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(gulp)

Couldn’t resist a minute more.

Relapse.

I again…

After six months sober...

Here.

In this pain I know all too well.

Ten years lost to this drug my veins ache for.

First breath in the morning and last thought at night, all consumed by it.

Every cell in me craves it.

That physical euphoria my body portraits.

Feels like someone has poured pure joy into every single muscle and fiber of my being.

It makes me feel so content

Every single bit of me is singing and buzzing with life and love.

It's like the ecstasy of *******— that first blissful, pleasurable pulsation of endorphins and serotonin.

This is what I feel when I first take LOVE.

And then...

And then, the honeymoon stage is over.

Fights erupt.

Never-ending debates.

Miscommunications.

Misperceptions.

No trust.

Accusations.

Lies.

“I’m done...”



Again, it feels like a part of my soul is leaving my body.

Again, sitting here numb.

A toxic love...

I’m addicted to,

And there’s no way around it.

It’s already deep intertwined with my veins.

Yet, no matter the toxic, tragic event that happened before, I sit here, and I want nothing more than to spend my life next to this soul.

To see his eyes unchanged as the skin around it wrinkles and grows old is what my heart will always desire— to stare at those eyes for the rest of eternity.

Dead air…


















So here I’ll wait, until you decided to come into my life again and repeat this déjà vu.
PEARL SMOKE Jun 2018
Scared Prt 1.
2014
iM Scared Of Losing What
iHave Left.
iM Scared Of Seeing What
iHave Left Go Away.
iM Scared Of Disappointing
My Loved Ones Again.
iM Scared Of Being Reminded
What the reality of Drugs.                        can do once again.
iM Scared iF iM Sober Then Fall
iWont Ever Change again
iM Scared The Drugs Can
Take over me Like it Has before
Once more.
Scared Of Feeling Numb And Live The Whole Drug Addiction Cycle all over.

Scared prt 2.

I Relapsed & Now I'm worried.
Will I Go back to my old ways?
As much as I desire The Feeling of escaping my reality,
I can't live Like that. I don't want to be a drug addict all over again.
The Feeling Is pleasant . The Living of being 1 Is Horrific.

Scared prt 3
2017
I’m scared
Of never finding hope
To believe my life has no worth
To never finding a light
To get lost in the
Darkness of my depression.
Im Scared
To never feel true happiness
To believe I have
No purpose in life.
To see I really don’t matter ..
I’m scared to prove
Myself right.
To really never start a life.
I’m scared to
Then lose my self again
To lonely nights with toxic touches

Scared prt 4

Be aware
I’m not scared like I used to be.
To lose  you, see you walk out.
Watch you leave & end us.
I have drugs.
To replace you,
Forget who you were
Erases our memories & best times.
Be aware
If you do me *****, I don’t care.
Drugs will always be there .
Il depend to forever not feel..
If you leave me, I won’t cry.
I have lines to get me past times.
So please know , I’m not scared.
To be left ,

Scared prt 5
2018

I’m Trapped.
I’m not ok , I’m not safe.
The habits creeping up.
Slowly but rapidly.
I believe I got it together.
I tell myself I got it under control.
But do I really?
Relapsing after 2yrs is making an impact.
I’ve been falling frequently.
For a short time but I’m still using .
It will take ahold of me unexpectedly.
Slowly convince me this Drug life’s worth risking .
I need help .
I look fine.
I haven’t used severely but my minds hyped.
Il Get To that level.
If I don’t reach out in time.
My thoughts are converting slow
I can feel the careless emotions growing.
That’s why I’ve found it so easy to use and get away with it.
“Just today” “it’s only alittle” “I can handle this”
That’s until I build up my tolerance.
Lord Help me .. you know il cause heartbreaks if I turn back to what I Once was..

Scared

I’m so scared.
To get played again .
To get lied and betrayed.
I’m scared of my reaction.
I know il die alive.
I won’t even have the strength to ****** you.
I’d be so broken and just let the world walk all over me.
If you Do me *****
I’d lose it completely.
You’d prove all my doubts correct.
Assumptions I already knew were true in my head.
If you play me, Id lose my head.
Literally, go insane due to confusion & hate.
If you hurt me.
Drugs is what I’m going to be out searching.
Not even ask for an explanation.
I’d be too focused walking straight ahead to my connects house.
If you do me shady.
I Will Be angry at the world.
Scream to the top of my lungs
“WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS
I would drown myself in drugs.
I’d hate the world completely for hurting me when I’ve done none wrong.
I’d go So crazy.
How can I So Loyal Be Played With.
Etcetc can’t even write more

Scared prt 6

2018
Im not scared
Anymore .
I don’t know what to feel
Anymore.
I think I’m worried,
I just don’t feel it
Anymore.
My thoughts try to
Tell me something’s wrong.
I Can’t think of anything..
I’m unsure If I’m ok.
I don’t know if I’m
Even thinking straight.
I remember once feeling
So afraid.
I had to seek help on my own .
For the sake of my sanity.
My heart felt a heavy
Storm coming.
It rushed me to look out
Find shelter .
With strong material .
I started moving .
But did I act fast enough ?
Did I act before or after
Time had already passed..

Scared prt 7.
I’m scared
To Relapse & Stay Stuck
To give up recovery
I’m scared to
Look at you and walk away forever.
To just not care wether you believed I truly loved you.
I’m scared
For my love to be trapped
For all My strength to be gone
Lose it all ,
I’m crying.
Addiction will forever live in me
Wether Active or Overcomed
This drug will Always come
Aslong as I’m Happy , Positive
I won’t want to take a hit
But Even if nothing’s going on
My body & mind will randomly itch.
Ive been walking with this for too long to just erase it .
To forget I had a habit .


Scared prt 8
Jan 2018
Im not scared
Anymore .
I don’t know what to feel
Anymore.
I think I’m worried,
I just don’t feel it
Anymore.
My thoughts try to
Tell me something’s wrong.
I Can’t think of anything..
I’m unsure If I’m ok.
I don’t know if I’m
Even thinking straight.
I remember once feeling
So afraid.
I had to seek help on my own .
For the sake of my sanity.
My heart felt a heavy
Storm coming.
It rushed me to look out
Find shelter .
With strong material .
I started moving .
But did I act fast enough ?
Did I act before or after
Time had already passed..

Scared Part 9
Am I Fine.
Will I not rack a line.
Never touch a Rock in my life.

Am I Good.
Will I not Use again .
Will temptations not be seen as threats ?
Can I handle.
My urges to not Tweak again.
Will my triggers Be nothing to worry about?

Will I never feel tempted.
Have I finally over come every Obstacle of addiction?

I’m sorry.
I’ve worsen , I’m stuck once again.
This time it will be harder .
I’m a recovering addict
Stuck in a constant relapse Cycle.
What must I do
Should I sit & wait
On my next down fall ..

SCARED PRT 10

March 2018
I Didn’t notice.
Like always
I believed I had it all under control.
Everything was ok.
Everything seemed fine.
I felt normal,
I would stop soon.

I was Wrong ..
I Fell Down So quick.
I went hard.
No dubs or teeners.
I went straight to a Ball.
I just went all out.


I lost myself again.
I Lost control of the substance.
I Was trapped.
It became a problem.
One I wasn’t aware of.
I Had no recognition of at all.
I Didn’t see that I couldn’t stop.
I kept going
Kept using without seeing the frequency.
The days spent stuck.
I lost touch with reality.
This previous Relapse
Has been the worst in my life .
I haven’t had a binge like this time since 2015.
I used every day .
For 6 1/2 Weeks.
I lost track of the days & time.
I Sniffed & Smoked 2 8 ***** all to my self.

At the time I didn’t see how crazy that was.
Those weeks, an 8 didn’t surprise me.
The amount didn’t shock or Worry me.

I was fine , I had control.
I was doing ok , everything seemed & felt normal.
It was just a small relapse.


I was wrong
I lost touch with reality.
I formed a habit .
I was addicted again .

The sad part is
I’m able to acknowledge this Only through writing.
In real life , my denial mind
I’m able to handle my addiction. I’m ok & Dont have a problem.


It angers me.
Since my 1st Relapse
In August.
I’ve Fallen Very often.
It saddens me.
How I quickly Skipped
The Weight.
Why does it worry me?
My mind will no longer seek a Dub when I’m triggered to use.
It will want Another ball.

Anything less
My Addictive mind
no longer craves.
It now settles for Big.
This relapse has changed the game for my addict ways.
I’ve Relapsed every month
Since August.
I Had it all under control.
I Was able to use and stop.
Just this last time
I completely lost it.

Scared prt 11

I’m scared .
To lose my strength.
Have no durability.
To Give in So quick.
Be that weak
Where I don’t fear Tweak.
Find it easy
To just go seek.

I’m Worried
To reach that level .
Just Relapse constantly .
not care who Knows.
My problems
Have me overwhelmed.
Every day
The Stress grows .
I can’t bare another
Tug & Pull.
Stages and Ages Dec 2014
Like a drug addict
I've gone to rehab and rehab and rehab.
I've relapsed and relapsed and relapsed.
Like a drug addict
I've learned to survive
Without those chemicals mixing signals in my brain.
I've learned that I can get by
Without the nicotine, the alcohol, the ****, the *******.
I can get by
Without the little spike of adrenaline
I feel when I'm in the same room as them.

Like a drug addict,
I've learned to survive
When you are not in the room
I've learned to get by
without the spike of adrenaline
I feel when you get close enough to touch me

Like a drug addict
I went through withdrawals
Because the doctors say a psychological addiction
Is worse than a physical addiction.

Like a drug addict
My only name is anonymous
Unless it is accompanied by you.
I spend too much time comparing people to drugs
Because I never noticed how addictive someone's presence could be

"They told us about the drugs
that came from little white baggies
But they never told us about the ones
that came with green eyes and a smile"
PEARL SMOKE Nov 2014
I know I have relapsed many times after I got out.
But What if, I end up slipping just once again?
Will iT Be it? Will you Get Up
And Pack Your ****?
Or Will You Still Be Standing
Next to me
and help me get up and continue moving me forward.
Or Will You Just Give Up
And Let Me Go Deep further in my struggle.
What if I used, And Admitted it
Will You Look Angry
and say *******.
Or look disappointed
and say it's okay I still got you.
If I Used and told you
when I should have let you known before
Will You throw me to the curb
Or try to understand its not that easy to just stop myself with
Having impulsive behavior.
What would you do
if I walked up to you being honest about relapse.
Would you forget me
and Mark me absent.
Or Would You Forgive me
and give credit for not keeping it from you.
If I Told You I Got So Tempted ,
My Mind Just Couldn't take ****
and I felt urged
so I smoked.
Would You Look at me straight saying sorry I did as Much as I could take and disappear.
Or Would you stay
and help me figure out solutions to resolve my urge feel to using?
Kay P May 2014
When I’m sad I crave french fries

They taste like happiness is supposed to feel
like grease dripping from your lips as you sit back and enjoy yourself
like indulging a craving that everyone says will only make you fat and unattractive
and this
feels like a goodbye

French fries don’t ask you to talk about your feelings and
French fries don’t tell you ‘no’ when you reach for them
French fries only comfort and tell you that it’ll all be okay
because spending a few bucks on McDonalds is always better than taking a razor to your skin
the threat of gaining a few extra pounds is nothing when you think that I could be running toward a precipice with no hope of stopping
No desire to pause in my motion until I am airbourne
because Moriarty said that falling is just like flying
until you stop

French fries are always warm

They cool over time but by then they are making their way through a system made only to squeeze what nutrition can be found there
They don’t keep me up at night with cravings for more
because when I eat French Fries I’m only trying to sit here and live in this moment
because French Fries don’t tell me what I don’t want to hear and
French Fries don’t pull things like me like a string around a loose tooth and
French fries don’t slam the door

When I’m angry they taste like tears

I haven’t cried more than two tears since the day my heart up and left me
I’ve tried to tell everyone that being unable to cry doesn’t mean I can’t feel anything
except when it does
and maybe that just means that I am hollow and dry on the inside as well, maybe it means the soul I thought was old as my great grandmother’s is simply an empty space
But I don’t want to believe my being is half of something else
to be filled by someone who can leave any other day
I don’t want
to be desperate
but the grit of salt on my fingers feels a lot like missing you
so I lick it off
because they say that salt purifies and I haven’t felt clean since this time last year when you
got drunk and told me that you loved me

So I’m sorry if I can’t get to you through all the french fries
I’m sorry that I can’t reach far enough to grasp at straws and I’m
sorry that eating fast food is the only way I can find release and
I’m sorry that sometimes I think that maybe it’s for the better, you know?
because all this is just ridiculous and
we were supposed to get married and
I knew it was stupid to think so at the time because everyone says that high school can’t last forever and I’m
a senior

I’m sorry that I made you happy

because happiness is the only thing more devious than the male mind and
I told you that I would gladly let you move in if your parents disowned you and
I told you that I was thinking about you through spoken word poems I never got around to writing and
I told you to bring a blanket to that roof you watch the stars on to get away from your demons and
I told you that it didn’t matter to me if you relapsed
and
still you act like I’ve never said a word

but French Fries fill me from toe to crown and I
know now
that the taste of them fills me better than bitterness ever had and
that finding release in fattening strips of potato is better than
wishing I was dead every moment and

I’m sorry that I can’t do this anymore

So everytime I go to McDonalds and order one, two, three orders of large fries
know I always order one for Chelsea,
but I eat the other two for you
because to me they taste like Burger King
and an order of French Fries
May 1st, 2014
(Spoken)
Kimberly Rose Jan 2015
The day you left me
I lost my mind in a bottle of Svedka,
And found the old me
Hiding in a blade.
Nicholas Morin Mar 2015
I relapsed last night
As the knife met my skin
and introduced itself
Over and over again.

I'm disappointed with myself
I shouldn't harm my skin
I'm losing every battle
Because I refuse to win.

- N. Morin
always anxious Apr 2015
last year
i promised myself that i would never be sad anymore.
but boy did i break that promise
i sunk back into anorexia
i relapsed to selfharm
i became suicidal
but once again i promised myself to be happy.
but everytime relapses came faster
and they were a lot stronger
last week i made the same promise.
and here i am in my bed
writing the same suicide notes over and over again
happiness just isn't for me
Annie McLaughlin Jun 2017
I relapsed
it happened so fast
and now there's blood on my favorite hoodie
and I don't know why I'm so sad
I ******* relapsed
and my best friend hugged me silently because she saw the scars on my arm
she didn't say a word because she thinks it's not her place
but all I want to do is cry or scream in someone's face
and now I'm looking at my arm just before I fall asleep
and I keep thinking to myself

that looks really bad
that looks really bad
that looks really bad

it feels like no one understands me
I have nowhere to run
I've started pushing people out
I've started denying any fun
this is getting scary
how did this come on?
I relapsed, baby
really quick and really much
there's some blood drops on the floor
but if ever someone asks
I will say

Well, I don't know where it came from
but that looks really bad
that looks really bad
*that looks really bad
I'm hurting so ******* bad right now... Just a week ago I was fine... And now I have too many scars on my arm to count and I'm always sad and I don't know why. My mind is screaming for help but my tongue refuses to ask
Ty Aug 2013
When you relapse
You feel nothing but shame
Shame makes you want to hurt yourself
And nobody even knows when you feel this shame
You want someone to take you into their arms and hug you
You want to pour out all your feelings of hatred and disgust for yourself
But the thoughts in your mind mean absolutely nothing to them
And they won't hug you and listen to your words
You're just dealing with an addiction
Alone and full of self hate
And nobody knows
But you
****** day to say the least
Laiba Jul 2020
My heart is beating so fast
Fast like fast
Faster then fast
The  urge is to self harm
29/07/2020
Relapsed...
My heart beated fast
My mind acted fast
Officially relapsed after being clean for so many months and its all because i feel low I feel anxious I feel worthless
taylor kathleen Jul 2014
life can deliver unexpected news
the way you handle the outcome is something to choose.

hazel grace was young when she was dealt her fate
cancer consumed her thyroid then lungs, she deteriorated at a slow rate.

she never did give up, even when hearing her mother's sobbing whispers of believing she would die
hazel regained strength enough to attend activities in the literal heart of jesus with the ball-less, guitar guy.

then one day augustus waters appeared out of the blue
blind isaac's friend without a leg and a half smile hazel viewed.

he stared at this sickly teen with compassion and curiosity in his eyes
hazel stared back wondering why anyone would fall for a person that would soon die.

augustus pulled out a cigarette and placed it in between his teeth
a metaphor that could never **** him but brought comfort beneath.

after the lesson he immediately made plans to watch a movie
he drove like a maniac but hazel thought he was pretty groovy.

the time she shared with this new soul was overwhelmingly amazing
the cancer was soon forgotten and their mutual desires were blazing.

she revealed her one kept secret- an imperial affliction
her favorite book and his the price of dawn- max mayhem's adventures became her new addiction.

he loved her natalie portman style, oxygen tank phillip and witty charm
she loved how he never let his cancer make him feel alarmed.

he was on a roller-coaster that only went up, that was his daily quote
hazel felt intrigued by this optimistic note.

she slowly relapsed when water filled her lungs
telling her dream guy to leave this grenade while their love was still young.

after a youth-cancer meeting, isaac grabbed monica's ***** and repeated two syllables to this pretentous ****
and when hazel and augustus listened to "always"- he knew he could never let his new soulmate run.

monica ditched isaac when hearing he would lose his sight
augustus let his best friend break his existentially-fraught free throw trophies and throw eggs at her car with all his pain and might.

phone calls/texts quickly showed "okay" was hazel and augustus' term
this was a word that portrayed their love could always be reaffirmed.

a swing set in hazel's backyard soon brings her to tears
augustus helps her give it to a new family to use for many years.

they fell in love with the way you fall asleep, slowly then all at once
their love grew unbreakable in those shortly shared months.

although augustus knew the world was not a wish-granting factory
he had a plan that he believed hazel would think satisfactory

hazel's dying wish was used in disney, augustus ashamed but still kept his for the perfect time
to see author peter van houten was a dream for hazel and he made it come true- they would see him in amsterdam while still in their prime.

a night in amsterdam hazel will never forget: drinking star-infused champagne and eating decadent food with a boy who wore a suit for the dead
later they shared intimacy and hazel grace left a diagram for her love- augustus was no longer a ****** with one leg and he chuckled at what she said.

the next day they went to see the genius van houten and hazel dressed like ana trying to contain her emotions
turns out he was simply a rude drunk and after calling him "******-pants" they stormed out but the ****'s stewardess came with a kind notion.

she took them both to the house of anne frank
sharing a kiss words cannot describe, they left and gave thanks.

before leaving back to the states, hazel could tell augustus holds back
he finally states the cancer lit his body like a christmas tree and hazel's heart felt attacked.

back in indiana she cares for her dying lover
she finds him trying to buy cigs and infected from his disease, he was trying so hard to cover.

augustus knows he is going to die so he asks isaac and hazel to meet him in the literal heart of jesus, each with a eulogy
he wants to attend his own funeral, hearing isaac crack jokes and hazel thanking him for their little infinity was stated so beautifully.

a few weeks later augustus dies
no energy for living, hazel cannot remove the tears from her eyes.

she did not share her heart-felt letter at his funeral because she wanted their love to remain within each other's hearts
she dictated kind words then was greeted by van houten, finding out his daughter was ana and died from cancer, drinking eased the fact that they would always be apart.

isaac relinquished to hazel that augustus wrote to her before his time ended
van houten e-mailed his writing and her heart was truly mended.

reading his ideology that he liked his choices of who hurt him and he wondered if she did too
taking in this precious letter hazel whipered, "i do augustus, i do".
#tfios #poetry #summerbook #hazelgrace #augustuswaters #truelove
Makayla Jane Nov 2018
I haven't done it in a while,
But seeing the faded outline of my friends,
The scars that make me feel calm,
Made me want them back

I used to run my fingers along the cuts
As if I was reading braille to soothe my head;
Because I felt like those fresh wounds,
Were my only friends along with my blades

Those blades and the scars that accompanied them were something I could count on,
No matter how bad my day was I could cry all night
And sit in the bathroom mirror and talk to myself as I stared into my own eyes
Letting my blade dance across my skin,
Leaving a beautiful red trail;
The stinging sensation that came after that turned into the blissful pleasure,
That wonderful feeling I once loved was something I couldn't remember
Until today;

I wasn't even sad at the moment
It was just something my mind drove me to do out of sheer nostalgia
Because seeing the faded outlines of my scars
Counting each one replaying the night I created them
And remembering how close they were to me and that they were once my friends
Brought it all back;

So I threw a little self-harm depression party once again,
I created this little get together
And invited those old friends and demons of mine
Where my blade once again danced
And my scars then cried red;
Where I stared into my dark chocolate brown eyes
And let tears of my own claw their way out;
Where I smiled and laughed, talking to myself saying how much I missed the stinging pleasure
And relapsed again for the first time in a while

I thought about how what I was doing was something so wrong
And I told myself I was sadistic for laughing because I missed the sensation
But my god does it feel so right
I guess that's why so many people
Do all these things that slowly **** them;
Just as I do with self-harm...
I apologize for my actions.
Feel free to share revision ideas :)
Luis Valencia Jul 2018
Tonight I am scared
I hear voices
They dont like me

Tonight I think about all my insecurities  
The things I’ve done to be loved
The lengths I would go to feel wanted

Tonight I soak myself in hot water
Hoping to drown out the regrets I hold
Blinding myself from reality with steam

Tonight I pull the covers over my head flushing out the rays of light that are supposed to comfort me

Tonight I look at the moon
I wonder how many people are like me
Whoever is just know I’m sorry

Tonight I took one step forward
And a million steps back
I took my pills to sleep

Tonight I relapsed
Relapsed
PEARL SMOKE Sep 2017
I know Better Than To not Trust myself.
Temptations Have been So Strong Lately.
Arguments With My Bf Always Trigger me.
I Battled 2yrs Of Hard Urges. Even Once drunk My Bf Threw Money at my face saying to Go Get High Like the Addict I've been.
Last Week, I felt so weak.
I Gave In, I took The risk.
I Got High. I Got Away With it, no one suspected. It Felt Great.. Too great.
Other times I Relapsed i Instanly Went back to My Addict Form and Got sent away to treatment.
I promised Myself Just this once.
Knowingly knowing I Failed Other Times.
Well I'm On Day 4 Of No sleep, Day 5 of consuming Tweak..
I've Been Trying to Act Casual.
But I've been Avoiding Eye contact With everyone. I've been Isolating, afraid To get caught but all I'm doing his Giving hints that Someghings Wrong.
Anyways, I'm Scared & Worried.
When I'm Reaching The comedown I Fein To Use More. Today's The Day ive Ran out.
I'm a few Minutes To An Hour Away From Coming Off it. I Hope To hold Strong And Not Hit up My connect .
There is More negative Than happiness in my life. I hope to Reason And find something To hold on to and help me not fall .
Q Mar 2015
Oh, love, you are missing today
And, suddenly, everyone knows your name.
Oh, love, do you remember the way
You watched the seasons shift and change?

You're not here today, love
You'll visit and revisit
Yet you refuse to stay
And that's not enough, is it?

"Sweetheart, what have you done to us?"
We sang those words until we couldn't breathe
"Don't lie, I know we're fixing to die,"
And you were first to leave.

Beauty is subjective, but you were universal
Time is unreliable and age is routine
Life is objective and you were unimpressed
So what did you find so unsatisfactory?

"Hallelujah," you sang as you left
Hallelujah, hallelujah, rejoice for death
"Hallelujah," you said no "goodbye"'s
Just, "Hallelujah, hallelujah," until you died.

.

I heard there was a secret chord
And no one on Earth has heard it but you
We listen, watch, and wait for the answer
With our fingers crossed that it's the truth.

That David played to please the Lord
Though you never believed in him at all.
We are the David's playing until we can't
Then resuming at your call.

But you don't really care for music, do you?
In futile, in vain, our stupid efforts.
What song would you like to hear, dear king?
What will make you stay with us?

It goes like this: the minor fall, the major lift
It was set in stone from day one
We should have seen, should have known
That you would, so soon, be gone.

And the baffled King composing Hallelujah
Did you understand our words, our pleas?
Did you think of our cries before you left?
Oh my dearest, bemused, lost, little king.

Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...



The days passed by and you grew weary;
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
So you searched the world helplessly in vain
That life would mean something, anything, for you.

And then came Her, a breath of hope
You saw Her bathing on the roof
You crossed your fingers and prayed to the air
That She was the concrete, unfailing truth.

You followed her with your heart in hand;
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you.
You knelt by her feet and raised her up
The whole while singing, "Hallelujah."

She held you closer than you'd ever been then
She tied you to the kitchen chair.
And you were content, you were secure
You were so happy to be there.

She stripped you of titles and material things
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
She skinned you completely, down to your soul
And left you liberatingly bare.

She reached inside and wrenched the pain from you
And from your lips, she drew the, "Hallelujah."
You were so completely healed at that moment
How you relapsed, how you slipped away eludes her.

Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...

.
­
Oh, had I seen you slipping
I would've let you know that
Baby, I've been here before;
It's not the place for you to end at.

I would have stressed that you're better
Than this room soaked in the blood of thousands.
I've seen this room, I've walked this floor, you know
You'd be better off far away from it.

I would have explained that you were it.
I'd yet to see color, to live, to trust;
I used to live alone before I knew you-
Then you appeared and left me starstruck.

You were a light, you were a star
You were what I thought didn't exist before
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch
So I'll raise it in your absence; let it soar.

You were hope, dearest wayfarer
Though I know hope never lasts
And love is not a victory march
But I never thought it'd end so fast.

The message isn't an apology
It's not guilt or regret
It's a cold and it's a broken, "Hallelujah,"
That I've not managed to accept yet.

Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...

.
­
You said it once and I heard you clear
"I'm so tired," your eyes were closed
You didn't confide again, but oh,
There was a time when you let me know.

What's behind that small, secretive smile?
What is it you won't let show?
What are you feeling; are you okay?
What's really going on below?

All the things I never asked
For fear that questions would stab you through
I would've been a hiding place for your sorrow
But you never show that to me, do you?

I never knew what was on your mind
You never gave the slightest of clues.
I was more than prepared to give up
But remember when I moved in you?

I saw the pain, I saw the age
I finally felt as though I knew
We flew, I believe, we soared and flew
And the holy dove was moving too.

You were more than a light then
You were the cosmos, you were Earth's deus ex machina
We flew through time faster than we should have
And every breath we drew was, "Hallelujah."

Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...

.

May­be there's a god above
Who was looking down to see you
But if he didn't stop the you from leaving
Then what good can he do?

But all I've ever learned from love
Is that it hurts too much to chase
All I've ever learned from love
Was how to hate; all I' learned

Was how to shoot someone who outdrew you.
I bit at their heels like a rabid dog,
They didn't see the impossible thing you were
Until we reached the epilogue.

And it's not a cry that you hear at night,
That'll convince you to go.
It's not the passing of days and months
That snatched you from home.

It's not somebody who's seen the light
That coerced you away.
It's not the worst of your times
That convinced you not to stay.

It's a cold and it's a broken, "Hallelujah,"
That froze you to your bones.
And by the time heat had come
You were already gone.

Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Ha­llelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah.­..
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
Hallelujah...
To Him.
I'm trying to move on.
I've been writing this since October, I think this is the best version.
Rosie Wisniewski Dec 2013
I have so much love to give
What is this life
If I cannot share it with someone
What is this life
If all of this love I have
Is all wasted just on little old me.

In this life passion is the why
And you are the how
But who are you
And how can I life this life
Without you by my side?

I miss making dinner and the late night tickle fights
More than that I miss the intimacy
I miss the foot rubs after a day at work
I miss the way you're a dork
I miss loving someone.

I am meant to love
I meant to give it up
But then I relapsed and fell
It was then I realized that I'm miserable
Without this funny thing called "love".

Now society tells me to be a strong woman
But, who says I can't be strong
Along with someone
Be stronger together
Ordinary apart, extraordinary together
That is way I want
But, it is too much to ask.

So I'll have all of this love to give
And just wait for the next who is worth of it.
typhany Sep 2016
It looked like empty bottles strewn around my room and filling the dresser drawers... It looked like being kicked out of the best place I had ever lived, looking back, feeling the guilt in the pit of my stomach. It looked like the tears in your eyes... I saw shame in everyone's eyes like a reflection of my insides, torn up and beat to hell.

It sounded like the pain in your voice. It sounded like heart-wrenching sobs. It sounded like an 808 drum beating inside of my chest, far too fast. Like creaking sounds, and leaves crunching, the shuffle of the doorknob when I tried to break in. A car door opening, my fingers slipping in and out of bags... It sounded like desperation. Voices of reason I chose to ignore. My disease spoke louder.

It smelled like smoke and incense. It smelled like candles. It smelled like peach Ciroc. It smelled like cigars. It smelled like ramen noodles. It smelled like cigarettes. It smelled like puke and self-hate. It smelled like the scent of you on your t-shirt fading away.

It tasted like every bitter Xanax I shoved past my ******* teeth. It tasted like blood filling my mouth, and the ***** on the ground. Like ten thousand shots that were never enough for me to just put the ******* bottle down.

It felt like hands I never wanted to touch me. Like stomach pain, needle ******, full veins, and then numb, numb, numb. Felt like a broken heart and the bumps of the scars coating my skin. Felt like each punch and hit you ever laid on my head, my ribs, my legs... it felt like pain. It was pain... It was pain.
Vernarth sequence

Prophecy I -  “Eighth month of sailing in systemic plenitude”

“Since they will not hunt us down in all our Itheoi cycles…
nor in other lapses from where the fine eye could have sewn the buttonholes of the shroud, where there will be life and if there will be a short time without life...
dragged by you for a long time where the sun is melted over the word, staying stored and locked in your pocket to collect it blushing,
tomorrow's jump without a yesterday declining..., without a tomorrow in the heat of a bonfire...
lamb in bait handled being the portal of those who have been slapped inside their cheeks… who will not shorten the cycle that transcends all the oblong sepulchral vaults or who abound in the nonsense of sanitizing nights of ***** despot life having to measure themselves in your flourishing duel by Aiónius of the cleanest dew of its solid stroke and announced delineation of the new one that has been retraced again being more than a brief syllable created again fertile, in the biosphere mouth so as not to see you omnipresent mist, meditating not having you and that dares to meditate on your future that will have to be reserved for yourself by professing it when you are cold in front of you and insinuating if in living followed by letters to be flooded pondering like a paralyzed sleeping part that wants not to be covered with feigned warmth and that does not fit in all the parts of me being who wants to be consul of some shelter with all those who sleep also half dreaming in the company of the lost afternoon that never ends serving Saint John in Katapausis here, perhaps Aiónius del Ibico 1 as a magnificent and net unit that sees the luminous truth when we all come out of a prophecy alive even if it's dark ".

"What a reckless job of losing value,
I am already in Katapausis in the eighth month...,
I entered as the light opened with my hand turned into the light...
being already a katapausis meaning in Sabbatarianism.
Quasi-unit method exhibiting cohesion to the rest motif
With levers in my hands and intra-sabbatism in his dissertation...
of an exegetical and theological nature that has transpired soft insomniac light, We are a people who do not have to fear or air to deposit for a future warehouse above the Sycamore or birds that guard all the Gold above my hands on the Sycamore…”

"Stay in my house, if I don't come back it will be yours
stay at home, it will belong to everyone even in the apocalypse...
that more reckless will be silent as a work of losing value,
Katapausis is the threshold where my life enters and leaves at once,
stay at my house, if I don't come back it will be yours...
Open windows by meekly closing them to that confronted obverse to you...

He comes from a den relativized on reliefs in weathered beads...
they will be soluble mineral beings convened moving away from the most distant and closest to the least distant…, from waters of underground siphons… there we will all be floating… like vertebrate invertebrate animals”

Vernarth, after not entering the grotto not having found Saint John, goes outside where he goes on a campaign for three months before he can be received by God's law. Here he meets with Reader and his pelican, as well as Eurydice.


Prophecy II -  “Seventh, Inter-synergy energy”

“Three months I have waited in the middle of this mountain,
symmetrically arranging the steps to be taken, not going backward
prana of life walking in oceans of life walking…
us and them… how much must separate us to reach us?
what I have not tried to separate…, what I have not been able to achieve…

I think I died early in the worlds that haven't risen yet,
I think I was reborn late among dense curves that overwhelm us with straight lines
soul, principle, matter, and material distinctive ontology
Ghost god of parallelisms beings and activities in affinity...
starvation body of low energy ceasing creatures in embryo
incessant firstborn to infuse other confining souls
trails demons slip where my ashes hands are sore
wounded doctrines to engender and doctrines to ulcerate...

As the prophecy uses the sea carrying messages resolved from shore to shore
close to a Virtual why in the twilight your Faith that must be glandular… matter of soul and body exposed to predisposing theological and chemical, in pursuit of the corruptible whole in vice versa if he does not burst with atheistic impatience.”

Eurydice takes a zither and sings tempting stormy actions to Vernarth, Raeder and Petrobus put their souls in line in the first linear principle, Together with the matter of corporeal fire proceeding to the definition where all the parts are confirmed without distinction dancing next to them creating the greatest bond of faith in body and soul, thus spending the three months in a few words of light of the sated fire.

"In the eighth-month katapausis, eight times your permanent peace must rest in
cited state; once it is translated into Sabbathisms and it will be the same state… When everyone finishes their dance in the cave and enters believing they have the courage to enter eight times in connection with rest…, plus eight times in connection without rest.
In some verses, the urgency of the entrance will be accentuated. The main issue “is that history will be repeating itself exactly where the Israelites were at Kadesh-Barnea. A related term either synonymous with Kadesh or referring to one of two sites, is Kadesh (or Qadesh) Barnea. Various etymologies for Barnea have been proposed, including 'wilderness of travel' but none have produced a broad consensus. What is the consensus? will we stop believing or lean on the shores of a preacher rain of Jehovah or lean on the shores of a preacher sinful waterfall or lean on the shores of a preacher confessing rain or lean on the shores of a preacher wet wind inquisitor...? where ever the aromas of its faithful winds served will go sacred to everything named before and many before the confessing rainy…, waterfalls in favor of the temperamental inquisitor wind”.

Astheneiais”, in Greek is and will be a weakness, in Hebrews a moral connotation and will mean not only physical weakness but a conscious weakness and trembling in temptation. Our Lord also understands us in this weakness because he was tempted in every way as we are. Since he himself was tempted he knows from experience what it means for us to be tempted. He was not tempted in all the particulars of our life, for example, He was not tempted as a husband or father, owner or employer or soldier, because he was none of these things. But he was tempted in all three areas of human susceptibility: body, soul, and spirit.

Prophecy III -  “Sixth, Resilience…”

“They were on the perimeter trying to keep me together at his command,
I go every day for its pantry, food, groceries, bookstore supplies and ink, oils, and other essences for the environment in continuous handwritten obedience, I have to leave for Skalá where some residents are waiting for me who have ordered to bring materials from Gricos and Psili Ammos to project your home,
If this has been written like this, it is because my pleasure in walking has written it, in the company of the one, he has written for the one who walks next to me the god Ibicus!

They always asked me why to mention why I have to do this for them… I will tell you that I used to serve leaders who consolidate the Hellenic geography,
without them, everything would have been invaded by unled foreign hands… in that rest, I have to attend to the verse that precedes it...
which says that we have already entered where I already intend to argue the following…

Resilience and exhortation that from the beginning I have taken since it began... now I will abide by and present your messages in a very predominant note, I was Hoplite Commander of the Falange and Hetairoi, now a Christian who does not dispute living a life of obedience to those who are not and are not without his martyrs...
like those people to whom God swore they will not enter my rest
whose amen will be preached in the passive voice verse!

Remain as the verb indicates with the real facts, the word
independent of the present, independent of who and when…
Saint Gabriel my Abrahamic angel will give me white strength and frolicking lilies like baskets of hermaphroditic lilies procreating only-begotten forests at the altar.

Stand tall over the Abrahamic fire without knuckles or shields,
rethink your beloved woman and take a sudden step to heal your wounds there is so much grass to cut and so much poetry to chew...
up the mountain towards Skalá at night after drinking wine
Epitrapezios Inos setting fire with innocuous saffron atmosphere
lips of fire and bread, for a good offensive fight.
Greek fire naphtha, cinnabar, and anthracite.

Wake up united with the deep disorder
Grant the color that deserves to have your day as a constellation
with the image that rests on your angular and calloused hands.
stopping spaces of loss more than all the centuries that waited for the minimum incense to a good warrior, sweet wine for open bleeding wound not his… the thunder that hides baptisms in all hearts empty of blood...

“While Vernarth was praying in the oracle he felt a thunderous supra sound As if the gates of hell had opened...
As if millions of seconds of angels were to be dispersed from the sky
To reduce more seconds of silence to the thinnest pleading eardrum

A few days ago I saw a ghost that was chopping wood...
I couldn't realize that he was really Him...,
I also saw him cutting thousands of volumes from a library...
Also, not realizing it, I saw several, like more than eighty manuscripts..., of breaths that still did not prosper in the hands of San Marcos...

A gigantic door slam is felt again...!
again it was the angels that came
at the wrong time in his return..., but now in his repatriation
they climbed through and into the Garden of Eden.”

Vernarth, evicted from the habit of the unknown, was apprehended by his craftsmanship of him, he was still attentive to be received by San Juan. The longer he waited to be arranged for an audience, he did not postpone what his memory pointed out to be more than an experience plotting capacities in the face of his own limitations. From that moment on, a gigantic gate slam is felt again! the angels who went back one after another with their polished golden-white cloaks relapsed..., but now making the Garden of Eden their own,... being theirs in what was theirs, that they would be in the house of a wise gardener of Eden perhaps being the same Katapausis manger at once!

Raeder says: hugging him profusely! time has to fly like little angels, having them by your side as companions of the time that is leftover on their wings, giving it all to your enjoyment of living and feeling it lost in you without finding it. ! khaire mi Vernarth!, I have some karidopitas with nuts and yogurt accompanied by baklava with nuts in delicious syrup from Kalymnos. Petrobus jumped for joy and fluttered like a hummingbird to steal a few pieces! Eurydice and Vernarth did the same. That night they told militia stories while they ate the morsels, so they fell asleep as if it had been the first time they had fought such a great menu. Euridice assists in the same with his fresh clean face, creating an atmosphere of conciliation to renew the dream of a day that will dawn close to his waking up far from the criminals. Vernarth takes the staff from him from then on and divides books and manuscripts into two portions so that he has time to take steps to really feel that he can walk close to Saint John.

Prophecy IV -  "Fifth, Nature, Manuscripts and Jophiel"

“Zeus wakes up trembling, full of headaches saturated with Herbs for headaches Jophiel speaking this time with the Kabbalistic language of the Torah...with golden commoner super zone of the Organikon Sorousliston Papadikon….age-old music that supplies Zeus with protein albumin, to make him more human…Zeus accepts Jophiel by placing his head about the house of Jophiel; a divine island to throw cards…brings the second ray to the Sahasrara at the crown of your head, pacifying love that is the suspicious and risky loser of everything risk in the head especially when a feeling is born!

Zeus turns his head and Jophiel twists it to the opposite side
about the ruined zeros that he did not count from the plasma of his dependency, Zeus feared having albumin at risk of human transmutation... happy to be able to cry he imagines slipping into the middle of a lake and he sees that he falls on Hera's poultry harming none, Zeus pours brimstone from his mouth and milks inelegant prose from the scythe…

Trina flame whose son bears glorious her bearer,
thousands of lives being clumsy for the wisest destitute
being what in the present you were more than past trine
when you harbor from Hanael's Blue Sodalite quarry
the imperfect perfects when you listen to your
body how it beats, how it breathes... you realize that it is perfect
as is Jophiel and discerns repairing the wisdom in the decisive punt
where gum rosin myrrh and multi urban frankincense go
towards the soul plane architecture of the human plane.
Hardened Zeus overflows glazed sallow emulsion of war
coagulated exhausting guarantor of everything is well,
books of the silent world of nails that do not sound sheets,
Hanael in massive books divides sounding with her iris gel-colored nails encrypted library manuscript of a thousand years, the voluptuous organism of a thousand years…
flapping unpredictable millennia and wiry hands,
colossal capstans…, annihilated with a thousand years…
a silly propeller that spins like a sickle rolling over a certain holistic tabernacle of the small portion of the next day when Zeus awoke to the diaphanous threatening light with sunless cloud waistband…
His face is seen with frowns and he looks at his face as well
without seeing folds…but in front of the Aiónius.

The geranium appears in the representation of the natural whole kicking the Sickle, much more here lost of our spiritual being
Zeus Jophiel's hardened shoulder heats up only to lean on Him...
light on his shoulders fires on both of them…
how long it takes to save us perhaps twenty times what supports us even tired and much more unwrapped than the treachery of him alone and without being followed without knowing
nothing more than a thousand-year-old shell through which he would drain…perhaps a tortoise-like millennial angel walked up to the omega! joy preparing to give you live hopeful,
that if it would be timely to give you more life...
Here is Aiónius reordering the world together with Zefian…
He shares everything eternal of all your life that floats in the sea,
miserable mix space where capo dastro separates the end
where all the wheres cannonade the hoarse fire...
cement that joins brick wall and plenary adobes
love without nature that castrates your beautiful woman
that hides her face without mascara looking for it...
let's go outside says Vernarth..., we still have a few seconds in his solvent... sensible, full, and arc well-being...
as if you were floating in the air floating more
also needed me to teach you before your limits limit you,
and make you angry from the miserable sense,... Don't listen to me anymore...!!”

Vernarth puts his first three fingers on the capo dastro roosters crow with his skin vibrating beyond the sleep of Raeder and Petrobus. Reader wakes up and says…; My Vernarth I will make fire and heat water. Petrobus runs with his wings to look for sacred wood. Eurydice comments…, I will prepare the praiseworthy sacred breakfast.

When they were preparing to do all this, Jophiel and Hanael appeared to him, joining in the breakfast that would feed all the days and millennia of the world. Unleavened fruit, honey, and milk multiply above all, satiating hunger with satiated satisfaction.

Prophecy V – Fourth, Limbus Necropolis

“From so far away…, so far away that I listen to your sacrosanct cries…!
from the Koumeterium of Messolonghi…, rocking my elbows and hurting myself
moving in rare pleasant crypt upon crypts disconsolate stones
not so far away..., keys held in the eighth cemetery...
Who is to open the heavy door now...?
I come from Messolonghi 555 km in linear figures to Patmos...,
narrowing concave… doubtful in extension, passion princess cloud
He must welcome me benevolently in the night nymph consort...
Limbus N cloud, Cloud Cemetery lofty lofty hypogeum
soul of Limbo, before seeing the nut that girds the face in the graceful Grim Reaper resurrecting restless…, sinning… grail sacrament without Being or being…?
Necropolis Cloud, expectant mortuary technology...
amaze me if there is a byte for me...
narrow conscience, unseemly to amaze me?

Here the lost mist of the Nothofagus God phoneme-photon vanishes with divine mass light to build the Áullos Kósmos. The Sacrament of Limbus will provide spaces and assemblages of meters for thousands of areas of infamous wandering the Ouranos, approaching the Áullos Kósmos to host him and rescue the children of the meter that was missing in the numeral rule of the Megaron acroteria before going up to the Necropolis Cloud. Vernarth, mere body formalizing principle...
extinct delicate evocation of the shadow of Elpenor;
Achaean warrior of Ulysses grandiloquent who even has otitis
and verse where flu spreads influenza
heartbreak from far away reverberating in the elite of lexicons…
arriving equidistant ... the last one arrives threatening with his Kantabroi staying neither divided nor captured, taking refuge in outright failure twilight of megahertz, farce propaganda surrendered fear will not fall even after …

Vernarth falls from the Koumeterium Mesolonghi in the Necropolis cloud privileging his status, he falls from this gloomy digital platform with a high alcoholic degree! from the high heaven after drinking hours he came in the carriage that was from Zilos, with the passion of heaven depriving his understanding stunned on some branches of will of Ziziphus…, stunned on branches of mercy….

Vernarth in a contrite accident with Elpenor, his psyche flies to the realm of the dead, Hades was remaining prisoner in that world taking the form of a Homeric icon or shadow. Vernarth was asleep after his binge, and Elpenor asks him if he wanted to join him with some concoctions. He was with blurred vision, a headache, and still lying down. But in the passionate horror of his drunkenness, he gets up quickly, saying to Elpenor: For me, it was one less pain to drink after having fallen from such a distance without being able to request and have had the grace of my mother's lullaby. For this reason, I hug you! They went together to the Cloud Necropolis to continue in the Limbus trying to alternate their physical body to gaseous liquid. At that moment Eurídice hits her with a piece of wood on her legs so that she wakes up from the bite of that nightmare that overwhelmed her to finally be able to wake up. Raeder had gone with Petrobus to Skalá to seek inputs of gnosis and his own inspiration for accents before the welcome in Katapausis to come in the blink of an eye of San Juan, necessary redaction for licenses and to be admitted to his library.

Prophecy VI - “Third, Rethymnon City and State”

“Vernarth heard the sound of a bouzouki, spoke of a 40-day fast that Greece celebrates before Easter, at the Rethymnon carnival they come from all over Greece to attend as a family during the week with animations, evenings and concerts, dances…theatre, floats with Venetian art in the picturesque old town and modern city, in this ancient city …

Rethymnon Political Ellipsis

“Like territorial extension, past-future organized infamous scene…Vernarth imagines being with Etréstles in immediate predictions
with years and thousands…, clan hobbies, Rethymnon manuscript…
while he thus deliberated…, thus rejoicing in the immaculate extramural grotto thus being as if it were comparable to a Neolithic village; being together lost with eagerness to appear from political power... palaces, kings, pro-organized religions..., rancorous superlative temple, priestly-eucharistic, nationalized sovereign citizen... commanding Parliament of the Hellenic politai people
the competent anti-value entity of the substratum political state…
sedentary-agricultural or nomadic-livestock culture…, vertical Hoplite culture!”

In Thessaloniki street, he would meet his brother head-on...Imagining how he would be...? Well-dressed-shiny, he would be in a passing tavern usually naming himself tradition and terms of questionable validity rather than those of a retro-linguistic family, in the remarkable urban-city dialogue called seditious inns with networks of political territorial extension, reaching the colossal size of multinational ideals of a complex stratification, social meeting place, future ministries to whom to delegate?. They would arrive at the tavern in Rethymnon in Crete, they order coffee, biscuits, and Mosaikó chocolates. In an unexpected moment, he suddenly wakes up from this deep, hallucinating, and futuristic imagination! His brother appears immediately, not in Rethymnon but in Katapausis with the goddess Lepidoptera!

End Ellipsis Rethymnon

“At the moment his imagination breaks just when they were preparing to toast… Etréstles in this same interval appear in Katapausis Reader and Petrobus coming in a singular pilgrimage from Skalá…this is how the syllabic song of the arcane ***** is heard emitting from the grotto…, yellow lights and saffron…. Saint John and the Gospel celebrating the Eucharist…Vernarth would believe for the first time that the hermit would come, but No…!
his brother was to be in the intervening yellow-white light
in front of him nothing more than Etréstles visiting him”

Likewise, they would no longer be in Rethymnon,
but the carnival would already begin in the region of Patmos...
eating delicacies, and the Sousta towards the circle of the Sun in the hands…They have been two months with the sweetened Moon and the Sun posing its mass of light in her… soft palm next to her waiting for him in the proximity of a Hebrew silence

Estretles says Khaire Vernarth! from Piacenza who did not see your joyous lux! I can see now to the sound of yourself the stoic zither...
countenance light, the orbit of your eyes, pale asthenia without photon without light, expectorant suppuration of your sacred Lynothorax, Absent in front of the long and fatal transverse lapse!
Raeder makes a speech to Zeus Photon Child Lux
Fulminant spends time where it remains greater than the minimum...
Patmos is the time of the Messiah…, retrograde years…
polis Helennic city-states.

Culture-state… state time chorus in tune
Philosophical poetic-epic Olympian Aiónius global leader
Homeric poems..., Raeder I am..., a naughty Politai...
you Vernarth are Politai Hetairoi militia
candy wasted by me Raeder… sweetened in my memory
polytheistic, cultured and declined…
theocratic referendum or democratic right,
Exciting porridge of my Kourabiedes cookies
butter, icing sugar, flour, eggs from the icy cliff
vanilla or Mastica resin, ***, Ouzo, mastica liquor…
or other alcoholic beverages…, which bubble on the underside of Aiónius soaked in my mouth with water from petal buds
coated for you with sugar on the tip of my tongue…
reflective cops in a wonderful dialogue of a tasty recipe...
It's time for everyone else to snack too!!

In that second Raerder was choking on a Kourabiede biscuit,
but there was the guardian of the Petrobus who piloted the
throwing hieratic water on the inside of his mouth,
forcing him to take heart from the buttress of his speech
shooing thick crumbs from his skinny dialogue spitted...
Gerakis, ray, tabletop oak bull, scepter for those who rule with him and not...My Zeus friend I invite you to play marbles,
I invite you to tell us that we are friends...
we're both fine… only Space-separated us…?

Raeder runs towards Zeus' thunderbolt from his right hand.
he jumps up and takes it from her, in exchange for this she gives him his marbles...The entire earth tilts over the Aegean..., the earth's axis tilts eight degrees, altering the cerebrospinal fluid of the Hellenic geopolitical conception..., with Zeus poly infarcted over descending magnitudes of inter-politics, millennia and headless governments...

“Apokalypsis lightning restarted, emerged from a New World”
Prophecy VII -. “Second, Alikanto Aion, Quantum”
"Kalymnos, golden tetra steed Alikanto was grazing under the metallic moon...
transiting its quantum physics…, golden legs…, four golden domes
the super host being in Apoika Andros next to the villagers,
commemorating troupe and advent…, Heraklion next period
celebrant anniversary, progeny bearer of Kanti Cretense,
close cycles of the sacred fire, domestic environment, and private zeal...
funerary hidden cult… streets in the hieratic family dwelling
fertile women… totalized and lustful ****…
productive longevity and harvests…, family Apoika
next successor belligerence…, funerary plexus…
culty predecessor…, treatise and imprecation of law, theme and legible religion domestic scene, family civic servant ceremony

Goddess Hestia austere, head with eight sacred candles dressed
Olympus lacking without gods…, only Goddesses embargo!
Feminine Hestia Domestic Goddess, an emanation of the female oval to ovulating…Pritaneo, the central decree of the political harvests… foreign exchange grains to be minted monetary stock exchange of Athens… Pritaneo ford on the rise, ford on increase Aion... hesitant dart swoop into eternity,
Alikanto Perpetual Aion…Speaks with both hands
synchronized and tilted tongue…
stutters and swallows, in six paranasal sinuses
saturated with fiery saliva..., and an Internal voice saying say...
what makes sense to feel and what does not turn off...
sleeping waves in the poison of love igniting
intra-Vernarth love…, billing infected holy blood
methodical coupled time…, Gaugamela the bronze extremity,
of a lost leader…, won leader!

If I had to run to rewrite retro Adhoc poems and chosen trova,
With a shy Trojan verse, I would dare today if I kissed her in front of me… she!
she would jump from the hyperesthetic-Ouranos…, inhuman to the Aion world
aurora celestina, bleeds big and defiant today in your star
In herself Ella…, pestiferous condemnation sweetness and aura between her…she just be, she herself be supported be…, Oh… Goddess Hestia on your opposite leg unbraced arm, meadow and vein braid… assaulted by lost and thirsty love written everything if she tempts…, everything wields darkly if it took you to our Olympus… at night loving you whole..., emptying everything with no inappropriate hand singing don vine fissure and intimate company, may it be exterminated... passion outside with nailed stake..., iron embedding..., nails wounding...exhausted supra lips supra yours…, mid sand writing full to her…
tip of my Xiphos… blood made written with written maiden mythology,
letter sword Spatha…, cyclamen balm made whole if I had you!

“To the loves of the world I say…, cover your ears fungus of boredom, your torn ears squander ignoring more than sordid saying...my blood kills, my blood revives! I **** my blood and I **** everyone, with your blood scattered, ***** blood scattered…!
do not leave me alone until nightfall… I only ask for holy water,
emptied from your mouth goddess Hestia who flies tons over me...
I only ask for a spatha romantic blood sharp, ******, and scattered...
to write to the love wars that I have lost...
to the wars of love that I have won, slicing the jugular of the
treacherous and wicked emperor"

“… Alikantus, he remembered the Hoplite commander in Gaugamela, he remembered when he dodged arrows with his head so that they would not hit his body or his pectoral. From such a present moment falling by surrendering to the evocation of him. He goes down to a stream and confines himself to the vanity quagmire, continues on his path reaching a suspicious lagoon, drinks sacred water, drinking again manages to perceive the effigy of Vernarth in the mirror of Aion's Hydor... calling him from Patmos! Law reminded his master how he died for everyone in the world just as the world would not let him bring more than agonizing for him because there was no more space said Aionius ... "

Alikantus then clenched his jaws too hard, falling out all his molars, he asked the Gods in front of Hestia to restore them fifteen days before arriving at the Ekadashi in Patmos where his master, thus loving all the lives of the world, as well as the hidden cries behind the Dypilons hiding the power of God… or laugh at gagged iris flashes and mummified sighs with lives that subsist!

Vernarth from Patmos called to him so that his eyes looked invigorated like the swarms of green and gray vanadium fire, of mood in the predictive table and close prediction. AlIkantus bids farewell to Kalymnos spraying sorrel and hyper-odoriferous flowers of the Apoika in Kalymnos loving from above, very close, flying, loving everything so much that he forgot to fly. He sometimes fell hard but recovered retried as a baby steed in the womb of a mother new species to be born again in Apoika!


Prophecy VIII -  "First of Aionius, "Eleusis Prophecy of Hamor"
“Aiónius received news of Hamor's prophecy; cosmic orgiastic order
tyrannical snake victim throwing herself into her abyss and purpose..., banishment as an objective void to be decreed, even so ending the world from another world,
discontinuous terse march, slurred arpeggio, speech by Aiónius
there is no world left but if extermination…, undone threshold…, provoke in delicate chaos…!

As a child, I ran to the supreme world herding lions... I called them and they ran to me..., they came alone, some didn't...! Being young, one day Aionius went to the farm and counted the lions... Some came others No... Aionius..., in such a hamorio he was locking an earring from his ears, he hung them again, which happened the next day relaxed..., he saw a maiden who laughed hypnotized…, he sighed when she turned around saying with her poor gestures… Destroy it! The afflicted turned away not knowing what was coming… destroying the desolate world vilifying silky physiognomies, chipped and dandruff face slipping from yours being captive and arid…, tempts to flow libertarian imprint in foreign praxis, origin, and end,
me from the slime being born in my eighth life in nothingness ataxia…

The beloved Victim surrounded by snakes moved the stump of her arms
eaten away by the serpent that took refuge in thorns of forged steel...
she kept walking…, Aiónius pointed at her and kissed her gestures escaping frightened towards the valley in farewells... not fitting itself in valleys that were never anything she paraded with the current of her last word, the beloved again moved her arms following her in front of her the beast was on her, Aiónius buried from fleeing and coming… with fiery phenotype, abrupt vocabulary, says: “Strapping and interludes, after beings of impiety, the world of impiety, Hamor of the first wit… towards other refuges I will depart about a Yes devouring bare ring on it…”
escape curve that cuts the pelvis of my beloved
destructive be your curved world that before had to destroy me...
ultra pre-hellenic nymph Harpé passion spread on me…
Hailed libertarian praise, aristocratic vermilion accent, minority ruling? Overwhelming rigor expended, prophetic Hamor, prophetic expansive arsenal! It must come from all the supreme worlds with strokes and silhouettes conquering...true dream, confused hypothetical oscillate sweeping imploring and contracting popular decision, management and space of my Sickle…, sometimes uncontained… worse avenues in its radius and dark mourning badly wounded shadow! The vertex that finally launches opens the dawn and his Hamada flees... Leaving with the untidy serpent, about touching and causing rangers in the stuck earth.

Demeter and Persephone; based on Eleusis in ancient Greece
mystery myth of the abduction of Persephone daughter of Demeter…
by the king of the underworld of Hades, Abrahamanica's offspring
cabal, life in the descent, the search and the ascent…
Ascent of Indra lightning Vahana and lightning from her right eye,
Persephone to the reunion with her beloved daughter ascending.

Zodiac and mysteries involved, visions and sleight of hand
that of an afterlife, rain of seven trunks, long-lived Airavata
elephant, Eleusis jump psychedelic mystery, incision, and coherent rites, ceremonies and experiences of cold winters and life on earth
plants in gestation under the gift of Elitíaen and beings that
they are about to germinate and be born, beings in a chain of genes...
vegetable running on the earth, vegetable in March in its glory
September in the jaws of the purified phrase and inaccurate acropolis I…

Sacred obscenities, deadly tributes with the death penalty...,
wandering nights without clothes with obese and badly fragrant meats point and taco dances praising the harvest in honor of a dead Thracian bull, libating priestly vessels and bullfighting heads in a deliberately defined and improper triweekly ritual, revealed in Demeter and Persephone.

Only Hamor in his venerable pyx lies locked up knowing he is unable to open inside this lustful bewitching sparkles, the mystery of emancipated disenchantment that awakens from his slow consciousness without knowing how to go on passing in the sum of all happenings of Aiónius. ”

This is how he defined himself from the syncretism of Indra and the mystery of Eleusis, from Demeter and his daughter Persephone from the vile kidnapped underworld. Of the divine Goddess Elitia and the annual records of children born within a year in the germinating seed of the mystery of love that would begin with this prophecy with the initial "H" of the underworld exclaimed Hades and Greek heritage in this event. Vernarth and his companions listened to this prophecy, almost falling asleep, it seemed to them sweet pallor-bitter, love-heartbreak in the previous day before diagnosing having a presence in the hermitage of San Juan Apóstol for the superior company of a later day that was approaching as the greatest daring of all up in the mountains while disposing of Vernarth's Apologist obverse of Aiónius's.

Epilogue Prophecies - “Eleusis, Isadora Duncan to the Parthenon”

“Vernarth and Eurydice indulged in the jargon of agitated diasporas
of inhabitants fleeing the Rite of Eleusis, crossed hands and feet
They dueled on olive trunks with Theban thunder, vague Insurrection of the ancient world, and consonants of barbarian Pleiades,
acclaiming predilection of the Eremita San Juan to appear...
in a breath of peace resurfacing... but seeing that Vernarth was accompanied of Eurydice hid in front of them leaving only her aura near from the stream of a chrysalis!
In the dizzying succession of myths, good news reaches her sacred ears, waking up her trend and her high quarterly price outside the walls... being later received in the grotto of the hermitage in growing expectation and a link of longing that weaves to remind him of being a crusade piece.

The kidnapping of his reverie feared and timid frivolous crushing blizzard, he was walking surrounded by Falangists on horseback pointing at him and threatening him, scrutinizing in the distance loneliness of his past lives,
his regressive life, concerning key to origins of his illustrative Existence, stranded at this moment..., Vernarth makes a pact with himself to detach himself..., of his spirit, detach from their lives under a hypnotic and compelling law..., like a suspended index in the Sistine Chapel, homologous ship Ave Maria Messiah!

From Eleusis Vernarth vanished in aerial horse-dreaming,
he crossed through the pavilions with himself persevering some wake
riding his Alikantus ******* and standing with him to pillage the Empyrium niche Persephone's trace of herself and her ******* ******* them...
with devoted passion, milky way, and milky syrup chin howling...
Vanishing dancer, Athenian acropolis, Dionysian sanctuary of the acropolis… Stepdaughter-patron in the dance of Zeus and Themis lopsided frame of the season's wildness of all creation and defiance of Eleusis looking for her daughter and her children, priestesses safely taking off their corset and their pictures…
raging chastity, oligo blood, Itheoi music, outraged dance complaining, Possessed expressing being seductive but also a native *******... the underworld in darkness, free daughter, and iconoclastic Greek mythologist
inconvenient Victorian mania, a courtesan from Olympus, courtesan undressed! Isadora, Demeter, and Persephone… flooded with Aphrodite foam!

She “prayed songs with plexus and feet, plotting gardens around the world… full of baseboard feet where everything created in brief Apokálypsis was dying! By desolate Parthenons dancing in Muscovite ruins, maenades sweaty enclave and also throwing back his head as if possessed by ecstasy in her Bugatti and Leonidas…, enchanted by Aiónius! intoxicated and exorbitant with beautiful rosy placebo eyes... Hair with headbands vine petioles, her Nebris tight skin was wearing... in her hand's bunches of barberries to Dionysus with torches and live snakes a chaste crook naming Thirsus; rod topped with Kashmar branches wrapped in borders, vines and ivy, allusive link…, morbid ecosystem! covering her crotch in the Temple of her Kopanos dancing from the eternal fire cremated and in a romantic dimension remembering Byron's meritorious…
Hellenic passionate, and of Hölderlin poeticizing together with Aiónius.

Rudiment wound … ruinous on value exciting in those
of the imagined and creative in her perdition, Sicalipsis e impudicias
torn fire in the Metelmi and her ***** we are twisted,
epic worthy of greek tragedy dancing like waves of fire
in the forge in terrifying death of her children Deirdre and Patrick,
submerged and injured in the Seine in Paris in 1913, falling into the
water in the car that was traveling with her wet nurse… before…!
saying goodbye to them in urgent social commitments,
I Aiónius take you to the Empyrium.

What a dire tribulation in the prevailing misfortunes by not postponing it, retain the fate of whose children is quite a story with the kidnapping of theirs and merits of fulfilling commitments committed to solicitous artists... support, crestfallen inside a dresser or Bolshoi dancing statue, dancing empty with bare feet, frigid anemone, frigid Sea…

Arriving at the dawn of her last prophecy, Isadora Duncan accompanies her in full life beyond all limiting borders with the borders of her dance, the flat field of Eleusis receives her presumptuously associating in around for the dressings...
And left-handed dalliance self-indulging…, advanced barefoot to the Parthenon…!naked towards the world and the orb dug out of her before her undressed.

Reader and Petrobus jumped on this steep stone, emulating the meteorites that shone in the sky of Patmos such a party of nocturnal lights, such emery detached from a fleeting planet in the largest Hellenic scene saying: "Well-being to the Hellenic World all calm, dance and immunity to the firmament where Isidora rests in the Kantabroi of Aionius”
Prophecies of Aiónius
Evan Newsome Sep 2019
You had a great life ahead of you
Knew exactly what you were gonna do
But the higher you rose, the further you fall
Now you realize you've lost it all.
'Cause when you stuck that needle in your arm
You got caught up in an evil demon's charm.
Now the drug's the master of your mind
Ruining all that it shall find

The drugs are rotting out your brain
Driving you insane
Addiction's locked you down in chains
So the demon takes the reins
Demon's Charm ruling you
Demon's Charm ruining you
Demon's Charm killing you
Demon's Charm rotting out your brain.

You cower an quake with endless fright
Never again will you see the light
The high has worn off, you feel the pain
Hurry it up, shoot it up again

You crave the fix,
You're feeling sick,
You need it quick,
Your shoulders shake and quiver
When you finally get your fix
The pleasure makes you shiver

The drugs are rotting out your brain
Driving you insane.
Addiction's locked you down in chains
So the demon takes the reins
Demon's Charm ruling you
Demon's Charm ruining you
Demon's Charm killing you
Demon's Charm rotting out your brain.

You say you're gonna quit
But there's a war inside your head
Should you cave and take a hit
Or something else instead
You know you need to get clean soon
Or else you'll soon be dead

Now in rehab, darkness is all you see.
The dark white walls surrounding you.
Only during sleep your mind is free.
The withdrawal is killing you,
Only comfort is how good it will be
When your tired mind is free.

The drugs are rotting out your brain 
Driving you insane
Addiction's locked you down in chains
So the demon takes the reins
Demon's Charm ruling you
Demon's Charm ruining you
Demon's Charm killing you
Demon's Charm rotting out your brain.

It was going good.
You'd kicked the habit
Then you relapsed
And your life collapsed   

Your psyche snapped
And now you're trapped
In an endless cycle .

Swimming in misery
Darkness imprisons you
Pain and loathing all you see
While praying to god on bended knee
To let the pain and misery end.

The drugs are rotting out your brain
Driving you insane
Addiction's locked you down in chains
So the demon takes the reins
Demon's Charm ruling you
Demon's Charm ruining you
Demon's Charm killing you
Demon's Charm rotting out your brain.

Your sanity is shattered.
You're broken and battered
Lost everything that mattered
Curl up and stare at the sky
Kiss your old life goodbye
Curl up and wait to die
The drugs killed and ruined your life
You now stand on the edge of a knife
While the demon runs through your veins
A man battles drug abuse and loses.
Lyra Brown Dec 2012
this year*:

the one person i thought was my soulmate left my life without so much as one word

i fell out of love with the first girl i fell in love with

i was reunited with someone i hoped would be my new mother

i was repeatedly disappointed

i met the most amazing friend i only ever imagined having

i quit my job

i got a new job

i fell in love with a pathological liar

i went to my grandfather's funeral

i was lied to by the pathological liar (surprise!)

i was there for her when she went to detox

i was there for her when she relapsed

i had a rather epiphanic moment where i was brought to inexplicable sobs and repeated screams  on my knees saying "help me" in desperate hopes of being heard by some unknowable God

i quit the new job and got hired back at the old one

i lost trust in all humans, including myself

i moved in with my dad

i got to know the depths of fragility

i was manipulated and in turn, i manipulated

i had random panic attacks

i met Regina Spektor

i wrote poems

i wrote songs

i painted

i read books

i drank a lot of coffee

i smoked many cigarettes

i laughed less

i cried less

i felt less

i denied anti-depressants

i worked on letting go of unhealthy persons, including my mother

which lead to learning the repetitive lesson that overnight success does not exist

i booked a flight to Mississippi

i learned how to be alone without being lonely

i became even more infatuated with the moon

i wanted to die,

i'm still alive.

i made mistakes,

i learned from them.

this year has been a whirlwind, a teenage drama gone half right topped with a questionable ending

2013, here i come.
AmberLynne Aug 2014
I have this little pencil pouch
that I stuff scraps of paper in,
"happy memories,"
and when I'm feeling down
I'll reach in, swish them around,
and pull out a few
to remind me of better times.
They're all kinds of memories:
big, significant moments,
funny or sweet quotes,
little nothings I don't even remember
until I read them later.
Today one was, "I threw away
my last two blades 6.12.14"
Now, this one was pretty **** major.
I used to have cutting kits,
blades hidden everywhere,
and one always
     always
on my person,
just in case I needed it quick.
I remember my first cut
with scary clarity.
I was ten.
I'm twenty-six now.
Sixteen years I've been
haphazardly coping
in all the wrong ways.
More than half of my life
was consumed with the evolution
of my methods.
Maybe you can understand,
just a little bit,
how incredibly terrified
and yet empowered
I felt on 6.12.14
when I opened my palm
and watched those last two
faulty escapes fall into the trash.
Every day since has been a struggle,
but I haven't relapsed once.
I've thought about it,
dear lord have I thought about it,
but I've refrained,
forced to just rub the scars
running across my porcelain skin.
I feel like I've been battling
these hellish urges forever,
so when I opened that slip of paper
and read it, comprehended the date,
I wasn't proud at all.
6.12.14
I broke down, instant tears.
All this struggling I've been doing,
and it hasn't even been two months.
Not even two measly ******* months.
If this is what "staying clean"
from my ******-up addiction
feels like in just the first
month and a half,
I'm not going to make it.
8.2.14
Laiba Jul 2021
I cut a year ago
I cut a month ago
I cut 2 weeks ago
I cut 24 hours ago
I cut 24 minutes ago
Like all beautiful things, love came,
Showered sweet dreams from stars above,
One day, he left without my name
Leaving me like a mourning dove.

What are vows if they are relapsed?
That’s how this heart gently collapsed.
Glass broken into sore pieces,
Lived my days in poison kisses.
A Rispetto, an Italian form of poetry, is a complete poem of two rhyme quatrains with strict meter. The meter is usually iambic tetrameter with a rhyme scheme of abab ccdd. A Heroic Rispetto is written in Iambic pentameter, usually featuring the same rhyme scheme.
Makayla Jane Nov 2018
Earlier I relapsed
Cutting away my woes and letting my pain seep out;
But then I stopped,
Realizing how many promises I was breaking
And how many hearts I was shattering

I felt weak in my knees
Falling to the ground I cried
Ashamed and guilty
How could I do such a thing to those I love?

Panic set in,
I can't let anyone know
Because I don't want to go back to that hell
That cursed and wretched psychiatric hospital
That's more like a prison with schedules and timed everything;
Painted over windows and white walls that hold tallies of torturous days and child-like scribbles
That makes it more of a trigger than everything else

But soon enough I gathered myself;
I took a hot shower,
And stood in front of the mirror practicing my smile
While I planned what outfits to wear with foundation to hide what I've done

So now all is okay and fine,
And I'm alright;
At least,
I think so...
Feel free to share revision ideas :)
AJ Dec 2013
My day wasn't unsuccessful.
I got what done what I needed to get done.
I think the same song has been on repeat all afternoon.
Wine drunk, staring out the window.
And I mean really drunk.
And I certainly mean really staring.
It's so foggy here up on this hill.
All you can see is a blur.
The very bottom of the blur is orange,
But that is just because of the streetlights
That are out in the parking lot.
The rest of the blur is purple,
But an orange-y purple.
It kind of hurts your eyes to look at it.
But it is beautiful and sad,
And not sad like how your mother hits you
Or your cat gets cancer
Or you relapsed after four months.
It's sad like when you realize
You're 4/5ths through an amazing movie,
Or when you see a surprise military homecoming
Or you unpack in a new home.
My room mate won't be back
Until much later.
I don't mind.
I need some time
To get wine drunk and stair out the window.
And be sad.
But it's not quite as beautiful as the blur.
That's okay anyway.
I'm in love with my fiance.
And my best friend.
And my cat.
And my little sister.
And all my new dresses
That I ordered on cyber Monday.
I'll be doing just fine when they come in.
When I make it through the orange-y purple blur.
Pray for me.
Because my toes are cold,
And so are my arms, and my cheeks, and my chest.
But my eyes and my outspoken tongue are on fire.
Mark Twain asked this,
And now I want to know, too.
Why didn't anyone ever pray for Satan?
Hundreds of centuries have gone by,
And no one prayed for the man
Who could have used your kind words
The very very most?
WHY?
No one is praying for Satan,
Someone better pray for me.
Maybe one of your gods will take pity.
None of mine have.
But they say I'll be doing just fine when those dresses come in.
You know?
When I make it through the blur.
"I'm sipping on some sunshine
I'm gonna leave it for the morning in the afterlife
And she's drunk by the day time
I bet she feels it just the same, not anymore"
Sam Conrad Dec 2013
I once tried to get drunk off of hand sanitizer
On a bad night when I yelled at you
After you seemed to fall asleep
But I think it was the night you relapsed

How else would I know
How Purell tastes?
PEARL SMOKE Jan 2015
Im Losing Myself
In My Own Dark Thoughts.
Getting Caught Up in A Knot,
Then Twirling & Creating Bigger 1s
I Need Help, But im Now Alone
Don't have A Place To Turn
Without Being Judged Or Criticized
Reminded Of All My Wrongs
And Broken Promises.
Of My Dishonesty.
I Need Support, The Ones To
Speak Positively.
The Ones To Tell Me Im Only Human, everyone Makes mistakes.
That Everything will be alright.
I Relapsed
My Thoughts Got The best of me.
Yet i Confess
& Get Treated Harshly
Were in That, is Showing me a reason to Stay sober.
Getting Treated Like A Bad person
Making me feel all sorts of negative
Feelings, is Just going
To make me question?
Why Should i Be Sober.
Confessing Made Everything worse
Instead Of Support
I Get Thrown Everything i Have done incorrectly.
WickedHope Dec 2014
Maybe he lost my number
Maybe he forgot where I live
Maybe he's out on vacation
Maybe he's ******* with classes
Maybe he had a relative die
Maybe his brother relapsed
Maybe he's... still sleeping
Maybe he has amnesia
             that would explain how
             he could just forget everything
This looked cooler written in cursive.
I like my handwriting.
Abby Elbambo Jun 2015
To:
To you,
Know that I will never be your dream
That my hands are just a little too small, you can barely feel them holding on
That this obstinate heart will always refuse to follow your melody and will try to find its own place in this symphony
That never will your world slow down because these feet were never made to settle beyond a frame

I am like rain in excess; I am not a need to be sought after
I am puddles to be jumped over and over and over
I often find myself in buckets tilted over drains
Because I always spill into houses who never wanted my pains

To you,
Know first that our love was, is, and will never be a fairytale
That maybe our happy endings are found in two different books
And characters whose names are just not written here yet

We have learned how to dream with our eyes open
Believing in the possibility of de ja vu but situated in today
We have studied how to make excuses for our stubborn selves
To fake ink in these pages of the stories we have written out of daydreams
Out of wanting but knowing we could not keep just yet

To you,
Maybe our forever is just for now
or maybe for now is simply the start of our forever
One step at a time, we'll get there;
whether there is found with you a breathe away
or at a bus stop with one bidding farewell,
I can never tell
I can however pour out to you all I hope we would be
But we will only know what can be in the time it will be
So I'd rather keep it to myself

But know that you are never forgotten
There are tears reserved only for the memories of you
Places I could never quite stand on again because
My silhouette would always fail to fill the spaces like you’d always do
Words on repeat that never lost the sound of all pain I knew like “almost”:
We almost made it,
You almost stayed,
I almost held on,
We almost fell,
You almost relapsed,
I almost let you,
We almost forgot that our love is not all that we have
That our hearts are never always right
That our love does not define the word itself
Know that I never doubted your love
But there is a love that came before them all
Written in the prologue by the writer up above

To you,
Thank you for loving that I will never be your dream
That my hands are just a little too small, but you can better hold on
That this stubborn heart will always refuse to follow your melody and have added its own beat to your symphony
That never will your world slow down because these unsettling feet have drawn you out

I am like rain in excess; I am not a need to be sought after yet you chose me still
You say I am puddles to be jumped into again and again and again
I often find myself in buckets tilted over flower pots
Because I finally spilled into a house who knew the worth of this "excess"

To you,
Thank you for loving the rain.
For saving me in buckets and closing the drains
I will never really know why I love you lover
Because all these could never find reason of its own
But maybe this little girl simply took after her Father
Who loved beyond the uncertainty and visions of the other

Thank you for pulling me down from skies
For reminding me that my soles were always meant to kiss these grounds
That dreams aren’t always the best,
That one day I’ll thank God for handling the rest

So I throw away my worries and cast my cares aside
I need not fret about being saved because though no prince was sent, the King came down himself
I was never formed as a half in search to be completed
But created as a whole with the option to love beyond the convenience
And out of all these choices,
I chose you to love you

To you,
I’ll be okay.
I am slowly remembering to not seek warmth in the created but in the Creator
I have found the praises He has always filled my heart to store
And have learned to shout them again
My home is not in your arms but wherever roof my Father settles me down
His love is too vast to be swallowed by this ocean of tears
That I have stopped forcing myself to settle for dreams
This heart may be longing for the sun it always found in the rubbing of our two hearts,
But He? He filled it with the universe- with stars and galaxies, with some I have yet to know what

To you,
How do you end this poem? Find satisfaction that these lines will justify memories that will never die and memories that are yet to be?
I. Don’t. Know.
So then listen to the silence that will come in between my stepping back and the applause
Because maybe, hopefully, saying nothing will tell you everything this compilation of carefully collected words could never hold

Darling, this is for you. And maybe me too.
Pierre Ray Feb 2012
It was written in the beginning, a beginning before Britain, before folklore, gore and war. A beginning then, when the lords created, decorated and separated the night and also the bright, bright light. Therefore, a delight! In the beginning, creating the seven ways of days and the rays. The birth of earth, the black ravens, the havens and the heavens. A beginning of clean slates, dreams, schemes and themes!

As I blink and wink, badly and sadly I think… An ending, with fate or an ending with no ascending or commending date? Let’s debate and negotiate! A beginning, of Pharaohs, their arrows and the sparrows. An ending of sorrow? A beginning, borrowed from our hour’s tomorrow? An ending, I deem, that forever bends, defends, depends, pretends and never, ever seems to end. The heavens specialties and

hell’s cruelties. Governments and their restraints! Negative and positive lengths and strengths. A beginning and an ending; betrayed and strayed, long before many of us were to play or say. Stories of cities, glories and their pities! Starving nations and Haitians! Expensive vacations and relations! The elapsed and relapsed! Perhaps, the mishaps and disruption of our corruption’s eruption and ending

destruction? Hey! I say, let’s turn a page past the basked, the masked and vast. A fold past the cages that enrage-rage, wage and old age.
The detained delights, the petty fights and plights. Why can’t we each reunite? Unite forever! Drop and stop this harm and fight. Fly into the night, together with our almighty arms and mighty charms. Primarily, in the beginning or ending, let us not negatively but too positively and ultimately amend! Children, men and women, amen.
Alex Jan 2019
My love,

I fell in love with you when I was young.
I remember that you first came to me when I held a hunting knife in my hand,
In front of a 3 ½ by 4 foot mirror.
You found me in the blood that stained my arms.
You came to me, initially, in sets of three.
I was eleven when you came to me.

It was December, I remember, when people found out I loved you.
My cousin asked about the red marks you leave on my arms,
I yanked my sleeve up in fear and responded “It’s just the cat.”
I never wanted to admit I had fallen in love with the most terrifying thing I could imagine.

The kids at school found out about you around this time-
I’d left my hoodie at home, and I couldn’t wear a coat to classes.
Everyone saw your aftermath.
I am surprised the counselor did not call me in to talk about you.

My love,

You had my aunt so angry with me she started to abuse me,
I remember her screaming at me getting worse every time she found out I had relapsed-
How she got more irritable.
I know that in the beginning she meant well-
But eventually, she just started trying to permanently hospitalize me.

You made her believe I was a freak, darling.

My love,

You found me in more ways as the years went on,
You started to mess with my body image and force down my food intake,
And then you forced my teeth to find my leg in a hospital bathroom
because I couldn’t take you back to your roots
Those roots where I held a four inch blade in my hand in a tiny bathroom
In front of the widest bathroom mirror I had ever seen,
Next to a towel clad window-

You eventually made me bruise myself to the point where I had dark brown splotches over my thighs for two and a half weeks.

My love,
I have loved you for five years this coming October.
It’s odd, thinking we’ve been together this long.
I still remember, vaguely, what we looked like together that first time-
I still see your ghost on my arms.

It’s been a month since the last time I’ve talked to you fully,
I’m not counting the days you whisper in my ears and I pull at my hair, you see,
But I can still see the last time we talked.
It’s the pink little mark down the center of my wrist that reminds me we were ever lovers,
And I’m terrified I’m coming back to you worse than ever.

My love,

You scare me.
I mean it. You genuinely scare me,
Because you make me feel so much better for a few hours until I realize I have to get undressed in front of people,
Because I don’t just have a room to myself anymore.

I have been found out about loving you seven times this last year alone from adults.
But I got smarter than most people.
I hide them in better places,
Scar up my hip bones and hiss whenever I move the wrong way
Or have to peel my clothes from the little marks you leave.

My love,

I love you.
I hate what you do but I love you.
I love that you make me feel better for a few minutes,
But I hate when everything goes downhill five minutes later.

I love you.
I’m sorry.
I've published this on another poetry site, so if anyone sees this under the same username, then it's still me.
Sky May 2014
I relapsed again.
Six even gouges across my right thigh.

Their going to leave some nasty scars.
But I couldn't breathe the night I did it.
And they made me inhale evenly.

I can't escape them. They're my only friends at four in the morning when I'm collapsed in the shadows of my room.

I tell them all I'm better.
But I still think about taking every last bit of my Ritalin.
Or submerging my head under water.
Four whole minutes, I'd leave my face under.
Maybe fall from the top of my roof.
I'd make sure to free fall backwards this time.


I relapsed again. For the first time in four months.
*waste of space|waste of space|waste of space|space|space|waste

— The End —