"restraints" poems
He fell in love with a walking hurricane
Putting a face to heartache as a name
She had a war going on inside her brain
She never knew that he'd love her all the same
'Cause fractured pieces
Can still make art
And wine will never cure a mistake
But choker chains
Made out of self restraints
Were worn by this runaway train
She was a runaway train
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
I gaze into my crystal ball, discern amidst the haze
A world so far removed from that of now, it would amaze,
Where catapulting incidents collide like billiard *****
And sense defies belief as renaissance makes the calls.
Blueprints fresh from Internet supply the suitcase blast
Where the terrorist’s, simultaneously, ignite in cities cast
From Moscow to New York, Beijing to Berlin
Gay Paree to London town then way out east again,
Budapest, Jerusalem Calcutta burning all
And Tokyo is levelled in a ghastly nuclear pall.
Kneejerk reaction triggers contrails in the blue
Crisscrossing all the continents obliterating through
An overkill so vicious that in seconds it is past
And the living cling in horror, bearing witness… aghast.
Restraints are erased as the opportunists dash
Flotillas from the Spratleys sprint to occupy and cash
In on the minerals, oil and potential food supplies
Of uncontaminated nations found beneath Pacific skies.
Hindi, Jew and Muslim settle scores bereft with years
Of resentment accrued in a flood of blood and tears.
A sudden realisation of immensity of loss
Curtails the destruction in retrenchment across
The habitable outposts, the dearth of supply
And the daunting prospects of a nuclear winter sky.
Global collapse of all electronic gear
No power, no phones, and no cars now…for years.
Electromagnetic impulse put paid to all that
And the day is as dark as the cold night is black.
And here all we sit, in the here and the now
On the verge of catastrophes’ teetering tower,
With a fools pudgy finger just inches above
The nuclear button…and all that we love.
……You fear the insanity, sense the insane
Knowing that people like this are holding the reign?
Knowing that volatility strikes
Like the shot of a gun and the ****** of a knife.
I don’t have the answers to hand
But someone out there, knows how…and can.
The sands of time are running thin
URGENTLY needed a LEADER...to WIN!
M.
Planet Earth
6 March 2019
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 12:46 AM UTC
A ball player and a thief
Will likely be pregnant by age 16.
Lives in the ghetto and is poor,
Often identified as a *****
Runs fast and does drugs,
Hangs around with gangsters and thugs.
Has a gun or a friend with one.
Speaks in slang, must be part of a gang.
Mess with her, she'll pull a Sharkeisha on you.
If you were to picture a person of any race,
That fits the description that just took place.
A baller and **** hmm... what race matches that?
Yeah you're right, that person is probably black.
Is fast, does drugs, and speaks with slang?
Lemme guess, is he also in a gang?
A young mother who is also poor?
Bet she doesn't know who the dad is, what a *****
All these negative stereotypes associated with being black.
Its disheartening, sicking and its really sad.
And whats sadder is that if you are the opposite of all of that,
You are often told that you're not really black.
Does your skin colour change for going to Harvard?
Will it change for speaking like an English scholar?
Because I play hockey and not ball, does that make me white?
So what if I'm the type of person to run away from a fight?
You don't have to be irresponsible and rude to be considered black.
It's your ethnic background that determines that.
And to some people, all we are is the complexion of our face.
Light, dark, somewhere in the middle, to some, the bad of a few defines
our whole race.
Does running away from a cop, and being black give someone grounds to shoot?
Why is it that my skin color is what is most important to you?
Is asking a question when getting arrested for no visible reason really resisting arrest?
Does struggling to break free from restraints to catch my breath, give someone a reason to grab on tighter to strangle me to death?
The actions of a few don't define the actions of a whole group.
And this assumption that all black are thugs, thieves and liars has done clear damage to,
Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Trayvon Martin and so many more.
They didn't know it, but just by being black, they put their lives at risk when they stepped out their door.
Don't you think it's gotten too far when we have to prove Black Lives Matter, or when we the saying of a movement is Hands Up, Don't Shoot.
Should people have to be reminded that blacks are real people and that our lives matter too?
We are athletes and musicians.
Lawyers and physicians.
The leader of a nation.
An anchorman of a news station.
We don't all fit into that mold that is preset for us.
You can and should expect great things of us.
Because we don't have to be a **** or a baller to be considered black.
We define what type of black person we are, we determine that.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 2:04 PM UTC
Heavy-chested, I try to release emotions,
The moon shakes its head in dismay,
Seasons unwinding, heartache in slow-motion,
And in weather hides words I can't say.
In the thick sincere compliments
Concerns flail, attempt to get out,
Bang on barriers, will not budge,
'Life consumed, hopeless doubt.
Mind enveloped in fear,
Shackled by trusting nature,
Wings clipped, self-made prisoner,
I wonder if you sense restraints stir.
Certain only one choice allowed,
A crowd of disapproving eyes stare,
Maybe stars can take me far from this place,
They twinkle, dreams in night air.
Want to shine with a similar light,
Ugly areas stand in protest,
Hold back the glow, I seem dimmer,
Searching for a spot to rest.
Weakness planted in crevices,
Rosebushes bearing thorns blooming,
Learning to love myself even when no one else does,
I'm hard to be with, I am only human.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 12:23 PM UTC
You say your life is a fallacy
Let me guide you to what you need to see
That you are who you want to be
Not what comes out of society
Follow where your heart will aim
And take what it wants to claim
You will then realize that this reality
Does not make your life another fatality
You have to reach for dreams
no matter how endless it seems
to that when you cross that line
you will realize that you are fine
That this place is not too tough
It's you making it so rough
I think you just need to explore
into yourself a little more
Share yourself piece by piece
You will feel the restraints release
So that you can finally be alive
and into your life you can dive
Do not be afraid
because the road you must follow, your heart already laid.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 3:40 AM UTC
Electromagnetic Motion Ocean Of Pure Focal Emo-tion.
The Very Sound Of The Creators Verse And Rhythm In Loving Notion Pouring Through The Crystalline Endocrine Indoctrinated Shock Ra Of Shocking Unblocking Colorful Tones In Unmolested Focus And Definition.
To Flow Your Emo-tions Through Your Core And Manifest In Your Intended Notion All Without The Misidentified Horror Of The Wrongfully And Negatively Defined Emotions, One Finds That The Mere Act Of William Tell And That Apple Upon The Head Must Have Been One Hell Of An Interesting Interaction, Yet Instead Of The Reassuring Smiles And Calm Demeanor Of The Archer As They Lock Eyes, What Pray Tell You Think The Eyes Of The Archer Looked Like On That Very Frozen In Time Moment As He Released The Arrow To Guided Love Of Perfected Intent And Delivery Of Safe And Demanding Fortitude Of Action To Defeat All Possible Variable , As If To Need To Bend The Very Laws Of Nature If They Were To Cause An Number Of Odd And Unpredictable Events To Derail The Intent Of The Man Shooting The Apple Off The Head Of His Dear Child's Head, For Not A Bird May Pass Between, Not A Gust Of Wind Be Seen, Not An Earthquake Be Fabled To Accrue, Not A Single Action But The Undeterred Focus Of Absolute Might In Will, His Fee Will In Flight. What Might His Eyes Be Relaying In That Frozen Moment? Reassurance, Pity, Fear, Confidence, Or The Electric Fire Of Electromagnetic Motion Ocean Of Pure Focal Emo-tion To Get The **** Thing Done And Without Foolish ******** Reactions To The Real And True Focus Of Emotion, And Pray Tell, What If The Child Mistook This Look In A Moments Notice And Flinched Out Of Concern That The Father Was Angry With Him? Or Is It Best To Realize The Real Importance Of This Story As It Is The Trust In The Definitions Of Intended Focus And Not Of Simple Trust.? ,... Yes, Intended Focus Of Emotions Being Trusted As True And Not Negative In Nature, Dear Friend, Yes. So Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot, Let The Flow Of Emotion Be Free And Not Dictated By The Restraints Of Control And Be Seen And Used In Negative Ways, For These Are The Crimes Against All Mankind And The Bigger Part Of Why Spoken Word Is The Very Spell That Binds The Psyche, For The Focus Of Or The Lack Of Focus Of Emotions True Meaning And Purpose Is The Crime Against All Life Indeed. Live Free And Pilot This Love Ship Successfully By No Longer Defining Self By The Ways And Means That Have Caused Us To Fear Our Own Power To Move Mountains, And Kept Us All Mustard Seeds When We Are Truly Far More Than You Can Believe. Feel Free, Yes, By All Means Feel Free.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
I believe in you and must not try to tame you
I am learning that it is enough just to sit with and lie with
That it is enough just to listen to words being softly strung together
Rhythmic sounds conceived in mind, of heart and soul
Giving birth to desires and prayers
Lay your head on my lap my love
Loosen the restraints of the day
Unravel and find your rest in me
Drink deeply of my devotion
From the wellspring of my openness
I am in awe of your beauty and must not try to claim you
I am learning that it is enough to trust the nature of man and woman and allow
My fingers the freedom to travel, to dance, to trace and to follow
Your curves and caverns, seeking warmth, pulse of body and wilderness
Swallowing love's sweetness whole
Lay your head on my lap my love
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
Minimum wage at a sewing factory
the air thick with the smell of cheap dye
and the determination of making ends meet
raising three kids alone in a foreign country
where no one speaks your mother tongue
breaking down the wall of cultural restraints
so your daughter could pursue her dreams
giving her the freedom to soar
even if it meant caging yours
our favourite meals even after a long, hard day
the embracing aroma of spices as we enter the house
insisting you are not hungry
so we could have the last bite
falling asleep to the lullaby of your voice
reading through the crinkled pages of Urdu stories
your endless, fearless support as we grew up
if only we could see ourselves through your eyes
for what you have endured, words can’t express
your resilience, your courage, your love
-to the strongest woman I know
Mar 10, 2020
Mar 10, 2020 at 8:27 PM UTC
With strength and hope I embrace the facts of my existance
all restraints have been removed, no more holding back zero resistance
free to ascend to the higher levels that I have always strived
much sooner than I ever planned here I am, I have arrived
through the lies, misconceptions and conformity I have risen above it all
strong and confident moving forward I am walking tall
free to be who ever I want at any moment if I choose
making up the rules of life as I go, no way I can lose
so if you pass me in the street and I seem out of place
it's because that is where I want to be with a smirk on my face
not because I am better than anyone or better than you
it's that I have realized that I am free to do anything I have ever wanted to
Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 1:40 AM UTC
Someone once told me that love was blind.
Youth is wasted on the young,
We are all going to die.
After un-clutching scraps of what I'll never find,
This is all that I've brought.
I am all that is mine.
Don't ever, ever, little girl,
Listen to the old.
The world of those who
Raised them were as dark as
Devils compared to the
Funlit days we live.
To them, infatuation came
In work's way.
To them, romance was
Mind's comfort; the
Substance of fantasy.
In our world, your heart's
Every beat for another
Rings as true
To Love's ears as
Her own
To herself.
Yet the cloak hangs so heavily
Around all of these scenes.
Each notion a portrait,
Undistinguished and vague yet
Littered with details strewn in
Alarming
Array.
I take with rock salt
All that they've had to say.
For how does dim
Memory
To a feeling
Compare?
Let us forget to look back
And listen for
Wisdom.
Let us forget to ask
For opinions; vantage points.
All fingerprints blur
In time and fade forgotten
Into their surfaces; the
Grip they once formed
Long, long released.
Love, if only for a second.
Love, even if you know
That it's wrong.
No love ever was.
Love.
You'll have bigger
Regrets in time.
Only we know
What it means to be
Exactly this
Young
Today.
Only I
See through these keyholes
Carved upon my Face.
I am free from pre-conceived restraints.
I am a beacon
Of naïve wisdom,
A sponge for all feelings
Un-hardened by fate.
Suggestions
Directions
Instructions abound.
I am free from these shackles,
Boundless heartwaves
Resound
I see not your keyholes for the
Key in my eye. You are
Divine Feminine expressing Herself
Through yourself; as yourself.
Quill dipped in own wisdom.
Heart's blood and history.
Afloat in eternities of
Utter female
Warmth.
Someone once told you that love was blind.
That youth was wasted on the young.
I don't want to hear you
Sounding that old
Ever again. Notions.
Heartwaves. Manifestations.
Art saved. Inspirations.
Emotions.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
Children teach us more than growth
They teach us the pushing of boundaries,
The breaking of restraints.
A child screams and fights against a rule
Until it is changed.
We are taught that we can not change things
But we grew up through change
We are created by change
And we create using change
Change is in our nature,
In our souls and beings.
We will always push against those rules,
The ones we do not understand,
Scream and fight until we win,
And pull the change onto our bodies
Seeing if it’s the right fit.
Trying over and over again,
To see if where we moved is comfortable,
Always searching for the deeper waters,
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
the day is at its end
the towers and domes in the city
are a lonely sight...abandoned,
all closed.........all hushed up
the gnomes of the day are mostly gone...
beware...the gnomes of the night
have just woken and are now energized...
raring to prowl the dark halls and corridors
out to the unlit alleys, backstreets and corners
cloaked by towering shadows
all set to play havoc to unknowing passers-by...
in the dark where all restraints are set free
where unconquered demons
take center stage...
in the dark,
where the dead gets to live again...
in the dark, where anything goes, unnoticed...
in the shadows, where
the dark sky is the limit....
until the first shafts of light come in...
when once again, all secrets
seek refuge in their hiding places
---------the dark takes a rest---------
---------as a new day unfolds--------
Sally
Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
I want to struggle against your restraints.
I want you to lose control.
I want to lose control.
Force is not a ***** word.
I want you to
show
me
what
you're
made
of.
Jul 3, 2010
Jul 3, 2010 at 3:44 PM UTC
Twice the fool is the runaway
Who hides his trail, as he hides his ache
All bottle and pills, temporary sleep
Insomniac daze and cheap dinner meals
Static lies on a stationary screen
Radio chatter can’t feed the famine in me
The world is aflame
With no one awake
Sunrise slumber
I fall unconscious to the restless on midnight pavement
Breaking bones or breaking bottles
Selling skin or dealing dust to lost souls
Hearts tucked and folded from the cold
Future oblique
I dare you, predict my dreams
Late riser / never bloomer
Packs a bag, a change of clothes
To deadbeat joints, and dead end posts
Been as many years gone as daily cigarettes smoked
Bloodshot symmetry eyes
I see in every passerby
Like the whole city gone up and left their troubles behind,
You and I
We’re cerebral projections
Locked into motor whirs, recursive disintegration
Status acknowledged, clean cut
Black and white since day one
Mould breaker, you’re told you’re out of line
Gutter graves or veins, stay your place or fall behind
The only constant is the throne
You sit upon or come to view as your body’s own
The red light stare, blue flicker flares
Blare on your skin, like prisms, colour wear
Better to fade to grey than know yourself
For what you truly are, just a shade of catch and tell
Dire straits
No deviation
Full advance
Or desolation
Empty eyes
Golden restraints
I don’t want wealth
I just want change
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 8:51 PM UTC
Taste me with all of your senses
Inhale my essence......breathe me in deep.....
Darkness pressed against hunger..
Sliding my tongue, I drew it in like a feast
Savouring the taste as it passed my lips...
Shadows cast silken threads
Screaming desire!
Spinning silken webs around my body,
Searing my skin, as hot breath spilled itself
Against my salted flesh...
Moisture and heat fused,
Savage, pulsating, lingering, where wicked hovered
Sleek, against my heart’s beat...
Black satin shivered beneath wildfire hips;
Slow dancing a sweetened heat,
Writhing beneath the shimmer-gleam;
As I lay for him, lathed by the parched desert of his
Relentless tongue...wearing me wet....
I moaned across his taut flesh,
Strewn beneath the sliding wander of skin thrusts,
Drowning in a plum-dark eclipse of heat!
Where tenderness lay opened for him...
Teasing breaths rushed kisses between thighs
Quivering,
Wanting to break free, the restraints,
Stretching my body beneath his tasting..
I felt the essence beating ****** tempo's,
Passion succumbing to insatiable need;
And I gave him my body's silk-white,
Trembling under the furtive delirium of our fever...
The fierce moon eclipsed
A serum to slide my quickened breath;
And his eyes watched, deep in dark, unchanging depths,
As I lay naked in his arms....................
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC
I've seen the talented sun burn through the souls of a thousand talented men,
So I hide in the dark but it's only in hopes that I won't have to see it again.
And I've sat on deserted highways waiting for construction to finish up,
But never through all of this have I said that I've had enough.
Scissors can cut through a wired bomb or the last of the restraints,
But don't take them for granted or you'll end up on your deathbed with nothing to say.
When the story ended the story had no stable place to go,
So he sat on the curb with his head in his hands and decided to call that home.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
Fallen from grace,
No longer do I sit high upon the pedestal
That you had once put me
No longer am I seen as idol or mentor
Nor wanted as provider or protector
But now looked upon as an outcast
And banished from your heart
Betrayed by the one who now blinds you
With a veil of lies and deceit
That weighs on your young fragile heart
With heavy words of animosity and abhorrence
You have been trapped in a malevolent web
Of hatred and retribution
Used as an unwitting pawn
In a game of emotional chess
Your words of respect and adoration
Have been replaced by venomous accusations
Of brutality and oppression
Taught to you by the one
Who now holds the chains that bind your heart
But I will not be vanquished or deterred
By these attempts to falsify or dilute my love for you
I will be strong in my resolve and true to myself
I will not let these misguided asseverations
Destroy my confidence in knowing
That my spirit is pure and that one day
You will be able to break free from your restraints
And uncover your eyes
So you can distinguish the truth from the lies
Until that day comes I shall be waiting
Ready to stand next to you
As opposed to being on that pedestal
And walk down a new road with you
As your friend and equal
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC
One more day, one night less. Memories seem to fade along with the sands of time. Paper and pen run scarce as my thoughts flow through them, flushing away all thoughts not worth the ink. Cards flying, dices rolling, but the clock hands don’t seem to spin.
Standing inside these walls while my mind drifts outside. Like a crow, through the bars and over the walls I travel. I can go anywhere, but there is no place I rather fly to than a place my mind needs yet to know. From all the places I’ve been to, all the people known to me, my heart always takes me to the same person. But where do we meet? There are not enough shared memories to fill this void, so every night a new one is created. Every night I take her to visit my own favourite time and places, in the hope that one day I can actually show her the world and create our own memories. But will she go? Am I worthy of this blessing? One can only hope, so that turned into a routine.
Life as is, reduced to a bi-modal state, echoing over two desires. The one where I am freed from the restraints on this place and the one where I get restrained in her arms. The latter one, true freedom.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 12:01 AM UTC
Alice was a hippy girl
whimsical and free spirited
in dalliance with imagination.
Living in a trippy world
and a psychedelic dream.
Where life was fluffy and free
from the restraints of responsibility.
Her thoughts drifting
always questioning.
Far out man.
Always in her daydream bubble
partying for peace and love,
keeping her soul out of trouble.
In nonsense rhyme
and hallucinogenic vibe,
creating her own escape.
And all the while her rabbit
with an anxiety problem,
would tell her he was
going to be late.
She nibbled on cakes
that she laced,
with her boyfriend
and together they embraced
their Wonderland.
Grinning like Cheshire cats
hand in hand spiralling,
out of control
down rabbit holes.
Far out man.
Always in her daydream bubble
partying for peace and love,
keeping her soul out of trouble
in nonsense rhyme
and hallucinogenic vibe
creating her own escape
And all the while her rabbit
with an anxiety problem
would tell her he was
going to be late.
Spending their days in wonder
in unknown potions drunk
they would ponder
the meaning of life,
in playing cards talking
with ***** smoking
caterpillars and
mocking turtles on a beach.
Reality so far out of reach.
Far out man.
Always in her daydream bubble
partying for peace and love,
keeping her soul out of trouble
in nonsense rhyme
and hallucinogenic vibe
creating her own escape
And all the while her rabbit
with an anxiety problem
would tell her he was
going to be late.
Alice was a hippy girl
whimsical and free spirited.
Wishing for a different world,
escaping in kaleidoscopes.
Mind blowing and free.
The truth smashed down
her house of cards in responsibility,
and she had a date with reality
in actuality reality eventually
Growing up man.
Always in her daydream bubble
partying for peace and love,
keeping her soul out of trouble
in nonsense rhyme
and hallucinogenic vibe
creating her own escape
And all the while her rabbit
with an anxiety problem
would tell her he was
going to be late.
He was going to be late.
He was going to be late.
©Jacqui Slade
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
You wouldnt like me when I'm drunk
Or perhaps you'd like me too much
Push pins sting
As they slide into my skin
But after long enough
They go numb
Can hardly notice the blood anymore
Second
Third
Fourth skins are shed
Leaving a raw innocence in it's place
Uninhibited by restraints
Such as logic
Or forethought
Blinders on too tight
Choking out anything that would be
Scandalous in daylight
A deafening scream
That's part siren song
Vice grip fingers
Holding on for too long
The Devil's wife has come to dance
Please walk away
Or I promise we'll both hate me sober
Aug 12, 2021
Aug 12, 2021 at 3:27 PM UTC
Day One:
A voice speaks to me.
When you realize that being lost is so close to being found, you see a sea of family members plagued within the lineage of licentious newborns and hospital beds. You become yourself, a lisp.
Day Two:
Long ago in a city left unscorned he was torn, from the cokeheads and colorful regimes, angels sing long songs of separation anxiety and **** withdrawal. I was torn from the deadbeats of supposed society and three day vicodin trips into my mind. So can you let me know when I get there? ‘Cause I left there running…I wonder, did someone ever tell you that two strangers could twist around your neck at beck and that three parked cars and seventeen lonely nights could haunt you for the rest of your faces.
Day Three:
Tell me of your drug induced hallucinations.
Day Four:
Wait. Hear. Can’t you listen to the relapse? Stop, think. No. gone. Left. Love. Return. My curious addiction. Go back into yourself and listen. Can’t you hear your soul call to me? It’s loud.
Day Five:
I remember prizes at the bottoms of cereal boxes, right before the net broke. Will you be first? Snap back to reality.
It’s dark in here. Wretch from me… I am crying, screaming,
haha! I’m melting inside!
Day Six:
By plucking her petals you do not gather the beauty of the flower, but the seed inside
Caked over in grief, we are not plates that match. But fools of folly caught in a sea of coke and disillusioned discord. Speed stands between directing and orders to death’s soldiers.
Day Seven:
The difference between God and his counterpart is that he makes exceptions!
Except me.
Day Eight:
Accept me!
Please.
Wait.
No.
don’t slow,
speed.
I can only take so much forgiveness,
is a decision, and I cannot make it.
I am without it, leave me breathless.
Day Nine:
The angel of death waits
He comes for me, but I am running, finding, hiding my inner Nemo in the hands of oxycodon, privileged in the amenities of amphetamines.
I am tired of running!
Haggard.
Take away my hands, my restraints.
Let me feel
again.
Please.
Day Ten:
I am awake.
There is an apple in my field of vision.
Kiss it. Love it.
Take it to hedonism and back again.
But it knows too much.
So tell it everything will be ok.
It lives in epilepsy.
So placate it.
Resurrect my apocalypse.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
She bought herself flowers.
I wanted to cry.
She bought herself flowers.
I had to bite my tongue.
She bought herself flowers.
I had to remember that I can't.
She bought herself flowers.
I hoped he noticed.
She bought herself flowers.
I wished he would be inspired to change.
She bought herself flowers,
Looked at me,
And gave me a look that said that she knew
That they would be from me.
She bought herself flowers,
And my restraints fell away.
She bought herself flowers,
And I stopped wanting to play nice.
She bought herself flowers
Because she is dying inside.
She bought herself flowers
Because she cannot be mine.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 3:26 AM UTC
Just put your head down,
just keep moving forwards.
Ignore everything
except yourself.
Remember who you are.
Fight it.
The restraints are there,
like this is some sick game.
You beat yourself up,
you strap yourself down,
unable to move
Fight it.
That blank wall isn't very nice looking,
I don't know why you continue to stare.
I mean I do the same thing,
when I become...
Oh. I get it.
Fight it.
Eyes glazed over.
Lips sown shut.
Limbs tied down.
Mind locked up.
The dark is so inviting.
Fight it.
But I'm not too sure I want to leave.
Oh, how easy it would be,
to stay in these waters
and fall asleep.
Just stay asleep
Fight it.
Don't forget me anymore.
Such a sad plea that comes from me.
Myself where did you go?
Who are you anymore?
I'm losing my mind.
Fight it.
What is there to fight?
I'm drowning in the tidal waves
of my own emotions.
There isn't a clear enemy.
Who could it be?
...
Oh, I think I see.
The enemy is me.
Fight it.
But I can't.
Fight it.
I.
Fight it.
Can't.
Fight it.
Yes you can.
Fight it.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC
I was a solid man.
A solid man with broken pieces
Pieces astrewn on the dusty floor of life,
thrown away with my own guilty verdict
No glue or wires to hold me together,
just a small tangent of sanity and veins.
Structurally not sound,
my moral compass has taken the wrong course
A course of insurmountable ill wills,
wills that would make a grown man, cry and beg.
A beggar that I see before me,
seeing myself in the mirror of near death.
That death bounds to me,
like the leather restraints of a sadomasochist
No more control over thoughts or person,
fearing what lies ahead in waiting
I waited for life to come to me,
but only saw the emptiness.
My empty mind,
trying to put the puzzle back together
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 7:40 PM UTC