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Kyle John Somer Oct 2012
Our fingertips are getting so cold in the places we call home.
Putting themselves to sleep with braille goose bump bed time stories.
As our bone marrow weathermen  predict another liquid nitrogen winter.

Lately we have been falling apart like glacial walls.
Our chips off the old block selves falling short
Sinking deeper with all this new pressure and all the cold.
The last of our oxygen seeping through the cracks of our lungs as our time on the bottom runs out.
As our face in the gutter hourglass runs low.
Until we forget why were looking up.
The air bubbles are slipping through our lips like rubber balloon landmines that we've blown our hopes into.
And the places we house those dreams are beginning cut loose the strings that we have been holding onto
The childhood fantasies that are better let go.
Mostly our views of perfection an
d of affection that we should no longer be grasping.
Until we are almost bursting and all that fills our minds are the thoughts of red iron razors
The ones we grow when we think of our wrists.

And I am hoping that they can drag their metallic fingers through the flesh of those message in bottle balloons til they burst
so we can cut out the silence we have been thinking so long and fill it with some ****** inspiration

But the nights are still getting darker with tongues of shadow frostbite
and ever since our nomadic tendencies saw our survival expectancies
we have been moving around in our own skin with foster kid frequencies
wearing our heart sleeves rolled up because we don't want to get hurt again.

We are sensitive to light and you are diamonds and that scares us.

because even sunlight has a history of dripping agony
and the chances are high that we end up dancing with bad luck when the sky falls.
Stepping on cracks and filling shoes with puddles.

There's a cold war going on in our hearts
and were scared of the deja vu fallout of another nuclear winter
and you like to tango with destrucion
so we duck and cover behind the bright side of the sun
we live in shadows to protect our eyes from unclear reactions
Seeking shelter in empty alleyways
Under Gothic styled rib cages

And in the hollow places that we locked away our heart
We thew away the keys.

We have the same sickness as Icarus and we are burning up like a candle in the core of the earth.
Because we already have swallowed so much blue sky salt water
We have downed glasses and glasses of your unpredictability
and its been flowing counterclockwise down our throats
stinging like back stabbed golden friendships
like out cast creation
like the heartbroken rejection that had so much promise that we believed in it
and put our hearts into it
and then were broken
and burnt
like Alexander libraries and tornado explosions

Its been so lonely being safe.
Its been so cold.
So if you ask me how many heart beats I skipped for you
Ill tell you millions
Ill tell you life times
Ill tell you that I have missed you symphonies and that you should come home.

I've carved a place in my lock for your key.
I've looked up at the stars with wide eye telescope desire
and I want to dance with you and your big dipper hands.
I've worn chameleon skin for far to long and loved you under my breath even longer.

Your brilliance scares me but please let me join you.
I am sick of hiding behind shutters and stutters and dark water.
I am sick of thinking of razors and space and being alone.

We could blind the world together
You and I
Two happy people burnt into the memories of the universe.
india Apr 2013
When you get mad
that scares me
your breathes becomes ragged
your hands ball up in angry fists
and your voice because loud
in a horrible way
but when you are happy
the corners of your eyes wrinkle
in a big smile
those blue oceans showing true joy
and you make me feel like
I could never live without you in my life
that scares me also.
  *i.c.d
Stacie Lynn Jul 2016
if only emotional abuse scarred my skin the way physical abuse did, because maybe then you'd see that your words and your demeanor are the reason why you say i have issues with channeling my anger
maybe if your screams bludgeoned my skin the way a punch would destroy the filaments under my tender flesh, you'd notice how much you're hurting me
and it scares me that you can't even see what you're doing
it scares me that one day i'll be one scream away from erratically fainting to my demise, falling effortlessly to the floor, heart still beating in my chest and brain activity picking up faster than ever before
it scares me that you're not scared
your words are like knives carving my organs with cynical words
"worthless" is inscribed through the hemispheres of my brain
"damaged" is engraved into my lungs
i can't breathe
and im beginning
to not feel anything
anymore
Izzy May 2017
I.    Scared
This is real for me
This is love to me.
And some days I’m scared out of my mind at how genuine this is.
Nothing has ever felt this authentic to me, other than maybe pain.
This is new to me.
You read the stories and love is this all powerful magic and its so **** powerful that it scares me. It scares me that this thing, this emotion, may rip my heart out of my chest and leave it in a million little pieces.
I’m not scared of you,
I’m not scared of us,
I’m not scared of a fight,
I’m not scared of love,
I’m not scared of forever,
And I’m definitely not scared of heartbreak, my heart has known its scars and I’m not afraid of gathering more.
I’m scared of an ending that’s everything but happy,
I’m scared of the strength of my feelings,
scared I’ll let you down,
scared I’ll hurt you,
scared of anything and everything, all my demons coming out to play and every inch of me is screaming run.
I’m scared that I’ll run,
I’m scared of losing you,
of not being enough.
But as scared as I am, I’m willing to fight for this.
For us.
For our forever
Our happy ever after.

II.    Two
Two souls, more different yet similar than most, met while on their own paths.
They continued together for a while, like many others.
A poet and a soldier, each claiming their own hell, living in their own darkness.
Finding comfort in each other’s arms.

III.    Love
How do you measure a relationship?
By the future?
By the arguments?
I’ve always measured it by how far I could see down the road.
And honestly, with some I could see into 20’s or 30’s, but never the end of our road. Those thoughts were foggy, these are too but more clear, everything is blurred but your face, where with them everything but their face was clear.
With them, I saw lives I didn’t want, lives that were comfortably numb. I saw superficial happy endings.
But with you I see my forever.
I see 5 years down the road, chasing dreams
I see 10 years, building a family
I see 15 years, balancing life
I see 40 years, retiring
I see 50 years, walking down random city streets, hands intertwined
I see 60+ years and meeting again someday in another existence  

I see forever with you
I want forever with you.
Khole May 2016
When you look at me
I can't help but look away.
When you text me
I can't help but not respond.
When you talk to me at school
I can't help but walk away.
I love you,
but love scares me.
Us scares me.
You scare me.
It all scares me.
Aidan A Aug 2017
Nothing scares me more than the thought
That I can become lesser
To someone who once loved me in entirety

What if my insecurity that she always helps to quell
Becomes a burden in her every day
What if the creativity
That she once saw in my every song
And poem
Becomes nothing more than another word
Carelessly placed

What if my once compelling conversational topics
Become but an obligation to reply
What if the things that hold us together
Right now
Are made nonexistent
And my words don't flow like they used to,
That my voice doesn't sing as well as it should do

Nothing scares me more

My inability to take a step back and stay calm
My perpetual insecurity and need for assurance
My incapacity to overlook the things that don't matter

I'm being pessimistic because I know she loves me
But I can't shake off the thought that
Everything she now knows about me
Has already begun to seem unappealing

The thought that the spark we set alight
Could have already begun to burn out
Because people fall out of love
For the same reasons they fell in it
Busted! Caught again
In a battle for your brain
Oh please, don't pretend

The nights! And the scares
Guilt built up inside your skull
Oh please, let it end

Curled, crying lies
Awake! Inside his eyes, glossed
In a withered glow

Oh! It asks as he
Blends into his wallpaper:
"Oh please, where'd you go?"

~Humanity, I don't know~
Wack Tastic Nov 2012
Can I be graced by a kiss from your aura,
Does the same feeling reside deep down inside,
We’ve been separated for so long my friend,
It scares me to see you like this,
Abrupt erections long gone,
The insecurity of prolonged exposure,
Sequences of nausea,
Seek and destroy,
The sickening of the tunnel vision,
How strange it seems now,
To look back at you,
How amazing it is,
To be myself again,
Made different by time,
The same ****** hole,
The singular aspect of oneness,
The grand expanse seemed so small,
Ironically,
Now seems to drag on with the whistles and clangs,
The bangs the song the spiral never ends.

Somewhere a part of my innocence was left behind,
Left to wither in the shared tunnel,
The smell of the air expelled made the hairs
In my nostrils stand on end and dissolve.
Now that I think about where I came from,
What happened to me to this point,
I’m happy it didn’t end so soon,
That I’ve been reunited,
Drawing a conclusion doesn’t seem so difficult,
When the beginning is just around the corner.
Amarys Dejai Jul 2018
I often wish that I was still a child.
So many things change when we grow up.
Innocence becomes lost,
days become shorter,
the nighttime still scares me,
playing house becomes a game of survival,
boys become men, men become frightening,
I become sad, worried, anxious, and self-aware,
friends will lose their half of the necklace or their friendship ring,
being loved by someone will determine my worth,
I no longer feel small next to the kitchen counter,
but in the presence of everyone around me,
“Forever” loses its meaning,
everyone will eventually leave,
death is no longer a myth,
I will not smile as often as I did,
I will not cry as little as I did,
I will not feel safe in school anymore,
I will not go outside and play anymore,
I will try and pick the imperfections off of
my skin until it is red and bleeding,
**** in my stomach whenever I walk,
work myself into exhaustion,
feel overwhelmed by every task,
have anxiety attacks in public places,
and wish that I was a child again.
elizabeth Jan 2017
I talk to myself;
It scares me how much I do...
Maybe I need help.
January 7, 2017.
I talk to myself a lot, and imagine whole scenarios and conversations. Is that normal? I do it a lot when I'm alone. And the more I talk, the faster my mind races. The faster my mind races, the faster I talk, and so on and so forth. It scares me a bit..
Ryan Bowdish Sep 2013
School was always humuorous to a degree in my opinion because of the underlying idea
that the more damaged you were, the cooler you were in the eyes of the rest of the school.
I have heard numerous conversations that began with something along the lines of, "Oh, you
think YOU got it bad, well my dad blah blah and my best friend blah blah and my life is hell."

I decided to get a little personal and share with you guys something I have never actually
told anyone in entirety yet. I am pretty sure the whole story is still only here in my brain.
I will, out of respect for these people, change their names.

It's October 31, 2012. It's about noon, and all of us sixteen to twenty-two year olds are just waking up.
Brianne woke up probably a few hours ago already to tend to her son, Aaron. He is adorable, one
and a half, blond hair, blue eyes. I have been living here for nearly two months. I am supporting her,
Aaron, and myself with food stamps. I get two hundred dollars a month to basically smoke **** and drink
on the government's budget. Trust me, I'm not proud of it either, and if I could I would pay it back.
Since Brianne is a single mother and an adopted child, she has a single-digit monthly rent (I was *******
baffled to hear this) and receives support from her foster parents. Basically, if I want to stay here forever
with absolutely no consequences save to miss out on a life of my own, I can.

Brandon is putting on clown make-up so he can troll the streets as a juggalo. I find this amusing as I always
liked to mess around with ICP fans, but he's a really cool kid so I let it go and I even help him perfect it.
I notice he has a bottle of Stolichnaya in his backpack and it's practically full. That, to me, is temptation.
I ask if he would mind me taking a few drinks here and there from the bottle and he says it's fine, so I proceed
to get a nice one p.m. buzz. It was always my favorite drunk, very light, and airy, almost like you're still asleep.
Something bogs you down, but it doesn't bother you, somehow it makes you lighter.

For the rest of the day, we hook up with a few friends, go out and trick or treat in the pouring rain, get soaked
and wait for two hours under an overpass while Brianne goes and gets her car. From there, we proceed home.

At this point, everyone is over at Breanne's and we're all making dinner and drinking beer and having a good time
(Aaron is with the grandparents tonight). I guess I started getting angry about the recent events (for about a month,
everyone in our group with the exception of Brandon have been slowly losing items...but they're obviously being stolen.
At a point, a few of us did some research and determined the only person who could possibly have stolen
a good deal of these things has to be Brandon) and I decided I was tired of sitting on the news waiting for no one to make
a move after a solid two weeks of being certain that we had our guy. So I called him out... and proceeded
to begin burning bridges slowly and very surely for the next few days. I am pretty sure a fight would have broken out
if Bri hadn't taken me into her room to relax. When I finally do, it turns out I woke up the upstairs neighbor,
her baby, and everyone in the house has left save for my friend Jeff and his girlfriend Marissa. This concludes night one.

I later learned that Brandon was not actually the person who was stealing from us (unless of course
he just happened to not get caught when we found out who had done most of it) and I feel bad for bringing the whole
thing up because I would have liked to stay in touch with him. We got along swimmingly and he actually did have
a lot of interesting things to talk about. Smart, nice, hilarious... Well, maybe he'll turn up one day.

The next morning, I woke up to find the house empty save for Jeff and Marissa in the next room, but where I am,
it simply appears empty. I don't know what happened but I intuit that I have been sleeping all night without
my girlfriend. This upsets me and I begin to weep like a confused child, which is exactly what you do when you're
helpless and too drunk in the brain to figure out how to pull yourself out of a helpless situation (trust me,
I own the handbook). Marissa walks in and begins to explain to me that I had scared her too much and she slept
on the couch and that she had left to go pick up her son. So I realize I need to calm down, but I can feel
Jeff is not happy with me in the slightest, considering he will not come and talk to me (this is extremely painful
because he is probably one of the best friends I have ever had, with a mind that vastly exceeds that of everyone
I have met save one other, and he's a different story). They leave and I decide to stay in the house all day.

This is a very bad idea. I stay home, watch re-runs of a show I have seen billions of times, and considering
that Brandon and I are no longer on good terms, like a complete *******, I drink the rest of his *****.

In walks Bri, it's around 7. She's not happy. She proceeds to tell me that the night before I asked out a friend of mine
and she said yes. And I was a bit shocked because I couldn't remember it at first. Then it all hit me.

A few days before, Aaron called me "dad." Now remember, this is not my child. I am dark, dark, dark, and she had this kid
about two years after we had any past relationship. I am extremely worried in my mind and I realize I am headed toward nothing.
That I am stagnant and can not even afford to go back to school. This scares me, so I drunkenly asked out Tanya.

Tanya...we had been friends for about five years, and I had tried to get with her so many **** times... she was like
one of those girls you see and you're instantly reminded of an anime character. Tall, thin, beautiful hips, perfect
proportions, lovely hair, eyes, voice, and a personality I can liken to a Disney princess/black metal lumberjack.
The kind of girl who has a tough exterior, but inside, she just wants someone to tell her everything is going to be ok.

After about two hours of pleading with Bri to let me stay, I finally send Tanya a message, and we hang out for the next
two days, whence I whisper in her ear that everything is going to be okay and we proceed to have quite passionate ***
for those nights, where I discovered the secret to making a woman ****** with my tongue (tip: if the underside of your
tongue isn't completely torn apart, you're doing something wrong). But alas, I could not stay.

This is the part I dreaded, because I know I have to go back to Jeff's house and ask him if I can stay there for a while.
And I got the answer I expected.

The words he used...

"I'm *******...extremely ******* at you, and disappointed." It was like a father saying it to you. And him and I
have a very interesting friendship built on such an extreme understanding that I knew exactly how badly I had been spiraling.
I began to leave and he gave me a slice of pizza, with that slight smile that told me "just go find yourself, we'll be fine."

I hobbled off into the night drunk, with one piece of pizza and all my food at Bri's, which could have lasted me another few days,
easing the transition into homeless. And it could have prevented a horrible occurance that took place the following afternoon. I
was crying, because I knew I was dying, but I didn't want to ask either of my parents for help, because this was the first time
I was out on my own and I was far too proud to give up and let the world make me its victim. So I walked...

Sixteen ******* miles...

To the next town. Took me all night because I was dodging traffic, easing into trees, avoiding on and off ramps, trying to stay
away from any police that may exist on the road. When I finally arrived in the next town (where I knew I may have one contact)
I decided to sleep until the morning came so I could have the energy to find my next venture.

It was five thirty am. I had 3 hours until sun-up, I had just walked enough to be burning, and there was plenty of whiskey in my veins.
I had left my sleeping bag with Tanya hours earlier, wishing in the park that I had not been so naiive as to think I would be allowed
back in the house. So I pulled out a pile of ***** clothes and put them over me like blankets, in some random corner of the local
park, under some bushes, hidden from cold and sight, with great hope...

Fifteen minutes pass. My eyes shoot open. I am freezing. The sweat has dried and frozen to my body. This is hell.

I grab my things and with the worst effort I can ever remember myself mustering, I drag myself to the toilet.
When I open it, the first thing I check for is cleanliness. It's spotless. I am so relieved. I sit in the corner of the room,
which my knees to my chest, head in my hands, wrapped in a leather jacket I had gotten from Jeff (ha, he really is my
guardian angel, though he would laugh to hear it).

I catch winks, occasionally looking up to check if the sun is rising. When it finally is, I get up, change my clothes (I had
ONE clean set of clothing and it had been rotting with the rest in the backpack) and immediately head to a thrift store where
a family friend is working.

On my way there, I notice in a little parking lot near the store a sight I had never actually come across but I always thought
would be the most amazing luck, and it was timed in such a spot in my life that it was the ultimate miracle...and a curse in
disguise.

In front of my eyes (this miracle appeared in my path as I was walking looking down, so it startled me) was the worst possible thing
for me: A half finished fifth of Smirnoff, and a half smoked pack of Marlboro 100 Reds. I open the pack and sure enough, the celophane
protected every cigarette inside from any water damage. I am ecstatic. This is not only amazing, but highly unlikely.

So I down the bottle in one go and take the rest of the smokes with me.

When I arrive at the thrift shop, it turns out I am there on a day when my potential savior is not working, so I get her number from the clerk
and head over to a payphone and realize... I have no money. So I decide to go on a quest for dropped pocket change.

Before I even leave the parking lot, I see a young man, no older than 23, sitting on a nice red classic-style Corvette and he's
reading William S. Burroughs. So naturally, I decide to strike up a conversation with the young man. Turns out he's the nicest guy
and his name is Jordan. So him and I got together and decided to go out for a game of disc golf (some may not know what this is;
Imagine frisbee but with a golf theme, so you need to get from a tee pad into a basket. Really fun, centering, and extremely popular
with potheads, Californians, beer-drinkers, and hippies) and before we go, he asks if I would like to snag a few beers first.

I tell him a piece of my story and he can tell I am down on my luck and broke so he decides to help me out. He buys us both some beer
and we proceed to disk.

Turns out he's an ex-****** and has been through quite a bit of hell himself, so we find that we're in a good position to help each
other make some better decisions in life. After the game, we go over to a payphone and he gives me money to call my friend.

Buzz (this the only name I am not changing because her name is ******* badass) answers the phone and unfortunately informs me that
though she would take me in any day of the year, she just moved in to a house with one older lady she takes care of, and its a single
bedroom apartment, so there is just no way it can work.

So I go back to his car and tell him the news, and he says he thinks he may be able to put me up for a few days until I can sort
everything out. We go back out to the store and grab ourselves a fifth of *****.

We end up in the park playing music, talking, performing standup for one another, and I begin to realize I am drinking too fast,
so I try to ease back a little. He was playing a version of a Radiohead song I had never heard before

"Everyone this way. Okay, get your hands against the wall. Spread your legs. Don't move."
The doors clanking, some ******* won't shut up in the next cell over.
More slamming of doors, someone rubbing my body all over trying to find my knives, no doubt.
And my AK 47 I conceal, and my ****, and my ... oh ****, I really did have **** on me.

"Move forward. Turn around. Alright, go to bed."

----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------

"Get up. Come on, slowly... There you go. There's a few more coming in so we got to get you to another cell."

Clank, clank...

"Pick a bed."

----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------

Something is wrong. This bed is not covered. There is no comfort. It's just a mat. And I have no pillow. This is not a house
of any sort, my bag isnt what I am sleeping on. Something is very wrong here.

I am in jail. Oh of course.

I know the answer before I hear it, but I ask anyway: "What are my charges, ma'am?"

"Drunk in public."

-------------------------------------------------------­------------------------

I'm about thirty miles or so North of inner Seattle. Not a bad place to be. I'm working for a Safeway. It's somewhere around
the first of June. I receive word that Bri has been on ******. And I may have left at a crucial time in her life thinking
only of myself, but I needed to go somewhere I could be productive. Yet my decision left her in a position where she turned
to hard drugs...

I can't help but feel I am to blame. I am listening to the dull, stupid words of my ex boss, Rod, who is telling me
that even though I may feel like I need to help her, there is nothing I can do for her, so I should bury myself in my work
instead. He tells me this in about six hundred different ways before I leave the room after twenty minutes. Well great.
I may have no focus here at work today, but at least I killed almost a half hour of the day just listening to someone
*******.

I am at a loss of what to do here, but I eventually get a hold of her, and after a long time not talking, we come to
somewhat of a closure, and she is beginning to sober up herself. I realize we were both in incredibly hard times, and I still
wish with all my heart there could have been some way I could have helped her raise that boy and stayed and been her
love, and at the same time, still go to college, and progress and get a good job...but I was in a small Northern California
town. There was nothing left, all the old shops were out of business. It was time for me to move on then, and we have
all seen better days for it. She looks incredible these days by the way. She lost an insane amount of weight, and I know
a lot of it had to do with the drugs, but if she truly is sober like she says she is, she'll be getting much better.

A few weeks ago 3 people I used to know and hang out with died in the span of a week. It was a terrible tragedy, and I have been
thinking back on all the names of people I used to love very, very much before they got lost in some way.

There's Lorne Holly, who killed himself after a few weeks of detoxing from crank.

Layla Harmon, who died in a car crash, blunt head trauma, with a drunk driver (I have a tattoo for this, I will never drive drunk).

Heavy Eagle, who killed himself after years of drug problems.

Chaz Lipman, who died in a car crash as well.

Ren Rain, who I am still not sure about...

And of course, Tray Beraldi, who was my closest friend's cousin... I wish I were there to mourne with him...

Last night I got a text from my best friend, who said he couldn't sleep and he barely eats anything anymore, and he feels like his throat
is going to explode, and he cant swallow and his neck is killing him constantly. He has been this way for a year, and he is talking constantly
about getting a gun and blowing his head off. And no one believes him because he constantly talks about it because he is in so much pain.
No doctor can diagnose him so far, he has no idea what's wrong with him, he's been tested all over the place, he has no hope, he's barely
cligning and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold on.

All I really want to say is

Lord? What I have done? I don't pray, I never pray, I don't even know who I would pray to. But WHAT ELSE DO I HAVE TO DO?!

I bring myself across hell and I pull myself from the worst depression I h
This is autobiographical...so be prepared for somewhat of a story.
elaine Sep 2018
my grip is slipping,
and falling scares me.
my world is fading away.
h      
          e
                     l
                             p
       m
                 e

h
          e
                    l
                          ­     p
          m
                     e

writing was an escape but even now words slip off the paper like tear drops.
why does it have to be like this?
Batya Dec 2012
Blinking back a constant wave of tears,
Like trying to see the road on a rainy day
And smiling to avoid the things you need to say.
Swimming for the breakers, 'cause you don't care anymore,
But they always let you down and bring you back to shore.
Rest easy, baby, close your eyes,
You know it can't hurt if you're empty inside.
You're not at the top of the food chain if you're not there alone,
You don't need a mirror to tell you you've grown.
You never know what something's worth 'till it's almost taken,
With every headline and phone call you feel your heart breaking.
Never been so scared in your life and you know
That that's the thing that scares you the most.

You dream of that week sometimes, late at night.
You feel like a doll in a constellation of light
When you realize that you're only dreaming.
You're only dreaming, babe.
Breathe deep in the dark, count your fingers and toes,
Honest to God, only He knows
What's good enough to allow us to keep,
So live and let live and go back to sleep.
Liz Jan 2015
My couch is a wasteland,
Pulls me down, I cannot stand.
It scares me that I’m drawn to gore,
I see destruction, I want more.
I don’t know if its anger,
Or if it’s something stranger.
I want to shatter glass,
I need to make this feeling pass.
I want to throw things and scream,
I want to get out of this dream.
Running isn’t satisfying,
I feel like I need to break something.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
.there are only two aspects of forgiveness worthwhile, kept in anticipatory slumber, (1) is watching the masses congregate within the confines of your thinking, but (2)... watching how individuals in said massing of resources... seem to be akin to: someone walking on tip-toe on a bed  egg-shells... i'm met a few crazies... and i've prescribed myself investigating a few normal-folk, who are seemingly petrified, "thinking" than such: negations of ease, akin to depression, have an epidemic ontology.... that they are contagious... more or less.... like a sick ego, that bribes one's thinking and sows a false duality between what constitutes a body, consumed, with what otherwise, constitutes a mind... i've seen a few crazies... they seemed to like me, even when i suggested that we only just met...  the most senile people in the world... thus, to be frank... i'm more concerned with the sanity projects... with their emotional intelligence worth less than the emotional relativism of a gnat to a bear, which begs the reason os arguing: none... who... are so barren... they'd prefer the status of a pawn, in a game of chess, akin to Jimmy Savile...so much for the Saxon logic of: innocent until proven guilty... more like: innocent proven by death, after which... there is no case for either innocence, or guilt... i'm of the conviction... that... i'd rather see an innocent man claim redemption in life... than a guilty man laugh at a redemption in death; sorry... but i don't share the sort of sentiment that argues otherwise... better an innocent man claim redemption while alive... than a guilty man "claim innocence" while dead... part-and-parcel of the legality of the death penalty... the former argument: guilty until proven innocent makes a whole lot of sense without a death penalty... and the latter? no logic behind it... it makes no sense... then again... i am drunk, and i do not delve into sober issues or: serious circumstance... i allow sober people to meddle in such affairs... after all... sober people... make... the most... compelling arguments and, to boot, the most convincing opinions for up-coming affairs! why become a thief in their ordinances?! please! let the mice play, while the cat is away!  i need no bargain with ****-stormers and ******-buggery!

oh i've been to a few psychiatric interviews
over the past 10+ years...
always wondering: what am i doing
here? psychoanalyzing the psychiatrists?

you do know what a psychiatrist is
a poor man's psychologist -
with the added branch of pharmacological
applicability?
  a psychologist will just talk,
perhaps serve you camomile tea...
but prescribe zero drugs...

the talking, the endless talking,
the talking
of a west London psychologist...
who ends the relationship when
you mention:
i've had a dream of Allah...
god he's grotesque...
but, point: there was
someone with him...

  i thought that Allah had no
companions, or rather: he took none?
oops...

i remember analyzing this
situation once,
a ****** psychiatrist brought in
aa medicine student
who wanted to specialize in
psychiatry...
   apparently he concluded that
i was sane...
nice... being the subject
of learning curvature
surrounding a medicine student...

next came the allotment plant
to mind the crazies
while mingling them with the physical
retards...
stole a lot of potatoes that day...
the retards slurred,
exposed their genitals...
and were huddled together like
cattle by the social workers...

******* marvelous!
couldn't expect a lesser
Moulin Rouge reinterpretation
if i wasn't watching harlots
dance the: flinging
of the undergarments on show
that warm July afternoon!

but always, whenever i visited
a psychiatrist in a clinic:
always...
  why am i here?

you know what scares psychiatrists?
EM-PA-THY...
scares the living life out of them...
empathy is what psychiatrists
apprehend the most...
   so you're neither a psychopath
or a sociopath?
what are you then? comes the auto-suggestive
interpretation
of the ****** expression that
comes with suggesting,
even the slightest lack of contempt
for a basic human emotion...

scared, ****-less!
as if on a diet of ****** ruling
over Sudan, or similar ****...
famine after famine,
scared, but unable to soil their underwear,
given... well... the ******* famine...

oh i love psychoanalyzing
psychiatrists,
they have a shorthand blistering
beneath their appreciation for
listening...
their pharmacology branch...
caught one psychiatrist off guard...
he says, out loud,
that... i was abused as a child...

and?
  perhaps i was, perhaps i wasn't...
better that than being treated like
the modern Humpty-Dumpty...
walking on egg-shells typo,
rather than type, of what constitutes
the ontology of individualism...

i had to retort  with / resort to seeking
the opinion of a Polish neurologist
who, with a basic question
'doctor, am i mentally ill?'
replied
  'whoever said you're mentally ill,
is mentally ill themselves!'
case closed...
    
hence the statistics are believable
surround the death of Ellie...
teenage suicide rose in England
by 67% between 2010 and 2017...
    
so you do know the difference between
a psychologist, and a psychiatrist?
camomile tea...
   a psychologist is a humanist,
a psychiatrist is a physician...

if you're rich enough...
you see a humanist...
  poor? shorry...
   the pharmaceutical branch
of the practice is coming into practice...
but don't worry...
chances are...
    you talk what they want to hear
for a while, and then you start
talking what: they don't want you to hear...

hell...
  with this type of medication
and the whiskey...
i could turn into a semi-variant of a
hibernating bear!
i don't mind...
           i found that the glorification
pompous camp of cancer "survivors"
had their stab in the dark...
   because can we only regress
to glorifying surviving one type of
disease, while making stigma of
another kind?

the mentally ill are less of my concern....
i'm worried about the dim-wits
who abuse antibiotics!
   and i am... ******* numb-skulls...
taking antibiotics like
free-prescription vitamins!
creating the perfect niche for
super-bugs!
                      dim-wits!
         numb-skulls!
  and i thought that head-banging was
a source for erasing brain cells!
Seductive Poetry Jan 2021
You will rise again

You have been beaten down

You have been abused

You have been torn down

You have been told you were nothing

You have been told you can’t do it

You are plagued by residuals

You are tormented by demons

You are tortured by nightmares

You are attacked by PTSD daily

You are reminded of it all by your scares

You are so tired of it all

Yet you survived all of it

You continue to live each day

You continue to smile

You continue to thrive

You continue to overcome

You continue to be strong

You continue to rise

© Seductive Poetry

Spoken Word Version :: https://youtu.be/xGzGQ-8tSGM
K Apr 2013
You've killed us with sword, and you've killed us with bow

Killed us by dropping us down far below

You take our remains and use them for crafting,

Now, Minecrafter, we have questions for asking.

Which of us 'mobs' do you the most fear?

Who makes you shake when our name you do hear?

Answer us, Notch-Child, answer us well

Your innermost fears to us you shall tell.

Is the Creeper, the camouflaged one

That scares you the most (Even in the Sun)?

For whenever he sees you, he flashes in white,

And will, lest vanquished, explode in the night?

Maybe the Zombie, who travels in hordes,

Attacking Testificates, breaking down doors?

When the terrible moan comes forth from his throat,

Do you despair, do you lose all hope?

Perhaps a Skeleton, wielding his bow,

Is he – do you think – the most terrible foe?

The ****** that sees you, wherever you are,

Draws back his weapon and kills from afar?

Could it be a Spider, eyes glowing red,

That climbs up the walls, does he fill you with dread?

Perchance it's his brother, down in the mines,

With poisonous fangs he waits, biding his time?

Perchance the Silverfish, hiding in rock,

That swarm and attack should you break down its block?

Is it them you fear whilst exploring the caves

Faced with them, can you call yourself brave?

Or the Slime, living far underground

That scares you away with its odd shape and sound?

The small ones can't hurt you, that much is true,

But the largest ones bring harm swiftly to you.

You've crafted a portal, and think yourself clever,

But can you withstand our dear friends in the Nether?

They dwell in a land full of lava and fire

Do you fear the ones in the burning mire?

The Zombie Pigman, needing no explanation,

They protect one another, an undead nation.

Are they the ones that you find most frightening?

And appear in Overworld when a pig's struck by lightning?

Is it the Ghast, silver tear in its eye,

That scares you away and makes you cry?

It really is best not to get in one's way

If one shot at you, would you run from the fray?

What of the Blaze, whose body burns bright,

Guardian of fortresses, that sets you alight?

Maybe it's they who send you running to

Your home where you dream of the water deep blue.

We're nearing the End of our little game,

Our question, however, is always the same.

Are you scared of the 'mobs' in the land full of void?

Or maybe, perhaps, you're just vaguely annoyed?

Fear you the Enderman, standing so tall

Him do you fear, the most of all?

Look not to his eyes or he'll teleport near you

And **** unless you swim in water clear and blue.

Or the Dragon, whom to leave the End you must fight,

That heals himself with pillars of light?

He flies through the air, majestic and black,

But face him you must, for there's no turning back.

You've killed us with lava, killed us by drowning,

But now whom the most fearful one are you crowning?

You've killed us, even, with your bare fists.

For now, questions answered, we retreat to the mists.



Which mob do YOU fear?
Sadie Kim Mar 2015
I am astonished as to how at ease you are
with the great unknown
how unfazed you are
with being lost in uncertainty
It scares me how I am willing
to toss the compass overboard
and join you
how willing I am to destroy myself
only to reform again to be
brave like you
You make me feel safe
In myself
You’ve freed me to be
capable
WARNER BAXTER Jan 2014
~
SOMEBODY HELP ME!

ThE VoicEs in mY head argUe back ANd ForTh
IT MaKes mE TirEd buT...
I cAn'T SleeP 'CaUse ThE CloWns Will EaT Me

ScaRy FReaKin' CloWns

IT's ThaT BiG ReD Nose That ScaRes mE Most
NO, It'S Those StUpid *** Floppy ShoeS ThaT
ScaRes ME MosT

ScaRy FReaKin' CloWns

nO Wait, It'S Those CreePy FlaT FeeT AnD GnaRly
ToenAils
Those NasTy Twisted ToEnailS InsiDe Those StUpid
*** Floppy ShoeS ThaT ScaRes ME MosT

IcK I'M gOnna bE SicK
ScaRy FReaKin' CloWns

And if yOu sQuEEzE that fRicKin' horn oNe more TimE
I'm gOnna craM it uP yOur CloWnie BRoWnie so ****
fAr yOur FarTs Will honk

**ScaRy FReaKin' CloWns
Meka Boyle Feb 2012
It's not falling in love that scares me,
It's the falling out of it.
You know, the feeling that creeps up on you,
Like a tear in nyolon stockings, or an old knit sweater.
Not a big obnoxious ****, but a tiny run that eventually dismantles the entire garment,
Leaving it forlorn and impossible to wear.
Tossed aside in an old wastebasket, only to be taken out for reminicing.
We're destined for that kind of falling apart, I think.
I know it isn't fair, but it's inevitable,
And the more we try to avoid it,
The longer we pretend it doesn't exist,
The harsher it becomes, catching us off guard.
Slowly infesting the shadows of our doubts,
Until it takes over, leaving us naked
Face to face with the unwraveling truth:
Nothing that lasts is beautiful,
And nothing that's beautiful lasts.
For, every time "I love you" is uttered,
The fabric between us wears a little thinner,
Exposing our flesh to the unforgiving coldness of leaving.
Making us vulnerable in the worst kind of way.
OnjuliThePoet Jul 2014
No one seems to notice the scares on my wrist
or
the pain i feel in side
I've tried to fake a smile but its become to hard  
the people i know who care are forever there they believe im happy when im not

so i fake my smile to make them believe that i am
i don't want them to worry about me so i will fill there hearts with joy and laughter

but as long as im here the scares are my enemy's
the one's who torment me, the one's who truly ****
so i will continue to heal until one day I've had enough
but right now it seems that it never will be

deep down inside i feel like i died
and nobody hears my corps screaming in pain
so i will leave and pretend again please help me im slowly dying in side but you wont help so i will leave

I'll go to another world were i will be understood
i will be excepted and loved you told me you didn't care and now i see
what you meant you all hated me

laughed and called me names well im done
i took my stand and you pushed me back down
i tried to stand my ground but  you buried me alive
and now I've suffocated and its due to the harm and hatred
so i say farewell to you and so long for you are the fool that has let me down

now im gone I've left and i see you miss me
well you have apologized to late and now you know my pain
are you as sorry as i am for all of those rude and messed up names
well i am but now i cant feel your pain you had your chance
but as you watched from the side lines i cried and died and you witnessed my death*

so  now i see you did care im a survivor and thats all i will ever be for as long as i live and once i die you will care
Eduardo Flores Apr 2015
I get the word Rejection tossed, as if it scares me!
As if i've never been rejected, as if rejection is new like the new world Christopher discovered… huh oh wait.
As if I’ve never felt it, Seen it, Been a part of it.
Rejection is fear…
Rejection isn't fear if you don't allow it. Rejection can be try again.
Rejection can be that girl or that boy, how about rejection can be that person because it sees no face sees no color
It sees… it sees and it doesn't care
Rejection is all around.
Rejection by others is not as bad as my own rejection.
My own rejection to try, to sing, to dance, to be happy
you see my friend
your rejection is nothing, but motivation
You might whisper it behind my back, but I need you to understand I use to scream it to my face!
You can't!
Don't try!
I hate you!
I want you to die!
You’re so ******* pathetic!
Stop!
Stop!
Stop…
Rejection now to me, means try harder.
Unless you have been told by someone no, then it means chill the **** down and no
Because there is nothing sexier than consent.
Because love is blind…
Now before i get off topic
let me bring it back
But not back to Vegas
But back to me
Because I've been tossed and I've been pushed
And I have pushed and I have shoved
And you see i'm alive
And have survived
So don't use the word rejection and try to bring me fear… because this aint no fear factor
Life just has a funny way of telling you to get back up
So get back up
Now before you try and bring me down bring me down from the one step I took, but only one because you see I am scared…
But not of rejection, but of heights..
3/10/14
My Scarlet Amora Nov 2014
You said it
I still can't believe you said it
You feel the same way
How did this happen
I feel like soda can being shaken and then thrown
I'm going to explode into the air
You said it
But now what
I can't do anything about it
But I could
And I want to
And that scares me
But you said it
Just one kiss
That's all I need
How bad can one kiss be
There could be nothing between us
But I hope there is
I want to feel your spark
I cant believe you said it
Clem N Tine May 2016
My anxiety is not me.

My anxiety is shaking hands.
My anxiety is imaginative.
My anxiety is sleepless nights.
My anxiety is never satisfied.

My anxiety sits on my shoulder.

My anxiety keeps me from making important phone calls.
My anxiety forces me to want to isolate myself.
My anxiety makes me cry over nothing.
My anxiety makes me cry over everything.
My anxiety tells me a C may as well be an F.
But my anxiety forces me to avoid important tasks I have to deal with. Everything scares me.

What am I so scared of?

My anxiety wakes me up vomiting.
My anxiety forces me to pull away from the people I so badly want to fall into.
My anxiety keeps me from living.

My anxiety makes me at least two to twenty minutes late everywhere because I don’t believe I am ever prepared,
so I have to retrace my every other step,
constantly checking and re checking.
Constantly doubting.

My anxiety is a thin stream of fear trickling through my mind.
My anxiety is a menace, a monster, a fish with teeth,
black yarn, lawn chairs sinking in the sand.

My anxiety rules me.
Gino Aug 2013
You always say you hate to see me hurt, and you hate to see me cry. So all those times that you hurt me, did you close your eyes? Sad isn’t it? How no matter what you do or say to me… when you come running back… when you need me again… I’ll be here… right here waiting for you, I’ll take you back… no questions asked. Sad isn’t it?

So… from now on… when you think of me… just remember that I could’ve been the best thing you ever had You hurt me more then I deserve, how can you be so cruel? I love you more then you deserve, why am I such a fool? You asked me what was wrong, I smiled and said nothing, when you turned around and a tear came down and I whispered to myself… everything is.

You wonder why I don’t talk to you anymore and please believe me when I say it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that everything I want to say I can’t tell you anymore I don’t know which I would rather believe… that you never did care or that you eventually stopped Hold my hand, just one more time, so I can remind myself why it is that I can’t get over you I think its time I let you go… and that is hard to do because part of me will be in love with you for the rest of my life.

While I was holding on all you did was let go Sometimes it’s better to be alone. No one can hurt you that way I just wonder how many people never get the one they want, but end up with the one they’re supposed to have The hardest thing about growing up is that you have to do what is right for you even if it means breaking someone’s heart. Including your own.

All I’m asking for is one night together. Just you and me. All alone. And if you can honestly say you don’t feel anything for me after that night, I will finally let you go Sometimes all you need is a broken heart to realize that something even better is right in front of our eyes, just waiting to be found No one can promise they’ll never hurt you because at one time or another, it will happen. The real promise is if the time you spend together will be worth the pain in the end.

The worst feeling in the world is knowing you’ve been used and lied to Maybe they are right. Maybe I did get my hopes up too high. Maybe I was in over my head. Maybe I am the stupid one for ever thinking that you loved me, but maybe, just maybe, I am tired of being alone I don’t know which is worse, being the one with the broken heart or being the person that breaks the hearts It’s not that we aren’t meant to be together, I think that we’re just not ready for forever You always have an out An exit strategy to make sure you don’t get hurt  You always walk always  You walk away before they can walk away from you There were reasons we met, reasons for the good times and reasons bad times, and most importantly a reason to end. We have more to learn, more to experience and more loving to do in this lifetime.

Somehow I know we’ll meet again, not quite sure where and not sure when, your in my heart so until then good-bye If you think you’ve found that one that you really love… make sure they love you back Don’t hate me. Don’t regret me. Don’t even forget me Wherever you go, whatever you do, don’t say I never loved you It’s hard to love someone who’s in love with someone else, you have to ignore the pain and swallow your pride. Just to be a friend… but that’s all worth it because sometimes friendship last longer than love.

I haven’t been around but that doesn’t mean I'm there for  Even when I was acting like a fool I’ve tried to show you in a million ways but nothing ever got through I cut to prove to you that you are not the only one that can hurt me I wish I saved all the tears I cried for you so I could ******* drown you in them Sometimes I love you, Sometimes you make me blue, Sometimes I feel good, At times I feel used. Loving you darling makes me so confused get weak, that is my problem…

But the thing that I want you to see the most is that I survived without you I don’t think I ever felt that good and that bad at the same time in my life Sometimes I have been thinking a lot about growing up, and all of the relationships and broken hearts we go through. I always wonder how many times I said “I love you” to someone  Love is putting up with someone’s bad qualities because they somehow complete you Stop trying to change yourself for a relationship that’s not meant to be Don’t stay because you think “it will get better”. You’ll be mad at yourself a year later for staying when things are not better.

You cannot change a man’s behavior. Change comes from within I may hate myself in the morning But I’m gonna love you tonight Relationships are like glasses. If they break, let them stay broken, you’ll only hurt yourself trying to fix it. At least the pieces still remain Why do we fall for someone, who really isn’t for us?… should we blame ourselves for falling the wrong one. Or… should we blame the one we fell for, because… they made us believe that they are the right one for us?!

There will always be faces you can never look at without emotion and there are names you can never hear spoken without that same old feelings returning. Just when you think you can move on, you’ll remember all the reasons why you held on so long The only thing worse than a broken heart is knowing you’d give him another chance.
I don’t understand why I let myself stay with you, after all the lies and all the tears cried. What makes you so ******* special?

Too often we don’t realize what we have until it’s gone… too often we wait too long to say “I’m sorry, I was wrong” There’s nothing scarier then getting what you want, cause that’s when you really have something to lose.

I’m mad at myself for crying, I don’t even remember the reason but the tears keep flowing and they just wont stop I’m supposed to be strong but everything’s so wrong Maybe sometimes you just have to say what’s in your heart, not just what you think someone wants to hear I’m sorry that I’m not the one you wanted that I made your life ****** up its not telling you how I feel that scares me. Its what you’ll say back that does.

Learn from your past, move on, grow stronger. People are fake, but let your trust last longer. Do what you got to do, but always stay true, and never let anyone get the best of you.

I think it’s time that I let you go. And it’s really hard for me to do because I know that there’s a part of me that will be in love with you for the rest of my life. But this while running in place and day dreaming is just not healthy for either of us.

Not everything’s gonna be picture perfect… Things sometimes take time and have rough times to get through… Before you can get there but if you give up on things you want, everything you’ve gone through ends up being completely worthless If one day you realize that I haven’t talked to you in a while it’s not because I don’t care anymore it’s because you pushed me away and just left me there…

The higher you build the walls around your heart, the harder you fall when someone tears them down.
Just hit play and watch my life fall apart I can’t help myself I don’t want anyone else You are unmistaken ably my first love. Every guy I am with for the rest of my life will be compared to you Hold me when I cry, sleep with me on my drenched pillow, just for one night.
I know it’s hard to love me, but couldn’t you please just try anyway?
Time and time again, I forgave you. I’ve forgiven you for things that I swore to myself I’d never forgive someone for… and here you are, still hurting me, and I still forgive you And these break up songs Are making sense again And I really wish they didn’t.

It’s amazing after all we’ve been through the good times and the bad how we can walk past each other and pretend like it never happened give each other an awkward smile and move on It’s really painful to say goodbye to someone that you don’t want to let go but its even more painful to ask someone to stay if they never wanted to stay.

A sad thing in life is when you meet someone who means a lot to you, only to find out in the end that it was never meant to be and you just have to let go.
You didn’t intentionally break my heart, you even said you were sorry, but I cried anyway… I know the truth that you’re to scared to admit, you’re with her, but when you look at me, you can’t even remember her name

I’m  hurt. I am always getting my heart broken over and over. My heart has so many scars and bruises all over it. I don’t know how much just one heart can
take really, and I don’t really want to find out either.
After a while, you learn the difference between holding a hand, and falling in love. You’ll learn kisses don’t always mean something. Promises can be broken just as easily as they were made, and as hard as it is to believe, sometimes goodbyes are forever.

Life doesn’t hurt until you have time to yourself to think about how things have changed, who you’ve lost along the way, and how much of it is your fault.
It’s like once you’ve been hurt, you’re so scared to get attached again. you have this fear that every person you start to fall for, is just going to break your heart again If you don’t love me at my worst then you don’t deserve me at my best Make me stay Say something sweet and tender and untrue and make me stay.

The hardest thing about knowing you don’t love me
is that you spent so much time pretending that you did Like being in love there must be a corresponding painful side like losing in love, it’s just a fact of life You really know you love someone when all you want is for them to be happy, even if that means that you are not a part of me It’s not my fault if I can’t help looking at you. It’s not my fault if I can’t stop calling you. It’s not my fault I do like you. My only mistake was to fall to much in love with you Sometimes – no matter how long, or how much you love someone, they will never love you back and somehow you have to learn to be okay with that.

If your gonna make me cry, at least be there to wipe away the tears.
I’m holding on to something that used to be there hoping it will come back, knowing it won’t There’s always that one special person that no matter what they do to you, you just cant let them go At first, I cried because I didn’t have you why do I still cry now that I do?
How could you make me love you and then not be there to love me back?

I sit here and think about everything that happened this past week and not a single tear runs down my cheek. Maybe its because I’m too hurt to cry, or maybe I’m just to mad at you Maybe just  its my hearts way of telling me this isn’t over yet What do you do when the only person who can stop your tears is the one making you cry I’d like to think I’ll be happy again, but I really need to just stop and cry now, and sometimes I wish I could just scream at you, and show you what you do to me.

And even though you lied, and even though you pretended to care I can’t seem to get you out of my mind and even though it seems like I should be over you, with every tear that falls, it reminds me of how much I am still in love with you.

Have you ever hated somebody so much that you wish they would just leave and never come back but yet, loved them so much, you knew you'll die if they did?
I’ve been through this pain before I’ve even cried these tears before but to get you back, I’d go through so much more  I’m going to smile like nothings wrong, talk like everythings perfect, act like its just a dream and pretend that she’s not hurting me The truth of the matter is, I still have feelings for you And no matter how many times I tell myself that I’m better off with out you, a part of me just won’t let go I know I made a lot of stupid mistakes in my life, but the worst one was thinking the person who hurt me the most wouldn’t hurt me again.

I feel like I am sitting in a room full of people that I love, and you know what, they just don’t care that I love them. They don’t care whether or not I live or die. To them I’m just another person , just another stranger. To me, they are my best friends, the only people I have left I’m scared to fall in love, scared to fall fast, because every time I fall in love, it never seems to last You’re the reason I live and the reason I die, you’re the reason.

I smile yet break down and cry, you’re the reason I keep going and the reason I fall, cause without you in my life I’m nothing at all I have waited for you for years and I will wait for you for the rest of my life. Even if that means I have to give you up for the rest of my life, I will wait for you.

I’m gonna smile, because I wanna make you happy, laugh, so you won’t see me cry. I’m gonna let you go in style, and even if it kills me, I’m gonna smile.
Love? It’s kind of complicated, but I’ll tell you this the second you’re willing to make yourself miserable to make someone else happy, that’s love right there.

You asked me what was wrong, I smiled and said nothing, when you turned around and a tear came down and I whispered to myself everything is.
I used to think that if I loved you enough you would realize it and love me back,
I don’t know which is worse, keeping your love for someone a secret or telling them and risk being rejected I don’t know which is worse, loving someone knowing its going to cause you pain or being in pain because you can’t love someone It hurts to realize that them people you thought you’d love for life don’t love you as much as you thought they did and can do without you as if they never knew you at all It seems to me that the harder I try the harder I fall.
Ever notice that the people who hurt you the most are the ones you tend to love more It’s funny the way you can get use to the tears and the pain.
No more crying, I can’t cry anymore. Don’t take my hand this time. Just go please and don’t look back, because I know if you did, I’d come running back to you and I can’t do that.

I’m glad you’re happy. I can’t say that I’m completely happy for you but I guess that’s just a part of life, I’ll always have feelings for you but the rest of the world is forcing me to move on.
I would rather leave now still loving you then to leave later hating you.
Broken heart again. Another lesson learned. Better know your friends. Or you will get burned.

Sometimes we must get hurt in order to grow; we must fail in order to know. Sometimes our vision only clears after our eyes are washed away with tears.
Walk home drowning these memories in the rain biting my lip to transfer this pain, your gone and I’m still going through withdrawals, next time around I’ll build a stronger wall You and me are inevitable, you’re all that makes me happy but if you break my heart again, I’ll **** you.

I’ve been laying here all night, listening to the rain. Talking to my heart and trying to explain. Why sometimes I catch myself wondering what might have been. Yes I do think about you, every now and then I’m not afraid of heights, I’m afraid of falling. I’m not scared of the dark, I’m scared of what’s in it. I’m not afraid of love, I’m afraid of not being loved back.

I didn’t ask for it to be over, but then again, I didn’t ask for it to begin. For that’s the way it is with life, as some of the most beautiful days come completely by chance I wish I saved all the tears I cried for you so I could ******* drown you in them.

I hate the way I could never hate you.
I want to cry, I really do, but I guess I just don’t want to give you the satisfaction of knowing that you hurt me once again I remember when I still believed the things you said You can’t just cling on to something because it’s familiar Difficult or easy, pleasant or bitter, you are the same you; I cannot live, with or without you.

This time its over I’m keeping my heart, I’m gonna be strong and not fall apart it’ll get better, I’ll no longer cryin a couple of weeks I won’t want to die, I won’t want to go back. I’ll be able to sleep, it won’t hurt so bad and it won’t hurt so deep!

It hurts to see someone you love ignoring you, it also hurts to see that he doesn’t feel your love. But it hurts even more to know that he loves you too, and just doesn’t want you to know Love is when someone hurts you. And you get so mad but you don’t yell at them because you know it would hurt their feelings I’d rather be your lover then your friend, but I’d rather be your friend then your nobody.

I’ve convinced everyone else that I don’t like you
Uhh Who Feb 2013
Sleeplessness
Brought to you by sparkling espresso in a can
I have underestimated you yet again, oh humble coffee bean
But back to work
Eight tabs open, going back and forth
It's nothing short of a miracle if any given task is given more than a minute of attention at a time
Muscle spasms, trembling, fascinating
Overwhelming urge to mindlessly flex the muscles I don't have
Fake machissimo brought about by exhauation?
Or the exhileration of having to complete 8 projects in a day
While simultaneously trying to grasp a breaking down of my mind which hasn't happened since...forever
Hmm
These are the prime conditions to breed a taxing marathon of productivity
Or a chain of costly impulsive decisions to perpetuate procrastination.
Signs that someone is going crazy range from ****** to inability to stick to a single topic to excessive use of run on sentences
"How meta, acknowledging your insanity deconstructs the very notion of it if you normalize it within yourself and just look as everyone else as crazy! Ha.ha."
That made no sense, i don't think.
I like using big words to make myself sound smart you can make anyone believe anything if you use big words also it scares those
Hippopotomonstroesquipedaliophobixlcs
Grumble grumble
Good night/morning/whatever
12/12/12
I wish I could talk the way I write...
I wish I knew how to tell you what's on my mind...
I wish I could...

Because I would tell you that I'm scared shitless to lose you, that I can't help but to selfishly want you for myself at times.  
I would tell you that my heart wants to jump out of its chest every time you say you love me, and that I feel butterflies all over my body when we kiss... I would tell you that I wanna hold on to every single moment spent with you and save it like a treasure in an old wooden chest. I would tell you that fighting with you makes my heart ache deeply and that your pains, I feel  them too. I would tell you that my heart is in your hands and that I'm scared like hell that you might let it fall and break in pieces... that I don't even want to think of that happening with you...
I would tell you that this distance we're about to experience frightens me... and that my eyes fill with tears when I know it's soon coming. I would tell you that I try to be strong in front of you, but that my soul screams inside as my heart cries in silence... I would tell you that you have all of me, even if you didn't want it; that I love to sleep on your chest because that sound of your beating heart soothes my constant anxiety... I would tell you that I love to wake up before you in the morning and give you one thousand kisses as you awake when breakfast is ready... I would tell you that knowing you won't be around every night makes my heart cry... that my loneliness scares me.... I would tell you that I don't mean to push away ... this is just me coping with it... the distance scares me... I don't want to hurt... I don't want you to hurt... I just wanna tell you that I love you... I'm deeply, uncontrollably, passionately in love with you.
Nigel Morgan Nov 2012
After the painting by Leonard John Fuller

I had promised I would arrive in good time for afternoon tea with Edith and the Aunt. Angela was nervous.
     ‘Edith scares me,’ she said. ‘I feel a foolish girl. I have so little to say that she could possibly be interested in.’
      She had sat up in bed that morning as I dressed. She had frowned, pushed her hair back behind her ears, then curled herself up like a child against my empty pillow. I sat on the bed and then stroked the hand she had reached out to touch me. She was still warm from sleep.
     ‘They are coming to see you,’ she whispered, ‘and to make sure I’m not fooling about with your mother’s house.’
‘I’ve told you, you may do what you like . . .’
‘But I’m not ready . . . and I don’t know how.’
‘Regard it as an adventure my dear, just like everything else.’
‘Well that had been such an adventure,’ she thought. ‘When you drive off each morning I can hardly bare it. It’s good you can’t see how silly I am, and what I do when you are not here.’
        I could imagine, or thought I could imagine. I’d never known such abandon; such a giving that seemed to consume her utterly. She would open herself to this passion of hers and pass out into the deepest sleep, only to wake suddenly and begin again.

Angela felt she had done her best. They’d been here since three, poked about the house and garden for an hour, and then Millicent had brought tea to the veranda. Jack had promised, promised he would look in before surgery, but by 4.30 she had abandoned hope in that safety net, and now launched out yet again onto the tightrope of conversation.
         Edith and the Aunt asked for the fourth time when Dr Phillips would be home. How strange. she thought, to refer to their near relative so, but, she supposed, doctor felt grander and more important than plain Jack. It carried weight, significance, *gravitas
.
       Angela hid her hands, turning her bitten to the quick nails into her lilac frock, hunching her shoulders, feeling a patch of nervous sweat under her thighs.
       ‘He’s probably still at the Cottage Hospital,’ she said gaily, ‘Reassuring his patients before the holiday weekend.’
      She and Jack had planned to drive to St Ives tomorrow, stay at the Mermaid, swim at ‘their’ bay, and sleep in the sun until their bodies dried and they could swim again.
       ‘How strange this situation,’ she considered. ‘Edith and the Aunt in the role of visitors to a house they knew infinitely better than she ever could.’
       The task ahead seemed formidable: being Jack’s wife, bearing Jack’s children, replacing Jack’s mother.
      Edith was thinking,’ What would mother have made of this girl?’ She’s so insipid, so ‘nothing at all’, there wasn’t even a book beside her bed, and her underwear, what little she seemed to wear, all over the place.'
      Edith just had to survey the marital bedroom, the room she had been born in, where she had lost her virginity during Daddy’s 60th party – Alan had been efficient and later pretended it hadn’t happened – she was sixteen and had hardly realised that was ***. Years later she had sat for hours with her mother in this room as, slipping in and out of her morphia-induced sleep, her mother had surveyed her life in short, sometimes surprising statements.
      Meanwhile the Aunt, Daddy’s unmarried younger sister had opened drawers, checked the paintings, looked at Angela’s slight wardrobe, fingered Jack’s ties.
      Edith remembered her as a twenty-something, painfully shy, too shy to swim with her young niece and nephew, always looking towards the house on the cliffs where they lived.
     They were those London artists with their unassorted and various children, negligent clothes and raised voices. The Aunt would wait until they all went into St Ives, for what ever they did in St Ives – drink probably, and creep up to the house and peer into the downstairs windows. It was all so strange what they made, nothing like the art she had seen in Florence with Daddy. It didn’t seem to represent anything. It seemed to be about nothing.
       Downstairs Angela knew. The visit to the bathroom was just too long and unnecessary. She didn’t care, but she did care, as she had cared at her wedding when the Aunt had said how sad it was that she had so little family, so few friends.
       Yet meeting Jack had changed everything. He wanted her to be as she was, she thought. And so she continued to be. All she felt she was this ripe body waiting to be impregnated with her husband’s child. Maybe then she would become someone, fit the Phillips mould, be the good wife, and then be able to deal with Edith and the Aunt.
        That cherub in the alcove, how grotesque! As Edith droned on about the research on her latest historical romance, Angela wondered at its provenance. ‘Daddy ‘ loved that sort of thing, Jack had told her. The house was full of her late father-in-law’s pictures, a compendium of Cornish scenes purchased from the St Ives people. She would burn the lot if she could, and fill the house with those startling canvases she occasionally glimpsed through studio doors in town. She knew one name, Terry Frost. She imagined for a moment covering up the cherub with one of his giant ecstatic spirals of form and colour.
       The chairs and the occasional tables she would disappear to the loft, she would make the veranda a space for walking too and fro. There would be an orange tree at one end and a lemon tree at the other; then a vast bowl on a white plinth in which she could place her garden treasures, rose petals, autumn leaves, feathers and stones. There might be a small sculpture, perhaps something by that gaunt woman with the loud voice, and those three children. Angela had been told she was significant, with a studio at the top of Church Lane.
       Edith had run out of experiences regarding her monthly visits to the reading room of the British Museum. She was doing the ’ two thousand a day, darling’, and The Dowager of Glenriven would be ‘out’ for the Christmas lists. The Aunt had remained silent, motionless, as though conserving her energies for the walk through the cool house to the car.
       ‘Oh Darlings,’ Jack shouted from the hall, ‘I’m just so late.’ Then entering the veranda, ‘Will you forgive me? Edith? Aunt Josie? (kiss, kiss) Such an afternoon . . .’
       Surveying the cluttered veranda Angela now knew she would take this house apart. She had nothing to lose except her sanity. Everything would go, particularly the cherub. She would never repeat such an afternoon.
      She stood up, smoothed her frock, put her arms around Jack and kissed him as passionately as she knew how.
This is the first of my PostCard Pieces - very short stories and prose poems based on postcards I've collected or been given from galleries and museums. I have a box of them, pick one out at random - and see what happens!
Natalie Sep 2015
"What are you?" he asks. "I mean what are you mixed with?"

He does not mean for the question to be rude. He has never seen someone quite like me, and the question has been bouncing around in his head for at least 2 minutes. So he blurts it out.

"Jamaican, Chinese, and White," I tell the stranger. I smile politely and attempt to mask my discomfort.

He only looks more intrigued. He thinks I am odd, oddly beautiful. Like a rare bird he has found. Not a bird one would ever keep. Just something to look at in awe.

"What are you?" the test paper asks, though in a more formal way. "Please bubble your ethnicity." I hesitate. I think about bubbling 3 different races, but I just end up filling in the bubble that says "other".

"What are you?" I ask my mirror. "Are you a freak? Why don't you look like everyone else? Why do they stare at you?"

"You are not pretty," i tell my reflection. "You are just different. The kind of different that no one likes. The kind of different that scares and intimidates people."

My reflection pauses for a moment. She smiles with kind eyes, forgiving my insult.

"You are everything," she tells me. "You are the sun, the moon and everything in between. You are a scorching hot fire, yet you are cold spring water. You are good and bad. You are you and I am, too. But most of all, you are human. Just like anyone else.
This poem is about the struggles and insecurities i used to have as a child of mixed race. Then growing up and learning to love myself.
JK Cabresos Dec 2018
Scares me not death
but living an empty world
chaos beyond control.

Scares me not death
but when a true love ends
afraid of trying again.
Copyright © 2018
That Girl Jul 2013
Its been this bad
Once before
It scares me to think I might be going that way again
It scares me to think of the mess I'm in
It scares me that's it's all come so fast
It scares me to think how long this might last
I'm empty inside
And I cannot hide it
Weeks ago I could not stop smiling
Now I'm barely crying
Has all emotion left me
Except this ache
This ache deep inside
It makes my muscles shake
An people stare
They're worried
I may seem angry
It not your fault
I am really sorry
I'm trying to be happy
Tomorrow I need to talk about this
Or soon
I can't sleep
You ask if I want Tylenol
But pain killers won't **** the type of pain that's killing me
Oh please
If only I could have a good cry
To let some of this escape
I can't stay awake and I can't sleep
Why does this always cut so deep?
Mark Tilford Sep 2015
Taking my last breath
I guess the inevitable " Death "
Not ever being able to catch my breath
Having to dance my last dance with "Death"
Leaving all my friends
Not being able to make amends
Not being able to feel the summer and winter winds
Being conscious and knowing I am close to the end
My soul not knowing where to go
It being caught in limbo
Not being on God's  list
Never again being kissed
Not being missed
That sure would make me ******
Getting buried six feet under the ground
People stepping on my grave mound
Not ever hearing another sound
Not being able to fool around or to run around
Scares
Not being unaware
Not making it upstairs
Being kicked downstairs
Not ever feeling love
Being in the dark
Not ever hearing my name MARK
I guess you figured it out
"Death"
Scares me.
!!
She Writes Jul 2018
I don’t know what scares me more
You wanting to know my secrets
Or my willingness to share them
Plain Jane Glory Nov 2013
My dear, just stop
will you breathe for a moment?
stop writing lists of what you have yet to do
turn down the radio, put your bills on hold
don't fret about these college degrees and potential promotions

will you just stop?
take some time, breathe the air that scares you
as if free time makes you high on some terrifying hallucinogenic drug
darling, take some time,
just think
look at the anthills, think of what's there
look up to the stars, imagine what's more

please, I beg you
just take a minute
to scare yourself to death
to appreciate life
to set aside all they tell you to believe, to be
if college and an office job is the life for you, live it
if not, don't let them tell you that's how it is to be
you are not a brick inlaid without potential for motion,
you are the Northern lights
you shine
you move
you dance, brighter than the darkness would allow

just take a moment
please just ask why
ask, why am i doing this?
why am i saying this?
why do i believe this?
why do i live like this?

and if the answers suit you, let it be
and if not, break out running like a deer who's escaped the trap

live. please do anything you can,
why not?

i hear you whisper my old tunes, like that dreaded broken record,
"what's the point of trying to be happy when we all end up dead anyways?"
dear, would you ever let a newborn pup in the fighting ring just because one day it will inevitably see its end?

darling you deserve the world,
it is yours
with the stars in the sky and the potential for life
with the ants and the termites, we are alive
we are but condensation waiting to make waves

my dear, just stop
just breathe for a minute
wondrous is the universe
let us be wondrous with it
annvelope Oct 2014
I don't know a lot of things
But,
I do know Life is good and serious.

So this morning I woke to the touch of a morning sun, softly teasing my eyes apart. I found the smile I thought I had missed. The first thing that came into my mind was the word 'grateful'. I am very grateful for my amazing family and friends and my wonderful cozy home. I’m also consistently thankful for the little things in life that remind me just how lucky I am. But at this moment, at this point, I just want to jot down everything that makes me feel thankful for having a powerful and strongest boyfriend in my life. You had no idea how this feeling blessed for the millionth time.

When I describe the perfect boyfriend I could have, I think of one I already had. Actually, to me perfectness in my eyes does exist. What I call perfect is my boyfriend Hedzmy. The first thing I noticed was his long wavy jet black hair and I was hooked (well not literally hooked at that time) because he wasn't my taste after all (maybe it's because of he is so Melayuish a.k.a typical malay guy). I'm constantly impressed with the ones who speaks very well in English. But, that was before. The longer I get to know him, the more I began to get bonded...and then I fell deeply in love with him. I don't even know how that happened.

Hedzmy is such an amazing guy, not that tall, smart, sensitive, he got the cutest smile, has a pair of beautiful very-dark brown eyes and a very unique hairstyle. He is the sweetest person you could ever meet. He wears nice clothing, he loves to dress preppy on some special occasions or either any day at times. An example of wearing preppy clothing will be a nice casual long sleeves shirt, nice printed T, slanted skinny pants, and nice high top Converse shoes. His favorite color is red, he loves good food and a good passion in photography. He plays guitar, eventhough it wasn't that good, but I just love watching him play and sing. Yet, you had no idea how much I love his voice.

I’ve been together with my boyfriend for 1 year. Hedzmy has been such a wonderful person to me. He has been there for me, cared for me and loved me like no one else ever had. Every time I’m not in a great mood, he always finds a way for me to smile and laugh and forget about the bad things. He has even got me going forward to a good path so I can make my dreams come true and so I can be the happiest person alive. But I’m happy as long as he is with me and is there for me. I may ******* things up a lot throughout our relationship, but it just happened and I didn't mean to hurt his feelings as well. I love my boyfriend so much and it scares me when I realized that for the first time in my entire life, I was really falling in love. Falling in love for who he is. He's amazing. Eventhough there were times I recalls when he tweeted about how he wish he could turn back time to save his previous relationship and so on, (that was like after we've been together for almost half of months), well it really breaks my heart. Imagine how someone sees you for the first time and telling you how much they want you to be with them but the fact is they still can't let go of the past? Painful isn't it? So I began to seek for attention by making a lot of friends with boys but none of them attracts me. It is because, I love my boyfriend. I just want to be with him. I have the guts to take him to see my parents. How I love seeing him tested by my mom to see if he could tolerate her.

Sometimes, in the beginning, and even still today, I’ll become untrusting and difficult, attacking out of nowhere. The naive trust that I had so long ago got used up and beaten up by the wrong person. But unlike that wrong person, when he used to attack for no reason, chase protects everything.

I had no goal in my life but to make him happy. I was in fear of loosing him, loosing this companionship between us. Loosing something I have placed so much effort into. Thus I had no confidence to speak up for 1 year, there was no sense of belonging, passion or safety. Just me thinking this is the best thing that had ever happened me, I won't be able to find anyone else and I didn't want to loose it, so I would do what ever it takes to protect it.

Many people say perfectness is nowhere to be found but in my world there is. Hedzmy is perfect, no matter of fact he is beyond perfect. He doesn’t see the perfect and amazing part in him but I do. Now, what makes me happy is his English is improving! And I am so glad I could help him bits by bits. Sometimes the little things in life mean the most, right?

Happy 1st Anniversary Sayang,
           I love you to the moon and back! **
nooneknoes Sep 2018
My suicide is something I've dreamed of for a while.
My suicide scares me because I do not know what is after.
My suicide is something I have attempted many times but failed.
My suicide is going to be a relief.
My suicide is selfish.
My suicide is going to be by blade to my wrist.
My suicide is a thought that soothes me.
My suicide is going to be hard for the people around me.
My suicide will eventually be forgotten.
My suicide seems blissful but horrible at the same time.









I hope my suicide is soon.
The unknown scares me.

The afterdeath,
who you are,
who I am,
and
who I will be.

It all scares the hell out of me.

Why we all live on the planet,
why I was born.

No one has the answers
Everything in my life has unknown reasons.

Death
human existence.
Why is there such a thing?
No one will ever know,
and it scares me.

Like I said,
the unknown scares me.

— The End —