
depression and permanent
lifelasting pain.
That haunts me
it taunts me
again and again.
...... And so begins the plague
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 8:15 AM UTC
I try to be distant.
Detatched.
Drink a 50 cent Mountain Dew.
Dressed all in black
on a blistering day.
My back is a waterfall.
Pop two more quarters in the machine.
The mass gathering makes this funeral home
feel more like a sweat lodge.
"It's cooler in the chapel"
but that's where the body is.
I enter the mock church house,
close my eyes in passing the casket,
and sit in the back,
where everyone obstructs my view
of...
it?
him?
Eulogy delivered.
Songs sung.
Get up and take your last look.
My pores become geysers.
He's too still.
Too quiet.
Too peaceful.
Three observations
in a third of a second.
I remember his voice,
the way his palm felt on mine,
shaking hands.
Shake the preachers hand.
Remember.
Pull away.
Pop two more quarters into the machine.
Wash my hands.
Twice.
Go out to the car
to try my best to calm down.
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 10:11 AM UTC
.
**In my act of
defiance and grotesque penmanship,
I'll be the silver-eyed poet to beckon you from wonderland.
Darling,
I've written you the universe and I'll
sew the seams to your switchblade shoulders.**
*"What are these?"
"Wings."*
.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 2:04 PM UTC
*The black sun coiled around you by morning,
Gingerly tending your wounded mind
You basked in the tall shadow of two lovers;
Waltzing along the line of indecisive love
Seven has always been your favorite number,
As we embarked to raise the tiger-eyed moon
That desolate soul wrapped in your inked bones
Couldn't silence the riptide that conquered like our kiss.
You were an addiction that took five months to sober,
Feathering every "I love you" with a pitiful look to me
I guess we just headed off to war in different directions
We were spilling blood in agony for each other.*
*There are regrets surfacing in your heart
I would know,
It's in my palm, right?*
"I am unwelcome and detatched, it seems."
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 10:12 PM UTC
How come it’s sadistically silent,
when all I want to hear
is the duet
of the moon and your
howl?
I’m no wolf,
but my do we both
have something in
common.
We both are star crossed lovers,
of the moon.
I may not entice myself to the law of time,
but it never meant
I stopped listening
at night.
And when you swear
upon a deathbed you know one day,
you’ll be slumbering in---
Just how many demons will be
hungry for your ashes?
Sure we have all have our
filthy little secrets
But since when are we
taking them to our graves?
And I don’t wanna whisper (help me,)
at the stroke of midnight.
‘Cause if you struck that **** clock* 12 times,
Lord knows how many shadows
would feast--
On an empty girl at 12 a.m.
Hearts are savage creatures,
that’s why we keep them
caged in our
ribs.
(*Even if our ribcages are secretly made of
dove feathers.*)
*Keep the hounds in hell dear,
for me?*
Because if that’s all your duet has to offer,
than keep your lyrics. (But if you can sing, make me want to listen. Wolf girl.)
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
How do you describe the feeling?
It's not just an ache,
aches leave you feeling empty,
make you yearn.
It's when your body fills,
no not your body,
your heart.
& for a minute you feel calm,
you're a paradox,
you're at one with the world, the universe maybe, yet completely detatched from everything.
A spectator.
It would be as though you were looking down upon yourself,
this human,
this soul,
that you know every secret of, every detail about,
but you're unconnected.
Seperate.
Alone.
I feel this way when I look upon a view, watch the world in wonder.
Like when you see your reflection,
no matter how vague,
in glass,
looking up at you from water.
& you reach your finger out,
& you connect.
The way the lines blur between what is really you & your double.
They blur until they are no more.
Like the lines between realities.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 2:27 PM UTC
When it fades, its like a candle that ceases
to exist and so the flame was never lit..
You cherished a moment that was as
threadbare as the good reflections of us.
I look into your being and I see through
you as my heart now sees nothing within.
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 5:10 PM UTC
Fighting the sensations;
I am speechless and consumed
With nothing
As well as everything.
The drinks all taste the same.
Conversations become dulled down
To empty promises.
Skeletons of chandeliers;
Ghosts of past lovers.
Memories distorted.
The inadequate use of words
Dripping off your
slurred tongue.
I’ve been burned before,
Leaving me fearless in front of the fire.
Searching for a cure;
In the coffin of
false happiness.
Trying to balance between
Reality, and self-inflating lies
While I dream of falling,
And crashing to my demise.
Jun 1, 2010
Jun 1, 2010 at 10:40 PM UTC
I once was a Heaver, just like you
Lost in a sea of solemn blue
My boat capsized at an early age
My mind was so detatched I barely remember this stage
Slowly I found my way back to shore
But I sometimes fear I'll end up like before
The night will haunt me still, with things I've overcome
The dark reminds me of what I can still become
So you see, I've had scars where a light is shone
And I've rowed in a sea that was not my own
I have found my breath and now I give it to you
A blot of yellow in your solemn blue
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 10:34 AM UTC
Detached,
floating beyond the confines of existence.
I hear and
see and yet do not
feel.
No pain can touch me here,
no hand near enough to reach
beyond my cloudy veil.
Ecstacy,
Joy,
Sorrow,
Panic.
These states bubble across the
surface of river,
my fishbowl,
my cauldron.
I lie underneath,
The emotions slipping gently from my lips
to the surface,
a perfect finish to the puppet beyond
my reach.
High above, my head floats
whilst my *** sits cold on the bench
near the boats
Alone
yet everywhere
Who knows if I can yet
be guided home
Again.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
I want to blow myself to smithereens.
There's a tightening in my chest that accompanies the shame I feel.
I can be a good girl
I can fake a nice girl
I can detach from my own skin.
Smile. Nod your head. Agree with everything being said.
And when it hurts to be a shell of a person
Remind yourself that you've hurt him worse.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC
The tender girl had qualms with none
Detatched, there was nothing for the son
Forced to backtrack whilist rolling downhill
Flashing images remain
Of that private, idealistic mill
So I called her name
In the Nether Realm, she screamed
Yes, she is a hard one to please
Especially when she sees
One going through the motions
Rotations into false vocations
So tell me
What was your question again?
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC
im comfortable nowhere
i always want to go home but i never want to stay inside
he never fully understood what the warnings meant
he just detatched him and his soul
so he could witness his life from above
nowhere in my dreams
head on a pillow
going nowhere
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 4:22 PM UTC
her words
were rainbow birds
chirping light
and i was dazzled
inside, i find feathers
detatched and *****
blackened
without body
like
her rattled, twisted words
taken from the world
wasted
on open and unknowing skies
and i listen to the lies
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
Wet pavement and orange street lights
The sound of distant tires
Cutting a path through the moisture
Laying in the cracks of the highway
Wet and thick
Breathing in the fog
A record playing in my head
pops and cracks, jazz, singing out
Some lonely saxaphone
Buzzing
Humming
The entire world is black but orange
Sitting on a curb
Smoke another one
I fit so perfectly in this performance
Yet I've never been so detatched
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC