"doorways" poems
ground zero
i become aware of boundaries
i am a dog chasing cars
i sing your voicemail to sleep
there are no surgeon general warnings
to tell me that
*the objects in the mirror
are more depressed than they appear*
so how do i tell you
that there are parts of my life
that move slower
without you in them?
or that i look for you every day
in emails & unanswered calls
in the sunrises
i didn't choose to be awake to watch
that i sometimes still stare at doorways hoping you would walk through them
stage 1 you tell your new lover you've got a splinter and they pull the sound of your body falling asleep on mine out of your fingertip
stage 2 your new lover says something at dinner that makes you choke so they call 911 & the paramedics do the hymleich not knowing you would ***** our promises all over the the restaurant
stage 3 your new lover surprises you by cleaning the house & washes the shirt you kept next to the bed, not knowing it was the last thing you had that smelled like me
after
people always ask
what was loving her like?
after a really long silence
i just say
"it must be nice"
but i never say
it's watching paint dry
i never say
it's a window seat in hell
i don't tell anyone
about the dreams
where i am reading you
bedtime stories
each one is a different way you die
& every time i can never save you
dreams where what i think
are angels in my bedroom
are just homeless versions
of myself you never loved
i have dreams
where i pay someone to shoot me
just to see if you would cry
just to see
if you would cradle my body
i don't tell people
that loving you is like
playing piano
for someone who can't hear
that it's hitting repeat
on my favorite song
& forgetting the words
every time it starts over
that it's finding out
there's no milk after you already
poured yourself a bowl of cereal
it's getting locked in the dark
& being told to
look on the bright side
that loving you is like
being reminded of what it felt like
the first time
you accidentally let go
of a balloon as a child
it's drowning without the water
it's the feeling you get
when you start to dance
& the song ends
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
*Blue clouds gaze the wrapped sun
frozen kisses in my blood
travelling a thousand miles
to meet up with you.
There is none else walking
down this path where memories
wake up and dance
inside my armored heart.
I peeled off each kisses embrace
out of my parched lips.
I shook off the tree,
where your scent had blossomed.*
***Every step down this scarcely trodden path saw...
Each peel fall with helpless, damsel-like grace.
Brown leaves shone amber touched by fingers of the sun
Invasion of warmth through my greyed bony carapace.
Gentle tremors reverberate within with subtle anguish.
Sweet scented portal that took me back,
To the illusion of time where we once were...
In drunken stupor...laying under a star strewn canvas of black.
Senses that spoke of a great fantastical tale.
You are still here... In this cloying void with no one around...
Only that scent...your scent tugging on my core
Invisible tendrils berthing my feet back on ground.***
*Alone and wanting don't want to be anymore.
I want to feast my lungs on your skin once more.
I want to vibrate under your touch again,
In anguished anticipation and sweet pain.
I hurl your name to the echoing wind,
Blowing ferociously over the closed passage.
Only to find that I'm but elongating
the distance between our fading wishful stars.*
***Fading far only to find that I'm lost yet again,
Still harvesting a basket full of ripened hope.
Traversing planes with warped, slanted doorways,
Frantically seeking purchase on knobs with fevered gropes.
Heavy layered breaths inhaled too shallow...
Tracing missteps to decipher what it all meant.
When all is moot...weary, weathered and futile,
Forever I'll be bathing in the familiarity of your soothing, nectarous scent...***
Dajena M
ryn
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
It’s all you’ve ever seen
in a midnight’s dream
the zero sum games
and exorcised demons
asinine plunges
on tunkwa brides
phantom fingers cradling
the ragged red dress
shadow hands
clasp at the floodgates
lava fields boil
through scorched amber veins
needles pierce
the look out
where flames dance wildly
over boneyard grounds
deep red pedestals
behind bleeding walls
empty halls and doorways
throughout the sinful nest
bulging eyes and blood rush
in a dark crimson sky
a funeral, before I die
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 2:14 PM UTC
Endless stains of blood
On white t-shirts
On nights that scatter blue trees over black earth
Alight by shooting stars
The mother tells her child
Unwilling to unlock the truth
The truth those stars
Don't grant your wishes
They grab them
With scarred scratching hands.
Alight,
The damp stitches in the soil
Cemetery symmetrical to hospital
Those shooting stars circling
Like a vulture
Speeds towards dead carcasses
Still, the murdering star will not cease
To break bones
That have already broken
To take lives
That have already been taken
To burn
What is already charred
Today
smells like burnt muddied skin
feels like gnawing on your own fingers for feast
sounds like tired, howling machines
spurring and sputtering, never-ending their onwards trek
Swallowing distances and with it, nameless faces
countless places
Today the earthquakes of death
Don't make the land shake anymore
For it has learned to cope
With the desolate cemeteries filled with mute bones
Today burns like gasoline
Looks like intestines decorating destroyed doorways
Today it rains curdled crimson
Tell me shooting star
If the child liked jam on his toast
Did he snore?
Did he like math? Or english?
Shooting star doesn't know and neither the bombs.
As bodies fall from trees
like rotten plums.
The world was born in blood
And has not ceased to suckle its wounds
Endless blood thirst, Endless war
But not endless skin to bleed.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 2:41 AM UTC
We lay together in darkness as your hand trails down and rests between my thighs.
Your light caresses send me shivering into a world not entirely my own.
Your fingers dance in me, sliding through puddles, finding hidden doorways I'd thought long gone.
I brace your wrist, fingers encircle.
Don't stop. Never stop.
Aug 9, 2022
Aug 9, 2022 at 9:33 PM UTC
he got drunk and went to sleep
in his bed
and the fire started
and he layed in there
burning
until a friend in the next room
smelled it
and ran in
and tried to pull him out of the fire
by his arms
and the skin rolled right off the arms
and he had to grab again
deeper
near the bone,
and he got him out and up
and the guy started screaming
and running blind,
he hit some walls
finally made 2 doorways
and with half a dozen men trying
to hold him
he broke free
and ran into the yard
screaming
still running
he ran right into some barbed wire
and tangled in the barbed wire
screaming
and they had to go up
and get him loose
from the wire
he lived for 3 nights and 3
days
drinking and smoking
are bad for the
health.
9.2k
My mom
Tells me I'm a gift.
She says love
Is what keeps the atoms
In you and I
Is the moment
She caught my
Father's eye
Is the day
My grandfather died
With a candy kiss on his cheek
She had never tasted something so sweet.
When we were little
We played kickball,
The ground is lava
And hide-and-go-seek.
As I grew I knew most days,
It was harder to find myself;
Let alone somebody else.
And I have been around
Enough center city playgrounds
To see the rich
Pump every bit of spare change
In their veins fighting
A cancer that they
Never learned to put in their past.
To see the poor
Wage wars with themselves
Trying to pick up
Way too much,
Way too fast;
Nobody really knows how to make love last.
So put your prism your heart
Beneath the moonlight.
Refract the wavelengths
Of your wonders
Into ROYGB-eautiful like the sea,
It took a lot of jellyfish to let
people see through me.
And even more mirrors
To find a place I was comfortable
Praying in.
Fraying in doorways
Where I learned hope,
Is looking both ways
On a one way street
Cause it can be so easy to thank God
While you still have bread to eat.
I have never prayed
So hard for a healthy meal
Than the days I remember
The heart is a muscle;
And sometimes the only
Thing we need
Is to "work it out."
And I know that some days,
My doubt hangs my
Smile like Jesus Christ
I never quite learned
How to bleed right.
But if there's one thing
I found from cleaning
The crosses out of the
Empty hallway of my character
Is that you haven't experienced loss
Until you've held two outstretched arms
For years waiting for your innocence to come back.
Nothing, weighs more than the guilt of your past
And nothing throws punches
Faster than the ghost of who you used to be.
And I know it's hard
To stop looking for yourself
Under every bed you
Left nightmares in
And I know it's hard
To be comfortable
In your own skin
But sometimes bars
Aren’t the only thing
That builds a cage
And sometimes
The only way to live
With yourself
Is to stop digging
Your own grave.
You can spend years
Listening to morticians
And never get grounded.
Surrounded by the
Square roots we all share,
By the same air,
We've all got to learn to let go.
To learn that
Holding your breath
Has never been how
Living things
Learn to
Grow
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
I pretend that your poems and
my poems go
slumming in disguise;
carrying on in dark doorways
of riverfront bars—
tipsy, telling secrets,
spilling out into the sweet-smelling
night,
libertines
more in love
than they were before.
Dec 15, 2010
Dec 15, 2010 at 6:16 PM UTC
Her arms semaphore fat triangles,
Pudgy HANDS bunched on layered hips
Where bones idle under years of fatback
And lima beans.
Her jowls shiver in accusation
Of crimes cliched by Repetition.
Her children, strangers
To childhood's TOYS, play
Best the games of darkened doorways,
Rooftop tag, and know the slick feel of
Other people's property.
Too fat to *****
Too mad to work,
Searches her dreams for the
Lucky sign and walks bare-handed
Into a den of bereaucrats for her portion.
'They don't give me welfare.
I take it.'
6.5k
I wrote a poem on a bus
but to hear it you must
climb to the top
of the bouncing metal stairs.
Slither snake-like
past the rail
and sit
on the rainbow nylon bench.
I'll be there
at the top of the bus,
reciting my rhyme,
written as we ride along,
past shops and houses
with musty nets
and peeling paint
on dingy doors.
There's the old woman who
lives in a house no bigger than a shoe box
who had so many children she didn't know what to do!
But they've all grown and flown now and she's all alone
with no-one to talk to but herself.
Look at that kid: grimy smile and mischievous eyes,
skateboard-scuffed knees,
darting out from the roadside.
Screech!
As we stop and angry words.
The kid glances back and tosses a vee
leaving just his smile behind.
The bus lurches on
at a snail's pace and stops at a stop
for a giggle-girl-gang
to chatter up the stairs
with a clatter of feet and voices:
weekends and boyfriends,
music and laughter.
The bus trundles and sways
past shops all shuttered,
old folks gathered by doorways
talking about people
dead and forgotten ...
except by them.
Into the town now:
a river of road-rage
as our bus ambles onward
toward car-parks and markets
and rat-racing shoppers
And stops by a brown pigeon-stained temple
of public philanthropy,
a gift from a long-dead civic leader
and now proud home
to dogeared tomes of PC persuasion.
Our bus, like some Trojan horse,
disgorges its riders
who spatter and scatter
like rays of dawn light
to shop till they drop.
So, just me and you seated
atop the steel stairway
and you say to me sharply,
“So where's your poem then?”
I look at you strangely:
“It's happened around you,” I tell you quite curtly.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 11:35 AM UTC
in dreams people end up in
places, shrink down to sizes
aren't faces but bodies, aren't
lips, just statues, no legs, thick
torsos, you settle for old faces
call them out from behind doorways
make love to them in hallways
but they disintegrate beneath
your hands and you spend
the time waking up trying
to fall back, the lights
go off in your dream and the
people there fall asleep, you
probably saw satan once
and said he didn't belong
there, your prayers weren't
audible but drowned out his
voice, you said no, you aren't
allowed to be there, this is sullied
ground, this is hallowed ground
this is
sacred ground
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC
They say that the cities
Are paved with gold
That this is the land
Where dreams are made true
I'll tell you its where they are sold
Only the ruthless can afford
To rise to the top
The cities are nothing but cold
Homeless in doorways
And beggars on corners
A meagre minimum wage income
A damp house to welcome
Indirect subtle insults
Discrimination and accusation
Faulted into submission
One size fits all
Well it better fit you
Or you're just another number
Database, forms and paperwork
Lost in the system
Nine to five
Or the underworld shift
Borrow from Peter to give to Paul
Man made traps
Crime is always at an all time high
Theft, **** fraud, ******
Delinquency
Occurring frequently
I read the news
And it starts my day off miserably
Concrete jungle
Where have you gone simple things
If you have a minute
Tell me about the other side
The place I want to go
Acres of playground fun
I want to hear about the trees
The earth beneath your feet
Do you sit by the river
And feel complete
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 5:46 PM UTC
We are just ghosts
Aimlessly passing the time,
Forgotten places
Left behind,
Boarded up doorways
Stained by decay,
Restlessly looming
In the deepening gray,
Disappearing beneath
The undergrowth
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
Her shoulder rose like the moon
above the black velvet of bolero jacket
She took his arm, his eyes--
An apogee
She took the room
in reverence
So slowly
shed the mountains
shed the light
hand to touch their wonder
Gazing after
her noiseless ascent
which never happened
while they watched....
Pearls—
roll against warmth
luxuriating offspring
cool encircling
contents iridesce
their energies’ warning:
Nothing quite that simple
Nothing quite that still
Nothing like the opulence
on the Proud Eve of catastrophe
Pearls—
caught in the lining
of what never happens the first time....
She heard them before she saw them
rip their orbits!
fission her universe!
in the mezzanine of the symphony hall
Pin ball in the Fun House
Bingo bounce
off—
the hardwoods of space....
Universal Theory of Scatter?
Even now I can still hear the clatter
of their round smooth souls
in the doorways of distant relatives
How could I know?
You would condemn me
to find them all?
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 8:31 PM UTC
You pull me through doorways
with cherry red charm.
You fill me with whiskey
and hang on my arm.
We waltz through the wreckage,
the crown and her guest.
Your hem lined in ashes,
the last of what’s left.
The clerk asks for blood.
The stone has run dry.
We promise, tomorrow
and feed him with wine.
The clouds now move faster,
with voice of hard wind.
It speaks to you only
as thunder moves in.
You twist here beside me
and curl like a vine,
your teeth in my shoulder,
reliving some crime.
You hold me so tightly
and whisper your vows.
Your secrets stay hidden.
Your tears are so loud.
Jun 8, 2023
Jun 8, 2023 at 12:43 AM UTC
Sometimes
I feel a well
dug deep
into my heart
I try to stop it
but it quickly
becomes ocean
and overflows
into great tsunami
rises over all the levees
rushes past dams
breaks down tall
city structures,
edifices crumbling
in its path
all the squid and octopi
skitting forth
in wild pulses,
tentacles entangled
in doorways and rooves
slipping through narrow
window-openings
as they pour ink
in clouds,
shifting shapes
in cephalopod excitement
while blue whales
and humpbacks
breach over bridges,
phosphorescent jellies
light up
the dark streets of
my arteries
electric eels illuminate
the alleyways of
desolation's thick syrup
and I cannot stop it even
if I wanted to,
these darkened,
swirling waves
I am both floating and flying
like a jumping manta ray
curling around the ferries
bobbing in seahorse iridescence
weaving between buses
as if they were corals
And when the storm subsides,
colorful rockpools form,
rich in diversity
It is there,
in between the
multicolored ***** and
succulent shellfish,
in a mermaid's
voluptuous smile
and turquoise eye
that I see you,
so crystal clear
I could reach out
and bring you to me,
holding you tight
until the
gentle break
of
morning
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 5:31 PM UTC
People of peace walk gently
People of strength never be stilled
Abundance awaits those with courage
RW Dennen-
Stay out of Iraq the spirits
pleaded...
Eyes wide opened, boots and shoes lined up in order
in almost perfect straight lines in Philadelphia July 2005
Symbolic death shoes of civilians out of synchronization
in a war of soldiers
Under a small tree meticulously placed
we're children's shoes in a perfect solid circle
I read o months of age on tags
I read 8 years old on tags
I read 12 years old on tags
And on and on the children's lists grew,
as wisdom must have waned
and common decency
was once cherished
These shoes and boots sadly became
the dimishment of human beings,
horizontal and vertical rectangular
snapshots of once smiling faces
all in the name of war, they vanished all too soon
And I saw running tears and tears being held back
and I felt lumpy throat feelings in unison
with the rest but in cemetery silence
Touching deep feelings so overwhelming
is to touch a false bent flower and flowers
and pictures of deceased soldiers and civilians
and letters once presented at doorways
throughout America
America cried its sadness and disbelief,
the vanished breathers of life giving air,
Our sons, our daughters,
Our mothers, our fathers,
Our sisters, our brothers,
Our relatives,
Our close friends,
All perished, like a vampire that ***** away the life blood of
the once innocent
I noticed mostly tourists coming in droves from Market Street
towards us volunteers who were located adjacent to the
visitor's center side entrance as silence like before still prevailed
And like before the atmosphere prevailed even stronger
as these boots and shoes became tombstones
And tender hearts became tombstones
broken into small pieces
Passions never changed into loud speech
And the green turf
rolled down towards the sidewalk
like a green carpet holding all those boots and shoes
like a quilt interwoven with boot and civilian
shoe memories about days that should never
happen again...
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 8:34 AM UTC
People who are afraid of themselves
Multiply themselves into families
And so divide themselves
And so become less afraid.
People who might have to go out
Into clanging strangers' laughter,
Crowd under roofs, make compacts
To no more than smile at each other.
People who might meet their own faces
Or surprise their own voices in doorways
Build themselves rooms without mirrors
And live between walls without echoes.
People who might meet other faces
And unknown voices round corners
Build themselves rooms all mirrors
And live between walls all echoes.
People who are afraid to go naked
Clothe themselves in families, houses,
But are still afraid of death
Because death one day will undress them.
3.2k
.
So you snuggle in to your bed
as you hear mid-winter calling.
The cold north wind is blowing
as the last of Autumns leaves are falling.
Did you ever stop to think
as you pull up your blankets tight?
That out in the doorways of the city
desperate figures shiver in the night.
Crowding around the soup van
blue hands grasping for the heat.
Hallowed eyes and frightened expressions
as the rain turns to stinging sleet.
The concrete pavements are hard and cold
the bridges provide scant protection.
The hot food and volunteers words
stir memories into recollection.
Once they were people of society
with homes and jobs and cars and love.
Now they fight behind the charity shops
for clothes and coats and hats and gloves.
So as you snuggle deep in your bed
and your fire starts to burn low.
Remember the people of the streets
as the sleet begins to turn to snow.
Pagan Paul (Dec 2008) ©2016
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 4:38 PM UTC
Passing through huddled and ugly walls
By doorways where women
Looked from their hunger-deep eyes,
Haunted with shadows of hunger-hands,
Out from the huddled and ugly walls,
I came sudden, at the city's edge,
On a blue burst of lake,
Long lake waves breaking under the sun
On a spray-flung curve of shore;
And a fluttering storm of gulls,
Masses of great gray wings
And flying white bellies
Veering and wheeling free in the open
2.9k
I am the fire that holds the glow
of a hidden flame that captures
all that fall within.
As all my fire flowers around me
bellowed by every heartbeat.
As many invisible doorways break
open and all is awakened in air of ruby
reds and orange flame, as they
burst and bloom.
I am the fire that swallows all fire so
shout at me more little drill sergeant
for you light my fire.
For I will explode all over your anger
and blow you out like a little candle.
As I am a colossal fiery breeze as turbulent
winds encircle like a forest fire I engulf.
My coat shines and glows with orange
embers fanned by a million life times
of survival.
The power of my radiating heat melts
bones like ice in boiling water or the
hot sun against margarine.
Dare you look into my stare take a dip
a little swim and I will reignite your
flame.
I am the WILD Tiger never in caged by
any shouldst or ought to for I am a free
and my path always open for me to seek
fuel for my flame.
As my fire is never suffocated by conditions
or rule as I possess all the space around me.
Like oxygen I **** it all in while exploding into
higher spaces much greater places.
I feel the taste of LOVE and HATE as they are
both painted upon my tongue and feed my
appetite.
Like two sticks Love and Hate I rub them both
together please give me more smoke and fire.
You rub your soft injustice against my hard wood
I will bring you storm clouds and flames.
As I fight for right as naturally as gravity is
pulling us to earth.
I will transform any situation never stopping
to ask if I can as I throw myself at anything.
I wash souls of petty despair as they bath
within my glare.
Come close to me and I will hold you tenderly
in the nets of my sight like hammocks
in my eyes.
Let me lick and sooth your many wounds
as we together we softly purr.
Purring sweetly together like a V8 engine I can
slowly restore all your strength and power.
I pounce and spring of solid rock that feels
so soft and elastic like rubber.
A thousand coordinated sparks ****** themselves
forward as they blaze a trail to fast for the brain.
You will be liberated when you find my fire
rocket blades ignited we will dance and play
through time.
So much can be gained when running with the
Tiger, caressing air with a watery velvet.
As you slip through a jungle with a silky strawberry
orange flame, how we Love the beautiful
Tiger's Flame
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 4:23 PM UTC
we were driving home
taking side roads in a roundabout way.
and you spotted something on the side of the road.
bloodied, broken and (i assumed to be) dead.
you pulled over and we inspected it.
i was rather disgusted, but you picked it up and coddled it 'cause it had fur.
you kept coo'ing at it and asked it what it's name was (expecting no answer)
but it struggled to utter "Love".
we begrudgingly decided to take it home
and made a bed for it and nourished it back to health.
a week later we were drinking Earl Grey by the fireplace,
heard a rumbling
and looked around to see it standing there looking at us.
it was 7' tall and had an expression of awe, wonder, and terror
as if it thought we would ****** it at any second.
each night it had a different face, resembling one of your former playthings.
you never called it the same name twice.
a week later, it couldn't fit through any of the doorways.
we always came home to plaster, paint and drywall scattered everywhere.
i complained.
"Love has broad shoulders", you quipped.
it had grown too much for us.
a week later, i spent the afternoon at the bar and you were shopping.
we rendezvoused back home at 3PM.
only to find a gaping hole where the front door used to be.
everything inside totaled.
precious collections, expensive technology, jewelry...
all gone (or destroyed beyond recognition).
i railed, "Love ruined EVERYTHING!!!"
you seemed to take no note, kept your composure and muttered, "It always does" and just began sweeping.
the next day we got a kitten from the animal shelter,
and were laying in bed with it at night.
i asked, "Do you think Love will ever come back?"
you answered coldly, "It never does".
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 1:17 AM UTC
Complex cosmos.
Intertwined divine.
Emerging energies tangled in vibrant vibrations.
Beings of light.
Woven through time and space.
Mind meeting spirit.
An Awakening.
Truth echoes in the silent wind.
Open eyes with ancient ties.
The illusion is wearing off.
Dormant souls colliding,
Seeing light beyond this realm.
A revolution beyond government and world order.
A conscious shift, long awaited.
Beyond technology and media schemes.
A new view.
Simply pure.
Beautifully complex.
A transcending universe in the minds eye.
Opening mystical doorways into the great forgotten.
Taking spirit back.
Claiming love and light for all who accept it.
Nature fueling the human imagination.
The endless curiosity,
We are cleverly designed to crave.
Follow me tonight,
I’m the stars in the sky.
We’re all just seeking truth
And we’re just passing by.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 4:57 AM UTC
*if only I knew how to love...
for my Victoria
winces-grimaces, that these words even leave my fingertips,
reminiscences, a chrome bookmark tab full of decades of near misses,
instances, subway sideway stolen daily glances of she who would be the only, the one, but one day failed to appear, left to dream peer,
and/or
decades long of romanced lasses, flying spectacular super crashes, when my heart-blanched, lanced, and the lawyers danced, poems shriveled as dried ink crack'd and words rusted shut,
cut by so many p'raps, and ugly motives, beautiful covered up, disguised as synapses of sin and insincerity, and I,
the sad man,
both the sinner and the sinned against,
totalities, of shoulda-woulda-asked/kissed-her-gallantly,
activities, when kisses were doorways to trap door rooms
and an over decorated monte cristo prison cell
ah well
the 'and yet,' the 'but for,' a single finger, sealing silenced lips,
passions mourned and irrevocable sensations, frittered, fractured,
all that I calmly called love was sprigs and broken branches,
cut flowers destined to shrivel,
not of what I believed in, something akin to a tree rooted, an oaken strong unbreakable love
of this certain, all approximations, all failed incantations,
for surely, if but only one escaped, could have been saved,
and if truthful love it was,
I would have known it,
for would I have dared to let slip away?
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 6:05 PM UTC
Sometimes I choke back tears
Sometimes I hinder in doorways
Sometimes I'm just numb
But I'm always throwing up anti depressants
Sometimes I feel like nothing at all
Sometimes I use the scissors
Sometimes I OD
Then I'm throwing up anti depressants
Sometimes I think it's all okay
Sometimes I smile again
Sometimes it's not worth it
So I'm throwing up anti depressants
Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever wake
Sometimes I wonder if I want to
Sometimes my dreams are everything
I'm just throwing up anti depressants
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 12:34 AM UTC