"drys" poems
*These feelings & emotions
Feel as if they are Infused inside,
A depressed state of mind
Discovering myself is the hardest rhyme,
I drown in every hide tide
Never able to win
Restraining the pain within
My blood drys thin
Noise mutters from the hells next door
Waves crashing at the shore
Of my brittle skin
Crying on the edges of hell
A heart that can't mend
Handling what I can't hold in
I swallow down my sins*
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 7:33 PM UTC
Everytime she loves , her heartbreaks ,her soul bleeds,the more scars she has ,the more her heart turns black and the flowers in the forest in her garden die, her wings turn black so dark , she begins to not believe in love , she begins to fade away so does her love,her wings turn black and so does her eyes, she flys to her castle and hides away from the sun and never comes out until the sun is gone , no bright colors and her dark black eyes ,her soul bleeding out every time she cries ,this is what happens when she begins to break,everything begans to fade away until All her pain Is gone and everything comes back to life , the flowers start to bloom and her eyes aren't dark but blue like the sky and she begans to stop crying and her heart drys up ,the scars heel but forever there ,her heart turns red and the garden comes back to life, but her belief in love isn't so easy to spark up, her wings aren't dark and either are her eyes , shes at peace and happy again until the end of time .
Jun 18, 2020
Jun 18, 2020 at 1:04 AM UTC
I stare out into a Bob Ross painted sky, drifting in and out of a black and white dream
Watching colors fade away and appear as I open my eyes, the scenes played out in front of me challenge my beliefs
I get lost in the shadows of an evil that seems to dwell, it's trapped too deep inside me to hope for anything
Like a movie playing, I can't seem to tell, which character is the most related to me
I'm an on and off switch trapped in a tornado warning of emotions I can't begin to understand
Stuck between two paralleling lines I can no longer command
I couldn't tell you how fast I'm going or if I'm even really here
And as the paint drys on my life, an unfinished product is my only fear
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 5:56 PM UTC
My first-aid kit drys up in the sun, but everything important still works after I shake out all the love.
The words I need to release next can dance a seizure in your chest.
A prom of the heart.
It feels strange to whisper caving secrets across a desert.
Like how I fear that I'll run out of skin before patience.
How lots has been bleeding since we last spoke.
And how it feels better to rain over an aqua covered Monday, than to drown my lobes into infomercial.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 2:42 AM UTC
wouldst you in the mist of my confusion
have me become a white mosquito boy
that by a grafted tongue would
mould powerful changes
around bliss and ecstasy
that by garb and candor grafts defying gender roles
causes by his spaces openness
a sexuality, moulding, mounting new and explosive intimacies
and yet my fevered brain
hotter than the hottest summer
wishes to embrace a white mosquitoe boy
become the cannibal of his dimensions
be subject to his unremarked experiments
Oh, will I become a native of these everyday practices
a white mosquitoe boy
evolving into a public ethic
a dangerously obscure central truth
the ink lies still wet on y confused thinking
while the white mosquitoe boys call me ” Le Mome”
shall I enter their grand boulevards
the ink drys, it speaks
its beautiful wondrous notation
says “YES”, yes it says, it says yes
you don’t become a mosquitoe boy
YOU ARE BORN ONE
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC
dish soap soaked rags ripening my skin
as my hands dry out and ache for moisture
an ache for love pruning my skin
as my heart drys out and aches for moisture
I remember waking up to screaming
to loud tvs and sometimes old hip hop playing on our sound system
the lightened heavy twang of country from my old radio being smothered
I could hear you cussing and throwing dishes in the sink
I could hear your heavy sighs and your angry tone under your breath
and I remember waking ***** up to feel comfortable again
I remember crawling in her bed because she was the only place I was safe
and I remember when you threw the gasoline in his eyes
when we were locked out of the house
I remember coming home to an empty house, scared and tired
and screaming at ***** because I needed to take it out on someone
because god forbid me from taking it out on you
and now you want to be my friend
because you can't be a mother
and ***** is off in her new life and we stick together
under the heated lamp of the pressure you still put on both of us
and the other afternoon I woke up again to you slamming a door
and throwing your bags around
and huffing and shouting to yourself
but this time you thought you were alone
maybe that's where you're safest
alone
but now you'll take it all out on her
your mania will worsen through the years
I'll leave, I've left
and you blame me for your misery
but you hide it some days
so I leave you alone
because that's where you're safest
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 12:04 AM UTC
The river of ink flows dark cozened blue,
Flowing so smoothly from a source made of true.
It carves out a path with many a turn;
O! To see how those ill waters churn.
But the river drys up as the ink feels its age
And the lies begin to fill up the page;
Steeped in sepia, fading to sight
As the river of ink drys up in the light.
So we mourn for the river that told us the truth,
For the source we knew held the fountain of youth,
And we curl up our bones in the dust of our ink
And cry for the truths that taught us to think.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
Depression watches me.
Waiting for the ****
Depression tugs me under the waves.
Under the waves of the grey sea.
Depression holds on tight.
Wraps its arms around me.
It wispers in my ears.
Rocks me to sleep every night.
Depression is listening when I cry.
It drys the tears from my cheeks.
It encourages me to sleep.
It tells me when I should die.
Depression stares as I fall over the edge.
Depression talks in my ear.
Says sorry my dear.
I pushed you off the ledge.
And now depression made me dead.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 2:14 AM UTC
Lost in the grain
without the sun and moon,
just the darkness and gloom
chilled to the bone in the rain
Without direction
No plans, no desires
just a heart and worn advice
I sit in solemn reflection
If it has not always been this way
Can I walk out the way I came in?
I don't know
I'll wait till the grain drys
and my thoughts are ready for harvest
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 11:18 PM UTC
Lizards sun, drag hours for themselves
On the baked rock face,
With tense hands prepared always
To run, even in the face of bliss.
Hands curve prematurely,
Turn rock face into a more appealing
Rock bodice, and the
Lizards are cast away
By the sudden **** of millennia.
Do not litter the bettered stone
With a dainty snowflake likeness
Sought in the bedragglings of
Their skeletons.
What little ancestry to look back upon.
It's probably better...
No, absolutely it is.
That is the cry of the valley:
Massed voices weighted with spring
And enunciated by winters.
The sunrock bathes for
Whoever knows how long,
In drys
And in humids.
And then one day is crushed
Underfoot by the hulking form,
By the tense little claw of a
Reckoning nomad.
The surroundings look
Sharp at the smart little giant
And pull themselves neatly away from the dust.
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 2:58 PM UTC
And like that she became wet.
********** before she bathed in the storm.
Umbrella left home, by the door.
She wanted to be cleansed.
Clothes thrown to the side.
Where's the fun in being dry.
To rush every moment that craves to be moist.
Splashing in puddle after puddle.
The Infatuation of being free.
The depth of being caught in a portrait just before it drys.
Covered in layer after layer of heavy blue.
A foam of white.
A kiss that quenches every thirst.
Our lips the brush that sops the wetness.
Forever more.
To purposely be caught without an umbrella
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 12:36 PM UTC
My blood boils as I lust for your touch. My skin drys as your liquid like hands that fit perfectly with mine have been absent for some time. I do not expect a return. I do not anticipate a change of heart. Just don't forget about what we could have been, don't forget the way I looked at you, don't forget the hightened heartbeat I sustained while in your presence. To say I miss you would undercut your effect. To say I miss you would need many more words.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
As I lay here waiting
Watching
The breeze sends a chill down my spin as it drys the cold sweat
I've done this a thousand times
An each time it's taken a piece of me
I feel empty like a bullet shell I just fired
I've been doing this to long
Far away from home
I've forgotten there voices
Their faces blurry
Your memories replaced by nightmares of dead bodies falling
As I'm lost in thought
I get a message
The target has arrived
I regain focus
And stare down the scope
Searching for you through out the crowd
Found you standing in the open
I can see your heartbeat from outside your chest
I can see you exhale
And wipe off the sweat
You seem nervous
I focus again an take aim
But you don't move
You stand there
Like your begging for me to shoot
You check your time piece growing more anxious
Your just another sacrificial lamb to me
I put my finger on the trigger
Take a deep breath gaining composer
The wind picks up forcing me to change the dial on the scope
As I'm ready to firer
I can hear feet teasing the ground behind me
But before I can react I feel a sharp pain an the world fades to black
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
My mind likes to wonder
Yet so does my feet
I'll lay in my bed all night
and yet I can not fall asleep,
Is this a curse
or is this sign
or blessing in disguise,
I've asked myself so many questions
but I've never received a reply,
A new journey awaits all of us
yet sometimes we shy off in fear,
embrace the universe
it is the shoulder that drys our tears,
with my mind drawing blanks
and my feet that are on fire
I will journey into the unknown
because the unknown is what WE desire.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 6:25 PM UTC
I seem to write and not compose,
These songs lips and bodies are so fond of,
Things ears listen to and without squinting...
The heart can hear.
But I write and not compose,
So that everything becomes more difficult,
To understand.
And the ink drys but never stains the brain,
With what I want to say...
Or a point I wanted to get across.
It's a price to say,
Everything.
When holding back,
Will make them belt out...
Or hold up the little flames and rise together.
Yet, here I am writing and not composing.
You can not dance to this.
This is not a community.
Only singular thought escapes a scene,
To follow a thread,
Down to the seam,
To reach the hem.
But I still just write, not compose
Mar 14, 2011
Mar 14, 2011 at 11:43 AM UTC
My life is like quicksand,
I continuously sink slowly,
Kick and drag myself up high enough just to gulp at air.
Then follows the slow descent.
I'm unsure of what's at the bottom
But my toes have tickled it a few times
Then the beast bellows and laughs,
Sending tsunami waves through the sand;
I roll like a ship about to be taken under by fierce swell.
Sometimes I think the quicksand is encased in my skull...
Sometimes I think the depths of the quicksand settle on the top of my spinal cord.
Sometimes I think I'm numb from the corrosive vibrations of the sludgy water-sand mix:
Jamming my nervous system, rusting it over.
But then the memory of pressure of your hand around my neck
Makes me forget the metaphor of the sand
And the make-believe depression.
And the blood in my nose, that drips and drys and repeats itself daily
Exists because you forced my head against the wall so many times.
Razors are not a comfort they are a fear and I still cough them up from my lungs.
I realise you are not terrifying
I realise that you do not own my life
You do not decide that I am real or fake or suffering.
I realise that you are only a scar
That I am slathering oils and remedies over
In order to make the red fade.
I realise that I am so *******
H A P P Y
One year on;
And I have overcome your disease,
Dislodged your putrid fangs,
Rebuilt myself,
Healed, cured myself...
Found a real person
Who knows how to love me
And teach me to love me.
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 3:07 AM UTC
you say hello
they dont know
you seem fine
they dont know
they dont know you cry yourself to sleep
they dont know who drys your tears
they dont know who you realy are
they dont like to laough around you
you are alway smiling
you are wearing sweat shirts
and jeans to cover the bruses
so that they dont see
you love them dearly even though they dont know
they will never discover
the truth they dont know
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 6:32 PM UTC
A broken heart
But a toy to someone who was bored
You need to put those pieces back together
Sweet little doll
Sad little soldier
those piece will get lost if not fixed
I will help
I will sew those broken pieces together
Using the faiths string
And I will use gallons of glue
To fix the cracks that cover your sad eyes
Those scars will heal
Just as glue drys and stitches are forgotten
But I cant promise someone wont do it again
Girls play with boys hearts as though they were puppets
Boys play with the girls as though they were dolls
These hearts arent toys
And they arent a easy fix
Jan 20, 2020
Jan 20, 2020 at 12:18 AM UTC
Skin drys out, cracks,
Breaks.
Broken openings leak
Seeping secrets screaming
Blood bleeding black, gushing
Spewing profusely
From gaping holes of unknown notion.
Absence of reality
Flickering like static in the background.
Backtracking through endless experiences,
And falling through infinite possibilities.
The same new thing.
That new old feeling.
Body crumbles, collides within itself.
Scattered shards of fragmented potential,
Now settling in the air-
A film of dusty desolation left to subside.
Left to fill the lungs of nobody,
With sticky stinging, heavy thick
Strangle choke of no one.
Disintegrate, and
Disappear.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
As I sit here amongst the dark
it can never match the shade of my heart
this ****** world, this ****** pain
Neither can I ever escape
As sound of my sobbing disperses into the night
I know they will never be heard
Not even one ear will even be disturbed
In this moment I can optimize my weakness
And tell you that it will encounter no resistance
I cant hold on the something with no texture
I cant go on knowing none of the answers
The laughter surrounds me
An atmosphere so un-suited
My mind so diluted, and I cant relate to them
They cant relate to me, or even begin to see
Why is it the darkness that I seek
Why all of this social anxiety
I understand myself but I never react
Possibly I cant
But can I establish that
Is it a fact
Or am I just ashamed, that I wont be able to face this pain
That I cant make it go away
And instead of getting help I just make it harder on myself
It can all be traced back the fear
This Fear trapped within, always to remain
And everyday its simply the same
Eating away at my brain
All these minutes I become less sane
So step out of the way
Wouldn’t want this train wreck to touch you
I don’t want to spread my infection
Because they’re will be no resurrection
The ****** razor in my hand
And I will never understand
why I cant just end it
all I can ever do is mend it
with sight of the blood
and my hopes for love
my heart so thrashed
I should just end it at last
Then I could forget the past
And **** the future
There are plenty of other people just like me
To fill the my absentee
Blood drips from my eyes
As I remove my disguise
How do you like it you get to see my real life
As the blood drys to my face
I’m left in the darkness and its cold embrace
Nothing left to conceal
I guess you now know how I really feel
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 8:40 PM UTC
How can they drain a poem a day, written in ink, destilled emotion,
How can they strain to do poems that take a month to read,
that is a lot of ink to bleed.
Is it possible to write, adding colour to leaves and sheaves of
words,
hanging them on dried and dead winter branches, STAY!,
with where my imagination rests frozen,
out there in the open,
hoping, looking, seeking
the friction of distraction to warm me up,
so my imagination moves,
it needs to move,
or I become frozen,
where there is an ill wind,
where there is a chill wind,
which hardens my heart,
and drys up the ink,
which looks like
my
own
blood
without
Purpose or
without
Prose
P and P
©DWE122013
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 1:36 AM UTC
our relationship has dryed like paint drys on a wall
I see pictures with living eyes,
making statements of their lives
I see statues pass and go,
judge me down from head to toe,
Sends a shiver down my spine,
im so glad that she is mine tonight
apart we are drained of joy like a dry river too deep to walk too empty for boats
and he dictates my life,
i facilitated to prove him right,
standing overhead my dreams,
fills my head with tortured screams
sends a shiver down my spine
im so glad that she is mine tonight
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
why don't you get me?
but you get yourself,
i'm you inside your mind, you're not special.
Mankind is more than you,
but man doesn't exist - other than yourself.
what a pity,
the city is so pretty.
made by those more busy than your idle hands and plans.
your vision -
solipsism,
you won't listen to me who loves you more than you could ever believe,
but i'm not programmed to project my beliefs on the television screen.
they'll never listen.
more fool you.
you're a fool,
fools gold.
been told,
but you still don't know,
how we grow and how we've grown.
nevermind, nirvana said.
you were never mine, karma said,
lay me to rest in the restless tempress of your best dress and whatever you say, and whatever you said.
what did you say i don't know and i've no idea what you said.
it's black and white, i fell for you like the domino effect.
what did you expect darling?
oh darling. you should know me by know.
i'm the ghost in the clouds that rains down when the conversation drys out.
fluffy and high,
i'll pass by soon,
and the skies will be blue again.
just like you again
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
last night on the drive home a street sign waved hello.
the heat has come like a fever
it fries the nightlines in a humid soup
it drys your throat and chokes your eyeballs
oh **** it burns the tiny cuts in your sweaty hands
you've a need to break a melon and drink.
you've a need to roast sugars and tell tall tales of distant frights.
what real horrors lurk there
beneath the surface like smoke?
a dream, a fever, a skittering nightmare
it will come it will pass and we will all freeze.
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 12:01 PM UTC
I drain these once were words
Turned to thoughts.
From my pen, to paper
Yet you still refuse to read them.
As my pen ink drys
And tears subside.
Thinking this road,
Has come to an end, for tonight.
I swig my whiskey,
Stare in my mirror,
Are you going to let them stop you?
All of your fears?
I curse to God, for he's the only one who cares.
Light a smoke, as it rolls to my eye
The last of my ink, in my pen has died.
These words are no good,
Yet these thoughts, must be read.
I must carry on,
The message in my head.
I grab my worthy pen,
"Let's make history my friend "
Jabbing it's point to my heart
Filling it with my thoughts,
Torn apart.
Now I will write in blood
My thoughts of strength flood
My mind sets free
As my heart still bleeds.
Dying slowly, I smile
Finally you see my style.
Read these words, of once was I
Then burn them with my soul aside
Set them free to the sky
Scattered ashes, say goodbye.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC