"naively" poems
Depression is hard to understand. The dictionary naively refers to it as, "feelings of severe despondency and dejection." But what does the dictionary know about depression? I think depression is more complicated than that. But I don't quite know what that consists of. I've been trying to figure it out for months now, and I just can't seem to understand. I don't know what depression is, but I can tell you what it's not.
Depression is not polite. Depression doesn't knock before he barges in. He just lets himself in, unannounced and unexpected, and leaves me gasping for what little air is left in the room.
Depression isn't clean. He doesn't tidy up after he makes a mess. He comes into my life like a hurricane, and leaves me to pick up the crumbled pieces of my rubbled life.
Depression isn't moral. He steals my happiness and kills my spirit. He doesn't abide by any common rules or laws, he makes his own rules and I have to play by them.
Depression isn't popular. The only "friends" he has are his victims. He drags me away from everyone who used to love me, and leaves me isolated in a cold, dark place.
Depression isn't respectful. He claws his way into the lives of so many genuine people and drives them to the brink of insanity. He has no regard for my thoughts or my feelings, stomping all over me until there's nothing decent left to salvage.
Depression isn't creative. He tells you everything as it is and makes you see all of the terrible things poisoning the world. He doesn't sugarcoat the truth, no matter how much it hurts, and he helped me clearly see even my smallest of flaws.
Depression isn't nice. He calls me ugly and tells me I'm worthless. The words he whispers ring in my ears: **** yourself, **** yourself, **** yourself."
It's hard to define depression. It doesn't fit into a small box. I've practically driven myself crazy trying to figure out what it is and why this is happening to me. I don't understand depression, and no matter how hard I try to define it, I always fall short. I don't know if depression can ever be defined. While I try aimlessly to define the undefinable, depression ruthlessly takes advantage of me. I can try as much as I'd like, but I don't define depression, depression defines me.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 7:05 PM UTC
i used to climb the tallest tree
just to leave behind the ground
sing as loud as i could breathe
about the shapes of passing clouds
mum would haller up to the heavens:
"STOP IT !"
... "they’ll think you’re Mad!"
... whoever "they" were (?)!
i naively pondered thence ―
now, the tree is gone,
"they" chopped it
all the way down
to memories and decomposing roots
but i still see life unspool
in the silent shapes of clouds
and
hear the birds sing sweetly
without a single word
☁ ☁ ☁ ☁ ☼ ☁ ☁ ☁ ☁
jesse
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
Ah, the season of gifting.
Antagonist of year-long thrifting.
Tradition sadistic,
Materialistic,
Four quarters in pockets worth sifting.
This year I hereby proclaim
I shan’t be consumed by the game.
Cycle of curse
Purpose perverse
The namesake, an oversight became.
Christ’s birth did in fact begin,
Holiday distracted by sin.
Misguided it be
To forget idly
The sacrifice He made for all men.
We naively regard generosity
As holiday’s behavioral piosity.
But if dollars and cents
Are the tools of offense
Over shadow favor luminosity.
Water in Africa is *****
American child in poverty.
Politics aside,
Convenient homicide,
To enable the ills of society.
In the global economy we flaunt
Wealth by comparison, bitter taunt.
First world problems abound
Pass the turkey around
Central heating and air, what a jaunt!
What if this season we decide
To extend two palms open wide?
Sacrificing ourselves
Rather than stocking our shelves
Dying whispers echo true: “we tried.”
Don’t spend your money on me this year.
Not iPhones, not tickets, not Blu-ray or beer.
Instead know you can
Distribute more than
A snort, a lie, and a tear.
(optional conclusion to assist interpretation of last line)
Snort of derision,
Lies of provision,
Tears, even true,
Hardly subdue
Anguish deprived of tradition’s revision.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
When I'd wake alone in bed at 4am
Again
To find you passed out
on the couch
Too wasted to notice
the heart breaking in front of you
I tried every day
But you preferred synthetic hugs
and to hide in a place
where the expectations were low
Escapes and excuses
more alluring than I could ever be
Through tears I would plead
'Why don't you want to sleep with me!?'
I shouldn't have taken it so personally
But nobody saw me cry
Especially not you
Blind to my own tears
Large doses of denial dished out
A feast for the masses
Perhaps the most powerful drug of them all
My soul mate disappeared
each day
a little more
Maybe today will be different
Hope
The beautiful motivator
Maybe today
It will be me that you choose
Naively believing
that you had control
But then I woke
alone in bed at 4am
Again
Manipulated and used
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 11:04 AM UTC
Am I attractive, hot, or ****
Or just a forlorn idiot flexing
In order to join the *** scene?
I put a towel down
And set up a picnic
My head spins round
From the dirt they kick
On my meal
To make me feel
Scared and alone
With nowhere to roam
So I stay here laying in the sun
On the other side of a Gatling gun
I searched for a savior
Who's willing to say words
To me
For free
My search was fruitless
My eyes turned youthless
I grazed in the grass
As time quickly passed
After I finished my food
And was left there to brood
I became a floating satellite
That was accustomed to night
Because of my frights
That reflected all light
Now I see ants trying to feed on my crumbs
They must think I'm pretty desperately dumb
To not know they enforced my segregation
When I had naively sought validation
I waited there silently salivating
They responded by not validating
It's for that bitter reason
During my new season
I reflect my light on the approaching ants
So I may thwart their encroaching dance
My humble heart yearns
As I watch bugs burn
They wouldn't partake in my feast
So I morphed into a brutish beast
Now they're here to eat what's left
If they can survive my dragon's breath
They put out the fire in my heart
But ignited my mind
My useless humanity parts
As I focus on time
A time that keeps passing
While signs keep flashing
As burning bugs dying
Or sad satellites flying
My life was no peaceful picnic
After they noticed my sickness
And left me alone
For that is my home
When I don't need validation anymore
I search for love
Unfortunately I know what's in store
A picnic in the mud
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 2:58 AM UTC
*hitherto i naively challenged
my decision to enter an ominous existence
a vicious maze veiled in obscurity
inconceivable to navigate without the accumulation
of bruises, heartache, and psychic mutilation
the torment’s ache so unfathomable
i begged to evaporate beseeching death’s arrival
and with the dexterity of a masterful wizard
i magically spun threads of my shredded soul
into a mangled ball of mental lacerations
then stealthily in the opaque of the night
i rushed the frigid black ocean’s high tide
and deluging myself in the ebony water
i buried the battered ball
now deeply eclipsed in the onyx abyss
it sapped all my strength to hold it under
drowning in the wave’s of sea motion
stinging salt alive on my pours
gasping for air i surrendered my grip
releasing my marred orb of élan vital
capitulating to the sand on the beach
i ceded the fight and watched the sphere roll
unraveling it glistened against the white sand
an opalescent tapestry lit by twilight
mirroring the stars against the coal sky
in the lustrous lunar midnight
reflected back by silver moonlight
littered with specks of fluorescent insight
astonished i drew in my breath as i read
words interlaced in the untangled web
the wounds are there
creating a looking glass
peer in
and you will heal
your own consciousness
©2016janetaylor
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
sometimes when i am trapped inside my own mind
and feel like i’m drowning in the taste of air,
suddenly i am eight years old years,
bobbing up and down in my wimpy life jacket
my legs unsupported
and there is still a chip on my shoulder
a mile wide.
sometimes i am still the five year old who balled her eyes out
when her parents accidentally forgot and were late
picking her up from preschool,
sometimes i am still sixteen years old and in love with you
sometimes i am a person i never thought i’d manage to grow into,
sometimes i am a person i’ve yet to become.
i am juxtaposition of a thousand different versions of myself.
i am equally the eight year old girl still afraid of the water
as i am the almost-adult you so naively believed to be fearless,
my self-assurance a really good halloween costume.
i am a newborn at the same time
as i am frail ninety year old grandmother.
i am brave and i am terrified
and i am naive and i am jaded
and i am clean and i am ruined;
i am a blank slate and i have been scribbled all over,
my skin is smooth and untouched
my skin has laughter lines and stretch marks.
i am the creator and i am the destroyer,
i am everything and
nothing at all.
i am the ocean
and i am the desert.
my lungs are failing as i’m breathing fine,
and i can see the end and the beginning in equal clarity.
sometimes i’m too old for my skin,
weary like i’ve lived a thousand lives already
and sometimes i am four years old with
my knees hugged to my chest.
sometimes we are two and sometimes we are twenty,
sometimes we were nine and sometimes we are ninety.
we are young and dumb and reckless at the same time
as we are old and wise and careful.
sometimes my father is still a gap-toothed five year old
and my mother is still a tired old woman
with shaking hands,
and my brother is still an angry teenager with a bad hair cut.
we are existing simultaneously
and growing up is just getting really good at pretending
that you’ve got your **** all figured out
when you still feel like a lonely middle-schooler
without a date to the mixer,
alone in the middle to gymnasium floor.
but that’s the thing, isn’t it?
when you are cut open, when you are bleeding,
when you have gaping holes in your nervous system
your flesh heals over
it scars, brand new.
we are bleeding and we we are healed,
we are ******* up
and we are doing just fine.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC
Somewhere in the South Pacific
a human-shaped speck casts a bottle
from the shore of a tiny island
into the interminable sea.
The bottle contains a note
which bears:
a name
an approximate location
and a desperate plea.
The bottle drifts slowly away
flashing in and out of view
on the crests of passing swells.
It glides on mysterious currents
and a quiet modicum of hope.
Simultaneously,
Above a particular point in the Northern Hemisphere,
a ball of tin foil
labeled Voyager I
is crossing the threshold
into the world outside
the solar system.
On board are a pair of golden discs
engraved with:
images and voices of human beings
the relative location of the Sun to fourteen nearby pulsars
and a plea,
naively disguised to look like a proud declaration of identity
but what proud and accomplished
race of beings
would need to search for
companionship
among the stars?
The little metal ball floats away
blinking bits of data back to Earth
each grainier than
the last
tugged by the gravity of distant bodies
and a quiet modicum of
hope.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:21 AM UTC
Yeah, we have a great relationship. But imagine how much better this would be if I actually loved you back?
But oops, that's right. I forgot to tell you that I'm kind of incapable of loving another human being.
But it's okay, it's not like love is real anyways.
And even though a good percentage of the general population have the same opinion as me, I'm labeled by those around me as a cynical, lonely, pessimistic girl, simply because others can't seem to comprehend that everything I say is derived from my own personal perspective and observations that I've made.
What was it that the naively optimistic, overly positive young man from the book store called me?
Oh yes, an "unjustifiably, unnecessarily negative teen who is disappointed with her life because she has yet to 'experience love.'"
Despite his ignorance and obscenely immature mindset, which evidently accounted for his matching personality, I don't think he realized that my lack of belief in the existence of "true love" was the exactly the reason that I was in the book store.
Because, as I came to realize, it appears that the only form of "love" that I seem to recognize as being adequate enough to somewhat believe in are those spoken of and created in novels.
It's formulated by the birth of a ridiculously intense, love fueled storyline, supported by a mindful choice of cohesive, dramatic, and emotional words.
Hence, fictional love is born, except to most it doesn't seem fictional because it's so breathtaking to read about.
They believe in it, they worship it.
As if it actually exists in an alternate universe.
The unrealistic perfection of it gives them a disgusting, false hope which just drives them to cling to it more.
It's a drug to them, they can't live without the hope that such a "love" exists somewhere in the world; they need it.
And the sad part is, they're completely oblivious to the fact that they have just become addicts, that they just sold their soul and relinquished part of their freedom to a fictitious concept.
It's so fake, it's almost real.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 4:10 AM UTC
You were like a wild fire
That I watched from a distance
Yet somehow you caught my heart
I wanted to be closer, in your presence
So trusting, I reached out my hand
In order to be embraced by you
Aggressively, painfully you took it
And naively I didn't have a clue
That my hand claimed to be unfit
You burned my skin around and through
Crazily I thought I would get used to it
Build up a tolerance that was tough and true
I was mesmerized by your puzzling beauty
How brightly you shined on your own
Throughout the day until the night
I never felt like I was alone
However my tolerance
Didn't seem to grow
Your flames started to consume me
Taking more as they go
You weren't satisfied with a piece of me
You wanted more than I could show
Oddly enough I relished in it
My crazy passionate joking beau
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 7:41 PM UTC
I stand there, avoiding the instance of your coming
letting the noise drown my thoughts
allowing the wind to remind me to move on
restricting any word to escape my mouth
But my senses always got the best of me
I feel you
My skin could not contain it's longing to be held again
I hear you
My ears immediately focus on your husky voice
I smell you
My nose has never been so familiarized to a scent
I see you
My eyes lose control but manage to cancel everyone else in the room
I almost talk to you
My mouth chokes and reminds itself that I am its master
I let this mutiny pass with the exception of my words
Restraint is our motto
But I guess I couldn't avoid the unplanned rendezvous of our eyes
You're coming closer
Your eyes filled with determination
filled with comfort
filled with happiness
While mine remain the total opposite
You comfortably say, "How are you?"
How dare you
You managed to make my mind lose it's control once again
You have manipulated it to reminisce a tormenting past
Something I thought I have trained it not to do
Ruining my scripted response of "I'm fine"
Messing up the story line in a matter of three words
My eyes are telling a story
I hope it's language is foreign to you
My eyes
I recall you saying it was my best asset
And often I would close it, an action I'm restraining at the moment
You know I closed it when you touched me
Setting my skin ablaze with the feeling of security
I closed it when you carelessly said "I love you"
Making my gullible heart get too attached
I closed it when you cuddled me
Wanting to get lost in the moment
I closed it when you kissed me
Hoping the feeling will last forever
I closed it when you stopped all these
Wondering what I was doing wrong
I closed it when you were texting someone else
Dying to know who, but afraid to ask
I closed it when you lied to me
Wishing you would take it back
I closed it when you left me
A moment tattooed in my vision
Open or closed, I see it
And others see it too
Your question remains unanswered by words
I will not close my eyes
Not this time
I'm just staring
Directly at your beautiful pair
Half-hoping you see it too
My eyes that scream "Save me"
Louder than what my lungs can reach
For this is the most effective way to respond
Everything made sense
And my senses were playing along
But you walked away naively
And what hurt me the most was the fact that
You
read
my
eyes
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
No, no, I haven’t been doing this myself,
but I live in Cambodia,
and 2 guys and a girl were deported recently
for riding around on a motorbike in the ****
in broad daylight. Actually, you see,
naively or deliberately,
they rode right past a police station.
Now that must have been a sight for sore eyes.
So the police set out in hot pursuit,
rubbing their sore eyes, or whatever they rub,
maybe their truncheons, eh?
And when the perps were pulled over,
the cops didn’t fall about with hilarity
when these riders said quite calmly
that they were going to pick up their laundry.
Truly! They were backpackers! As if that explained it.
But publicly, the cops said nope,
these perps are obscene to be seen like this
and they violate Khmer customs and culture.
The cops even took pictures of this outrageous obscenity.
Indeed. The riders' rapture of being bare assed
and naked and **** free is not for Cambodia.
Certainly not at this juncture.
So their capture resulted in them being deported,
never to show hide nor hair in the country again.
Just goes to show...
But you can get away with ****** here,
particularly shooting union leaders or critics or protestors,
or you can throw a grenade into the opposition,
and **** a few right there. Those killers go free.
It's probably dangerous to speak openly,
but I don't think these guys read poetry.
They're probably busy oiling their artillery,
and even rocket launchers, as the PM
threatened to use against the opposition recently.
Seriously.
They're on the lookout for dissenters here.
Oh yes. And bare ***** Obviously.
So watch you **** in Cambodia,
especially if it's bare on a bike.
And ssshhh! Watch out for your mouth.
You need to cover your mouth up properly, too.
Mike T Minehan
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 5:01 AM UTC
i’m drowning in new york city.
i want to die, again.
always! why is it like this?
i hate everyone; i want my ****** dramatic burlington life and friends back.
her, him, those two, even them…
i want it back.
i wanna be no one.
i wanna be everyone.
i;m full of emotions that i don’t want because everything is so different except for them.
no matter what i do the doom and gloom is always there.
i wanna change my name
i wanna get a dog—auggie or esme, a red border collie—and flee to the south.
I WANNA DRINK MYSELF TO DEATH.
i see these visions of a stable, happy, healthy version of myself but i also see these visions of me literally not making it past age 21.
i’m eternally stuck on self destructing.
but why?
why!
everything is good but it’s never enough.
i’m never enough, it’s never enough, he’s never enough (whoever he is at any given moment)
sam says he’ll fly me back to santa cruz and my insanity says do it but the small semblance of “morals” i still possess tell me not to…
only because of my parents. because of joe.
i don’t want to hurt them.
i don’t want to hurt anyone. but i’m hurting. always. forever. unless i’m drunk. no, wait…even when i’m drunk. i learned that the hard time this last run.
but life is meaningless (words are meaningless and forgettable) and time is a flat circle
blah blah blah
i’ve been here before
i’ll be here again
everything i do i’ll do over and over til i die.
if i don’t get drunk anytime soon i will eventually.
eternal return; the emo version of destiny.
remember when caroline myss’ book told me my highest potential was “victim”?
i’ll be drowning forever.
i’d rather be drowning in absinthe than drowning in aa meeting coffee.
i ache at the beauty of the world; the beauty which i will never achieve or be a part of.
i cry and i cry and i cry.
i want to be beautiful and pure but it’s all so dark.
all the people i’ve loved and who love me…i weep and i weep and i weep.
i can’t breathe fully; why do i wish i could not breathe at all?
i look back at all my pasts as if they were yesterday, and yet they all feel as if i’d made them up entirely.
disconnected and yet fully involved with each and every era of my evolution…
and yet i swear, i haven’t truly changed a bit.
the details change—the scenery, the faces, the dreams…
but all the emotions…all the thoughts…they stay the same.
“i won’t change, i’ll stay the same—darling, fade away…”
fading & falling & then blooming for a single lovely night
time is a flat circle.
i ache, i weep, i cry.
i naively hold onto the hope that someday…someday i’ll be okay.
please, god.
i have to be okay.
i have to turn off the bon iver.
i’m just trying to breathe.
maybe someday.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 1:27 PM UTC
The moon's virginal silvern lustre
drapes over the navy blue curtains
There is a sacred power that the moon has,
for it is the Left Eye of the goddess, Bast
An Eye of Ra, Great Lady of the East,
She Who Earned a Crown of
the Orisha
Her silverfire grants the felines power
to turn the simple black cat into a
panther at night
As black, swift and silent as a raven's wing
With eyes as green as a meadow in Spring
Stalking the jungle with the darkness
as her cloak
But with darkness dawns a new and bright light
For she is a Orisha with the sun in her heart
For she passes the flame into the herb
shaped like a heart, swept and burning
with violet glow
That burns through every vein of yours
and then you rise,
born again new
Consume that flame, eat Her heart and
she will meet you in the Ancestral
Planes but take great care,
as she grants you her
presence and power
on if you are worthy
Under the glimmering borealis
Flickers of violet and pink and white
becoming moving flames with kisses of blue
that stroke the various crests of clouds
Lights that dance, ride and raise with
winds of hope and change though
the infinite skies
Hearing murmurs and voices
the wind will blow around you,
a changed spirit
It is then you will know
It is then you will see
That Bast is smiling directly at you
Come and meet the Panthers who molded
the past in order to make sense
and build the future
Come and meet the Panthers who united
the tribes,
turning war to peace
And now here comes the new King
Who knows there is strength in unity
For tribes divided can never stand
And through learning that he possessed
a naively closed mind, scrutinised
the words spoken, not the ones
who were speaking
He was not his father but now with the
Mantle passed, he must learn from
his father's mistakes
Prince T'challa of Wakanda
Son of King T'chaka
Rise from cub to the
Panther on the
protective prowl
Seen worthy of Bast's blessings
carries her Eye that is never blind
He will remember all that his eyes have
scene from his successes and struggles
but also his heart
The Heart of a King
with the fire in his spirit
Sprint o'er the sea towards the horizon
The Black Panther who reigns
over Wakanda
How he stands proudly
with a coat of black
with his heart rooted and mind
conscious of the mistakes of the past,
has his eyes of the sunrise
which has the world and beyond
singing to the Sun, the Moon
and Wakanda's sacred tune
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
You are a beacon of light shining for me, the way home.
Which is a sort of contradiction because you are my home.
And right now I am just lost at sea.
I'm almost drowning in the ocean because I naively mistook it
for the depths of your eyes.
What a foolish, lovelorn mistake;
A mistake only lovers make.
For all I know you could give me an anchor disgused as a life preserver.
I'll take it because I trust too easily and I'll be thrusted down to the bottom
where the bodies of water keep their secrets.
I'm just another thing to keep quiet about.
Another mystery when the sun's up and another mistake when it's down.
The moon has a way of showing me for who I really am.
I want to yell out **** you" to it for illuminating me but I'll swallow water.
Just like I have choked back my love for you all this time out of fear
of your silence.
A silence I am all too familiar with.
I use my last breath to say that I'll miss you.
But only the fish can hear me.
And frankly, they don't give a ****
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC
Or do I already know?
I naively nourish these fervid feelings I hold.
Moving slowly, in rhythm, matching your sway,
Questionless is my admiration in every way.
Ardently I coast on the energy waves
Of your passions
And dispassionate despondency.
Waste the day together watching good TV;
It's not wasted if it's with you.
The never-ending riddle of learning how to love,
And learning how to love the one you love,
The one you think most of.
The unfaltering encouragement of success,
Filling in the blanks so the other won't stress.
I'll sweep the floors when you can't anymore,
Get us through the boring chores
Of every day life.
Those mundane motions for the future--
So much more to look forward to
With the addition of you.
Voices soften with the intimacy of quieter talk...
And the sensuality of our skin.
The carelessness and the giving in.
The tears shed, yours and mine,
Shared as "tiny dots on an endless timeline."
The subtleties of selflessness,
The subtleties of trying to change.
The obsession over mistakes,
Anxiety that keeps me awake.
Heated fights and
The addictive rush when we make up.
The selfishness, greed and possessiveness build up.
I am broken,
Or I act as if I am so.
I am broken, but there are sunflowers I wish to grow
In the broken *** within you
So that you may feel a little less broken too.
If this is love, I wish someone could tell me.
If this is love, why must it be so delicate,
Yet so assiduously enduring?
Continuous forgiveness
And the things we let each other get away with;
The "knowing better"s.
All those firsts, all those places that were meant to be with you.
Everything I would do
To make you smile.
How naturally I could laugh and feel at ease,
How naturally you brightened a smile on me.
How naturally, despite, we could become so miserable.
How naturally, despite, I could love so unconditional.
The wanting to just feel you there
Till we were unaware of our despair.
The frankness and the fall of our walls.
The letting go.
The folding up my heart and putting it away
When I can accept
It's not yet
To be worn by you.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 3:05 PM UTC
like fools, we dove into the shallow end.
head first. blind to the danger.
the jump itself was bliss.
fingers interlocked, laughter pouring from our mouths,
eyes bewitched and sparkling naively.
we were childlike. godlike. untouchable.
however our euphoria ended abruptly
at the reality of the encroaching cement bottom -
awaiting our skulls
but by the time we realized what was happening
it was too late.
you cannot stop gravity.
the smiles faded from our mouths.
and we went down,
down, down.
no hope for air.
no flailing limbs.
no final breath.
not a chance at revival.
we were dead on impact.
we never got to swim.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
The pool of rain shadowed the sun, dancing with a tepid demeanor. City lights' glamour reduced the light of the sun—melancholy was evident on her face, accompanied by the distinguished incorporeal's breath of air. The late-afternoon tea and dried-out smoke of snowy November.
It turned into night; the sun was still blatantly drowning in the pool of light, where a small trickle of its shadows tantalized the mockery arrayed in her face. Followed by the sickness in her stomach, pinching herself as she naively believed he loved her for all she is.
After all, he was the one who called her a goddess and even paralleled her in the universe in which Aphrodite takes part. Surprisingly and naively, still believed conspicuous lies. It scarred her. A mountain that cannot be climbed; a river where blood flows continuously; a garden full of thorns. The face of a fool.
The glamour wore off when he saw her on stage, where all of his queens and muses were. He wasn't even paying attention to her, and yet she was the only one who performed on stage—she rose and fell; she sang and moved like a goddess, surprising and naively believing he could take back her youth.
He watched her rise.
He watched her fall.
He watched her lose her life.
She hopelessly believed, with her skin and bones, that he'd choose her this time. He didn't.
Mar 9, 2024
Mar 9, 2024 at 3:28 PM UTC
Like the tide,
you, will, rise and fall, impossible to hold on to.
Just as a pattern emerges
your personality synchronises with the British weather.
Like a long summer evening in Shanghai you are warm and bright,
carefree as an afternoon breeze.
Making me smile, laugh, blush
such a tease.
Car rides into the sunset with
the windows down and the music up
sharing cigarettes.
But as you pull those dark shades over your eyes and soul
the rain begins to pour
the intimacy washes away
trust astray
several steps apart
from the inch we grew closer yesterday.
Laid back, insecure, self-centred, unreliable,
unstable, restless and emotinally unavailable
yet somehow charmingly mystic
surprisingly dashing
talented and well bred
unattainably captivating
naively helpless
shy
thus I cannot pin point why
I am drawn.
I regret not kissing you
and know I would still have
if I did...
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 8:58 PM UTC
Everything I'm feeling inside
is about to capsize.
I can't wait for these thoughts to subside
or will they collide
with the terrible force of my mind?
I say, God help me before I am confined
and so naively purblind.
I'm trying to find my way
and this may sound totally cliche
but **** I'm so terribly lost
I feel like my plans have crisscrossed.
But I'm actually star-crossed
with my own thought
of how I've turned into such a crackpot.
I'm so gone,
I'm squandered.
Am I being absurd?
My visions are blurred
and like a blind man I'm clobbered
by all the words that I have misheard.
But watch me
as I achieve
all that I can be.
I'm not a fool
I just need to refuel.
Take a moment
to just breathe...
..........
And I'll be back in full force
straight back on this wild concourse.
I'm not here to enforce
or endorse, I don't care
what's wrong with your discourse.
You're on your own, I'm on mine.
And I'm finding out why
this life is not so divine.
But do not deny,
stop with your outcries
I'm just saying my goodbyes.
But I will be back
and with a smack
you'll never know what hit you
cause I'm gonna be so brand new.
Watch me achieve all I've dreamed
all that you have blasphemed.
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 4:35 PM UTC
Why do I miss you so much?
Its as if now I truly feel
How I should have felt months ago
Waking up, this is finally real
I liked many before you
But the feelings came and passed
What I feel for you is something special
The love and lust, embedded in my heart
I tried to show you how I feel
But naively you had no clue
What I was trying to tell you was
I'm willing to do anything just for you
Eventually I gave up
You never got the hint
I settled for us just being friends
Better than nothing
But soon that friendship crumbled and died
Along with my hopes of us
I thought I'd move on, move away
Never think again of your lust
A few days ago I finally saw
That without you I have no rest
You are amazing, the best there is
I won't settle for anything less
I will attempt to rekindle our spark
Our flame together burnt so bright
I want you again, but this time I know
That one day you'll become my wife
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 11:07 AM UTC
as o'ergrown with lust
my childish spirit yet
has been naively quick to trust
and slow to feel regret...
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 1:49 PM UTC
She comes in nuzzling,
full of salt, full of froth;
lingers, indulging in sun
Slowly then goes, taking some tender earth
making it pure.
She nudges again,
this time with a shell,
pouring its secrets, a hum and some cries.
I hold it naively, by my ear
it soothes and smothers, her perpetual low rumble.
She comes in nuzzling,
and parts again
Our oft affair remains...
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
You made a visit
For a tidbit
That couldn't be called a date
And your portion was low rate
Like the unkempt hair above your lip
What the **** was that ****
Inside is your invasive tongue's home
This is my mouth get your own
They're all connected to your stupid brain
That doesn't entertain
All this to say it didn't go well
And I'm searching for a way to tell
I'm so desperate for love
It seems absurd that I'm rejecting anyone
But that's the odd situation I find myself in
While searching for light and yours is dim
I have to deal with the frustrations
Of both of our expectations
And regret my instigation
While experiencing deflation
From a needless iteration
I say there's no spark
You call me a shark
You call me a farce
You keep calling of course
Calling from your high horse
I call the police to enforce
A restraining order
By explaining sort of
Our brief exhausted history
How you weren't a fit for me
They heard my story
Then gave you glory
For being rejected
You're viewed sympathetic
While I'm stuck in jail
For my ******* fail
I said I'd give it a shot
You thought I was caught
This is why I had fought
The ideas you brought
For a love you sought
I hope a lesson was taught
But I suspect that it's not
You just hate me instead
You didn't hate me in bed
But now that it's done
And we've had our fun
You resent me for not being your possession
I tried to let you know that wasn't my intention
So now I resent you for not learning your lesson
We go our separate ways
Both living in a hectic craze
I begin to naively call my loneliness freedom
After I convince myself that I don't need them
So to avoid a future locking latch
I start to say no strings attached
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 4:36 PM UTC