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"subconcious" poems
All along my trigger was you and I can't stand it To this subconcious fear I light up and take a hit Tumbling forever I never thought this would quit Because I thought I could distinguish love from ********
0
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 8:56 AM UTC
Pull the Trigger on PTSD
Where I was, was bad, But where I am is worse. I feel like they’re taking away who I am, Filling my bloodstream with anti-depressants, Forcing me to become someone I’m not Someone I don’t want to be. The fact remains that my sadness defined me Struggling against the medication Desperately attempting to hold onto the part of me that’s me Wanting so badly for my days to mean something Instead of the same bland depressing schedule I face everyday The pills do nothing but supress my suicidal thoughts to my subconcious So I'm forced to fake a smile, one unlike any other. This one is to keep them from increasing my dosage, And I'm scared. I've never felt so alone This is what I get For asking for help
0
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
Anti-Depressants
One minute fine, The next minute not, It may be freezing cold, But my brain is boiling hot. The tingling sensation, And then the trembling starts, I cannot feel my legs, Yet how I feel my heart! The environment is spinning, The air is getting thin, No matter how fast I breathe, I cant get enough oxygen in. Things enter my mind, I try to force them out, But the harder I try, The more they come back and shout. I feel im going to faint, Im feeling so sick, I cannot run away, All my legs let me do is sit. My legs get weak and heavy, My brain doesnt know whats going on, Everything becomes something to fear, The floor, my clothes, hair... and so on. My mouth is dry like paper, My body is sweating yet cold, Where did all of this come from? Is this what its like to get old? My body feels frozen, But my brain is running around, Playing tricks on me, Where there is no danger to be found. Breathing exercises dont work Though they make sense normally, In the moment of panic - You lose all sense of reality. The images enter your mind, You try to force them out, But the harder you try, The more they refuse to get out. Everything becomes a danger, I will say one more time, Every object becomes a weapon, And slices through your mind. The nausea causes more panic, The panic responds with more nausea, What a horrific cycle, How to stop it I have no idea. ****** functions fail, The digestive system especially, But now your afraid of the toilet (!) Though you need it in a hurry. The trembling is so intense, The fear so intense, You struggle to make a call, Your mind and body losing control. Diazepam becomes your best friend, You'd worship it if you could, Its often there to save the day, ..Although at other times you just wish it would... The adrenal glands are to blame, Im not the Adrenalin rush kind, My adrenal glands are evil, How can they be so cruel and unkind?! I dont like my adrenal glands, Im an ***** donar - but if I die please be warned, DO NOT TAKE THE ADRENAL GLANDS, ...then again, with the right brain, they could be your friends? Its the "brain- adrenal gland" combination, Which is of the ********* kind, Perhaps if brain sent out the right signals, My adrenal glands might understand. There is a time and place for adrenalin, I have sampled many myself, But this is just not one of them... Yet - subconcious brain fears itself... That is it.....the brain "fears itself"...
0
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 8:16 PM UTC
In the Words of a Panic Attack
One minute fine, The next minute not, It may be freezing cold, But my brain is boiling hot. The tingling sensation, And then the trembling starts, I cannot feel my legs, Yet how I feel my heart! The environment is spinning, The air is getting thin, No matter how fast I breathe, I cant get enough oxygen in. Things enter my mind, I try to force them out, But the harder I try, The more they come back and shout. I feel im going to faint, Im feeling so sick, I cannot run away, All my legs let me do is sit. My legs get weak and heavy, My brain doesnt know whats going on, Everything becomes something to fear, The floor, my clothes, hair... and so on. My mouth is dry like paper, My body is sweating yet cold, Where did all of this come from? Is this what its like to get old? My body feels frozen, But my brain is running around, Playing tricks on me, Where there is no danger to be found. Breathing exercises dont work Though they make sense normally, In the moment of panic - You lose all sense of reality. The images enter your mind, You try to force them out, But the harder you try, The more they refuse to get out. Everything becomes a danger, I will say one more time, Every object becomes a weapon, And slices through your mind. The nausea causes more panic, The panic responds with more nausea, What a horrific cycle, How to stop it I have no idea. ****** functions fail, The digestive system especially, But now your afraid of the toilet (!) Though you need it in a hurry. The trembling is so intense, The fear so intense, You struggle to make a call, Your mind and body losing control. Diazepam becomes your best friend, You'd worship it if you could, Its often there to save the day, ..Although at other times you just wish it would... The adrenal glands are to blame, Im not the Adrenalin rush kind, My adrenal glands are evil, How can they be so cruel and unkind?! I dont like my adrenal glands, Im an ***** donar - but if I die please be warned, DO NOT TAKE THE ADRENAL GLANDS, ...then again, with the right brain, they could be your friends? Its the "brain- adrenal gland" combination, Which is of the ********* kind, Perhaps if brain sent out the right signals, My adrenal glands might understand. There is a time and place for adrenalin, I have sampled many myself, But this is just not one of them... Yet - subconcious brain fears itself... That is it.....the brain "fears itself"...
Continue reading...
77
Drifting somewhere between sleeping and waking life Dipping in and out of the fuzzy lake of my subconcious mind Straining to keep myself on the surface - losing grip, (here i go again) Waves a blue and white painted like the sky in that Van Gogh Starry Night. Paintied in thick blue tears and yellow splocthes of infinity. Snoring snaps me back to barely awake. Tripping up the stairs I make my way to my bed, Wrap my arms about my Love and let myself fall into Van Gogh's heavy tears
0
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
Falling Asleep At My Computer
Dreaming out my subconcious because I miss the idea of us. You were up high in my apartment tree, swinging side to side in a wooden seat. I called out your name but you didn't hear me-- Kept smiling at what you couldn't see. At another slumber sleep, I drove my car to your Murrieta home. Had a hundred friends in the back seat which meant I wasn't alone. I knew I had the means of a GPS which meant I didn't have to guess. Had my memory when I knew you best. ******* I swear I knew my way there. So why was I lost in some deja vu despair? Could no longer find my way to your home in the middle of the day. At another slumber feat, we walked hand in hand on the fashion island. You pushed me away in a tone replying to some big question with a No. And as you walked away from me in front of the crowd to see, I ran around the island weeping like a street drunkard. Sirens appeared to me-- offering sympathy at my dismay but I kept sulking in a haze. I dream out my subconcious because I miss the idea of us. Bang Bang
0
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 6:42 AM UTC
Grade-A Novance "9"
timeless motion in the direction of optimism grabs me by surprise as I    dream of long gone futures         raging forward into the past              always venturing into the rather                   wild parts of my subconcious after eternity we will be                                          leaving for the stars in                                    interesting fashion with really                                no time to waste on our seemingly                                                endless journey
0
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 11:09 AM UTC
to draw a line
on a crowded street, my surroundings begin to fade as everythings blur together, its reality which i evade gazing past people, off into space i imagine for a moment that i'm out of this place only to be brought back with the blink of an eye to the streets where the blurred silhouettes of people pass me by with a crowd that big, theres no room for indivduality i feel like a minuscule pebble lost at sea going with the flow i grasp at the air even though i know there is nothing there i'm lost but i dont want to be found shouting out but i dont make a sound diagnosing emotions without definitions longing for change yet clinging to repetition in search for solitude, being alone is not my goal giving up my freedom as a subconcious toll the darkness of reality mixes with the light of lies creating a mist that acts as my disguise
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Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 9:14 PM UTC
disguise
In a world of pesimism I am the messenger of optimism I'll break his clouded vision This is my only mission To show him that there still is good in existence I'll fight his in-mind resistance I must bring love back to his heart Before his subconcious falls completely apart There once was only one To see that this mission is done Now I am added to this mix Of voices, actions, and tricks To help part six with his goal To see that Steven doesn't turn cold I leave you all with this solemn promise I will pick up the peices, my name is Thomas
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May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 6:27 PM UTC
The Schizophrenic Diaries VII (Thomas)
My eyes are burning right now but the tears are empty inside fragile as glass they hit my cheek and they shatter into a million diamonds, WHY? must you always be the thorn that's painfully, stuck in, my side? and WHY? must you always betray me and promise me that you are shy or I should say innocent is there ever an end to the argument of the hemorrhage the hemorrhage of "I'm sorry I lied" I NEVER WANNA HEAR YOU AGAIN! HEAR YOU SAY "SORRY I LIED!" and now that I know who you've changed me to inside these shards of glass forever lost, haunt my wounds in my skin, and the deeper they sink the more they confirm its your pride. to add insult to injury they make me able to feel however its only temporary some would even call it some-times while my "face" is  left bleeding at the thought of how carefully designed the thought itself is to remind me how this is metacommunication, but i know you dont believe me, it really wasn't up to me, and you'll never leave me I swear it wasn't me! I swear it wasn't me! I swear it wasn't me! I swear it was all up to my MIND! MIND! MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIND! but i tried and my heart will break and subside, pouring and/or spilling like acid I swear it's just like the red sea except a crimson river filled with sin parted way way back, since biblical times. and you my dear will forever be men-a-cing menacing a thorn in my side forever a scar in the memory of forever a scar in the memory of my mind repeated over again so as to make sure that I will never find that the real reason why I can never decide is because you never wanted me to you only wanted happiness however, and as you walked away you said, "I'm sorry to you" you said, "I'm sorry i lied... we could spend forever pointing fingers ending up with nothing every single time you said two wrongs will never make a right" but there's no such thing as right and wrong there's only how you feel inside you said, "I'm sorry i lied... I'm sorry you  cried its just that I forgot to mention this one little aspect where i only care about me.. myself... and I. I!!!!!! I!!!!!! ME!, MYSELF!, AND I!!!!!!!!!
0
Apr 23, 2011
Apr 23, 2011 at 10:35 AM UTC
a subconcious defense mechanism..
My eyes are burning right now but the tears are empty inside fragile as glass they hit my cheek and they shatter into a million diamonds, WHY? must you always be the thorn that's painfully, stuck in, my side? and WHY? must you always betray me and promise me that you are shy or I should say innocent is there ever an end to the argument of the hemorrhage the hemorrhage of "I'm sorry I lied" I NEVER WANNA HEAR YOU AGAIN! HEAR YOU SAY "SORRY I LIED!" and now that I know who you've changed me to inside these shards of glass forever lost, haunt my wounds in my skin, and the deeper they sink the more they confirm its your pride. to add insult to injury they make me able to feel however its only temporary some would even call it some-times while my "face" is  left bleeding at the thought of how carefully designed the thought itself is to remind me how this is metacommunication, but i know you dont believe me, it really wasn't up to me, and you'll never leave me I swear it wasn't me! I swear it wasn't me! I swear it wasn't me! I swear it was all up to my MIND! MIND! MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIND! but i tried and my heart will break and subside, pouring and/or spilling like acid I swear it's just like the red sea except a crimson river filled with sin parted way way back, since biblical times. and you my dear will forever be men-a-cing menacing a thorn in my side forever a scar in the memory of forever a scar in the memory of my mind repeated over again so as to make sure that I will never find that the real reason why I can never decide is because you never wanted me to you only wanted happiness however, and as you walked away you said, "I'm sorry to you" you said, "I'm sorry i lied... we could spend forever pointing fingers ending up with nothing every single time you said two wrongs will never make a right" but there's no such thing as right and wrong there's only how you feel inside you said, "I'm sorry i lied... I'm sorry you  cried its just that I forgot to mention this one little aspect where i only care about me.. myself... and I. I!!!!!! I!!!!!! ME!, MYSELF!, AND I!!!!!!!!!
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90
It's raining And I Want You The rain makes me overly sentimental, adding its ten drops worth to my ocean... Nostalgia swells up; a monolithic wave of sadness and fractured memories The borders imposed on my heart rebounds the lapping tongues of melancholy and send them back towards the centre towards Me Me; the centre of my own world The Centre of my ocean Frail ratty rafts of values drift brokenly across my ocean The cracks in my character screech like strained metal; shouting at me that I'm sinking them I'm sinking the morals and values that merge to form Me Me; the centre of my own world The Centre of my ocean The aquatic depths house the monsters of my mind The Subconscious apparitions so large that a stirring of their serrated spines change the flow of my polluted basement of an ocean The flow of my subconcious stinks stagnantly It results in the drifting away of me from Me Me; the centre of my world The Centre of my ocean It's drizzling And I want you
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Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC
Me; The Centre of my madness
I hate dreams. I hate them for what they make me see, Worse still is that even as you know their not real, You believe and it seems, If only for a second, that what could be or should be, Or what simply isn't, Is. I hate seeing her face, So sad under those shades; Take me home, She seems to say, But nobody really talks in dreams. But nobody really talks. I died in a dream once. And I kept on sleeping. What does it mean, what does it mean? To me death is one long dreamless sleep, But I fear the opposite, that it is one sleepless dream. I see his face now and then. The face in real life I barely remember. Under the water. Calling up. Save me. But dreams can't change your world. Tragically they can only make you believe. My moms there waiting for me. Though her alone I am too scared to see. Even my subconcious knows not to tease me, Knows the scars and the pain, And how it would bleed me and end me And I curse them from keeping me, I hate dreams.
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Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 4:29 AM UTC
Dreams
It feels like dreaming, When he sheds the lies, And bleeds the colours, Of truth, A dream imprinted, Permanently etched, In my subconcious, That settles on the surface, Above any and every other moment, The perfection, Of honest imperfection, So sincere and delicate, Is all I ever needed
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Mar 6, 2011
Mar 6, 2011 at 8:41 PM UTC
The Perfection of Honest Imperfection
amber lips are getting too red. the cat's eyes are getting too cloudy. the scratches in the wood paneling are getting too deep & the church bell that you can hear from the mountains is getting too loud. the stack of pillows on my desk chair is about to fall over, & the neighbors are getting too high. the molding is getting too cracked. the paint is getting too faded & my screams are getting too quiet.
0
Aug 14, 2010
Aug 14, 2010 at 9:11 AM UTC
subconcious break & crumble
as i was indoors with nobody around locked myself inside my room everything was still not even a sound of the wind blowing There comes this noise out of dead silence a flash back a glimce of my past and future my present i was shorked and started talking to my subconcious the noice came again out of dead silence i heard your voice saying "I LOVE U" and "WHERE ARE YOU SANDILE" i took my purple note book which i we wrote about all our things and came across our special song the lyrics wrote by me and you the song came out of thin air and started playing in my head by then i knew that i was making a huge mistake looking at your pictures after then paralised me  i was frighten in a coner then there comes this noise out of dead silence saying "I LOVE YOU"
0
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
DEAD SILENCE
the middle of the night shallow restless sleep a singularly wild idea occurs but sleep spawned revelations from the subconcious wither and die of ridicule at dawn
0
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME
I sleep to dream the strange obscure odd the close calm clash of skin the beauty built memories the expression of my fears the faces distant in reality the hopes projections life I dream to live in ignorant bliss on tragic days in senarios built far beyond truth in all i need power control in glorious homes white regal in dank rooms gyms banquets in your his thier arms minds I live to escape where explanations unjudged where brief unfolds to clarity where confidence subconcious lies I escape to lucidity I am in control
0
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
I sleep to dream
Slipping, I am slipping, Beyond the safety, Of the surface, Sinking, Into the weightlessness, Of transparent blue-green, That consumes me, And I drown, With you, In my subconcious
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Feb 26, 2011
Feb 26, 2011 at 2:05 PM UTC
With You In My Subconcious
I woke up today, Wanting to cry, If only I could get her back, My subconcious mind cant help but try, and dream of ways to make my dream come true, But every time it happens, I wake up wanting to die, I'll never get her back, I know, It wouldn't work even if I did, I guess that is the ultimate sign of failure, Abandoning the love of your life, Every time you wake up.
0
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 3:35 PM UTC
Waking up
you always said everything was black and white so why do your words bleed orange sunsets in to my black lungs my dad used to crash his cars for fun, he used to have competitions to see how many times he could roll his car, and it's been years since he's been in an accident but sometimes i can still see him speed up and i wonder if he misses the thrill or if he just can't break the habit. when we do things long enough we can never really get rid of them even when we're not thinking about it, our subconcious does all the work that's what it's like to love you i dont even have to remember to i just do you are the last three seconds of a sunset frozen in forever, you are in my veins.
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Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
it's all just sunsets, car crashes and black and white
I don't believe I want you, But my subconcious begs to differ. My body seems to yearn for you, When i've ingested too much liquor. I deny it when I'm sober, and say it was the drink, But this mindset is recurring, And it's starting to make me think.
0
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
Drunk
And the clock ticks. The ever steady click, Of the red hand as it twitches. Unless that clock is digital. Either way my strain is physical. Once again the train is missed to go, Off to the land of subconcious flow. Where a dream is a dream and whats known is known. Not here where logic is blown away. And yet its here im doomed to stay, As the clock continues to tick. That ever steady click. That click that makes me sick! Oh how i wish that tick would go away! It wont untill i fall asleep. But i cannot my thoughts are deep. And so i lay without a peep and listen as it ticks.
0
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 9:36 PM UTC
Insomnia.
Events take turn beyond our knowledge and control We are enslavered to perceptions within our soul Whom choose to perceive us in different ways From minutes to seconds, from hours to days We must learn to live with open hearts and arms With a childs freedom and graceful charms Choose who you really want to be With guidance from the world you see Angels shall be with you in everything So in a lone concert, they hear you sing Let your subconcious play its own way till the end of time and night of day.
0
Oct 24, 2009
Oct 24, 2009 at 11:37 AM UTC
Night of Day
//I swear I just have the same subconcious pattern every time with just waiting when I'm bordering extinction -- like maybe on someone throwing a lifesaver ? *I'm literally someone's-accidental-bumping away from falling off this escarpment, A selcouth flower-drenched meadow just last week, now all-of-the-sudden barren and pretty grim plateau* ***On the edge of extinction, Do you retreat, or put up your last fight?*** *I feel an urge to dismiss all and jump off the edge. Besides, Extinction is probably the name of our parellel realm. and they probabaly say* "be careful! you're on the edge of Reality."__//__ But that’s just a lone-sweet picturesque visualization from my esteemed friend, Imagination. Sadly, yes, everything just mentioned was just daydreams occuring while sparking others’ sangfroid. ***So when this little Miss Cure-Chaser finally gets a breath-*** n it’s honestly usually more like half; I realize that I just gave out the last drop of my spirit’s nature to a stranger when I realize this, I also see that no one paid heed to the healer in need of healing bastardized by the Real-Life Nightmare of Californication I forget the grace residing in my survival; When I’m all dished out, When healing’s lost my fervor, Scorching my lovely Fylgja. Meanwhile my soul’s alongside taking it’s toll, it’s Californication. I throw on my once-was, back of the closet Hot Mess resolution a Way-Too-Tight black dress And a shoe-like lace up back. I turn to the mirror, and as I wink I say **** it. It’s Californication, and I’m its ******* Counterrevolution.
0
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 1:09 AM UTC
Hot Mess Revival
//I swear I just have the same subconcious pattern every time with just waiting when I'm bordering extinction -- like maybe on someone throwing a lifesaver ? *I'm literally someone's-accidental-bumping away from falling off this escarpment, A selcouth flower-drenched meadow just last week, now all-of-the-sudden barren and pretty grim plateau* ***On the edge of extinction, Do you retreat, or put up your last fight?*** *I feel an urge to dismiss all and jump off the edge. Besides, Extinction is probably the name of our parellel realm. and they probabaly say* "be careful! you're on the edge of Reality."__//__ But that’s just a lone-sweet picturesque visualization from my esteemed friend, Imagination. Sadly, yes, everything just mentioned was just daydreams occuring while sparking others’ sangfroid. ***So when this little Miss Cure-Chaser finally gets a breath-*** n it’s honestly usually more like half; I realize that I just gave out the last drop of my spirit’s nature to a stranger when I realize this, I also see that no one paid heed to the healer in need of healing bastardized by the Real-Life Nightmare of Californication I forget the grace residing in my survival; When I’m all dished out, When healing’s lost my fervor, Scorching my lovely Fylgja. Meanwhile my soul’s alongside taking it’s toll, it’s Californication. I throw on my once-was, back of the closet Hot Mess resolution a Way-Too-Tight black dress And a shoe-like lace up back. I turn to the mirror, and as I wink I say **** it. It’s Californication, and I’m its ******* Counterrevolution.
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38
Oh how the mighty have fallen, Fallen from their self proclaimed heights Built upon cracked and half crumbling foundations. And I stand before myself to gawk at the pitiful sight. A shameful disposition amid the rubble, self admission. How wise I was before! How wise was I before? Beg I ask myself, knowing of course the answer. Not wise, not wise at all. But did I see it coming? Could I predict my own end? Had I knowledge but chose to pretend? Perhaps... Somehow I feel another me. Beside the Crumbled and the Gawker. The old, outspoken, grey-bearded me Stands there and shakes his head. He knew all along it would come to this, said all along. And all along I did ignore. Pretended not to hear, but somehow heard. Knew he was there, probably right, but I didn't care. Deep in my subconcious mind did these inner me's converse In a place outside of time, outside of space. Somehow I recognise these words I told myself. The unhealed man should not choose to build upon himself. Time can not heal the wounds hidden from the light Hidden out of sight. Left, to be an empty space Covered over, but not erased. Never erased But soon forgotten, until the Time of Rumbling We all have such holes I know. All have built upon ourselves and forgotten (or ignored) That lies and misdeads lie beneath us, Holding us up as we reach always higher. Because of time, we have no time. Because of fear, we have such fear! We choose to build upon ourselves, Not to heal, not to see whats clear. But our future has long been spoken of, By that older, white bearded self Who, all knowing but outspoken, Warns us of our doom. So I urge you, as a crumbled man, As a man gawking upon his crumbled self, To tend to your soul, to resolve your wrongs, Before building once more yourself. To be healthy in pureness of pure exsistence. To breath fresh air of honesty and truth honestly, And to reach for selfless love, self-lovingly. Then and only then, is it right to build again.
0
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 6:10 AM UTC
The Mighty
Oh how the mighty have fallen, Fallen from their self proclaimed heights Built upon cracked and half crumbling foundations. And I stand before myself to gawk at the pitiful sight. A shameful disposition amid the rubble, self admission. How wise I was before! How wise was I before? Beg I ask myself, knowing of course the answer. Not wise, not wise at all. But did I see it coming? Could I predict my own end? Had I knowledge but chose to pretend? Perhaps... Somehow I feel another me. Beside the Crumbled and the Gawker. The old, outspoken, grey-bearded me Stands there and shakes his head. He knew all along it would come to this, said all along. And all along I did ignore. Pretended not to hear, but somehow heard. Knew he was there, probably right, but I didn't care. Deep in my subconcious mind did these inner me's converse In a place outside of time, outside of space. Somehow I recognise these words I told myself. The unhealed man should not choose to build upon himself. Time can not heal the wounds hidden from the light Hidden out of sight. Left, to be an empty space Covered over, but not erased. Never erased But soon forgotten, until the Time of Rumbling We all have such holes I know. All have built upon ourselves and forgotten (or ignored) That lies and misdeads lie beneath us, Holding us up as we reach always higher. Because of time, we have no time. Because of fear, we have such fear! We choose to build upon ourselves, Not to heal, not to see whats clear. But our future has long been spoken of, By that older, white bearded self Who, all knowing but outspoken, Warns us of our doom. So I urge you, as a crumbled man, As a man gawking upon his crumbled self, To tend to your soul, to resolve your wrongs, Before building once more yourself. To be healthy in pureness of pure exsistence. To breath fresh air of honesty and truth honestly, And to reach for selfless love, self-lovingly. Then and only then, is it right to build again.
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49
its no coincidence that he only holds me when he's asleep.
0
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
subconcious truth