.what doesn't kill you.4 days ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
comes back with something stronger
to finish the job
-she knew he was a grave, but she buried herself in him anyway.-2 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
.you break free.3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
from the grip of
just to die in
the arms of the shore
never become a writeri.never become a writer.never become a writer1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
you will become a perfectionist,
picking life apart
with a magpie's eye,
hunting for the beautiful bits
until you can make yourself
a sparkling throne
in the center of a junkyard.
ii.you will write when you're sad.
you will write when you're happy.
whenever you feel something,
you will vomit the emotion out
into some sort of literature.
when you're finished,
you'll be empty
and surrounded by
pages and pages of
everything you once were.
iii.you will try to make
pain sound delicious,
painting over the ragged wounds
with pink paint
and candy-coat lies.
you will learn
how to decorate graveyards.
everyone will play in them,
but you alone will see the headstones.
iv.if you fall in love,
you will turn your love into a poem,
and you will always like your own words
more than you like the real person.
you'll become so selfish
you'll disgust yourself,
but you will not be ab
.i said death,.2 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
death is a closet;
let's all just hang
ourselves up and keep
the place tidy -
A message to the brokenYou drown yourselfA message to the broken1 week ago in Free Verse More Like This
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
RelapseHere we go again.Relapse3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
Another panic attack,
Just when I thought I was done.
Well, ain’t it fun,
To be a nervous wreck?
Only I’m a big kid now.
To be the resident
When you’re not beautiful.
God, I sound emo.
And so maybe I am
(by definition, at least)
But I feel like a sham –
What am I to you?
Would you care
If I lived out my dark little fantasies?
Got swallowed by the dark seas,
Of my soul?
Would you care
If I went back to the blade
That you forbade
Me to seek solace in?
If you knew what went on in my head,
A million different ways
To make me dead,
Would you tell me to just
‘Not feel down’ anymore?
If I could stop feeling this way,
Stop thinking like this?
I'm sorry I never loved youI'm sorryI'm sorry I never loved you2 weeks ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I'm sure you want
that to mean alot of things
but in truth it means one
I'm sorry I never loved you
not in the way
you would've wanted me to
not in the way you needed me to,
I'm sorry I loved the ideal
of you and me
the wonderful beauty that
be birthed from our attractions
more than I loved the person
within that fantasy.
I'm sorry I forced
the delusion of perfection
upon you and held
you to those
of my selfish imagination.
I'm sorry that I placed
the necessity of us
above the desires of you.
that I wasn't the guy you deserved
and that I wasted my few chances
with someone as wonderful as you.
I'm sorry I never loved you
till you were already gone.
DifferenceTo be lonely is painful,Difference3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
To be alone is liberating.
Mental HospitalI got locked away today,Mental Hospital1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
In a dark and lonely place.
Locked inside a small white room,
Where all light is erased.
This is the place the unwanted are sent,
When they give up reality.
When nobody wants us around anymore,
They send us here, you see?
There is a guard outside my door,
I hear keys locked on his hips.
I scream and yell to be set free,
But his concentration never slips.
I'm trapped here in this room,
Im trapped in this small box.
There are bars on one small window,
And the door has many locks.
All of my hope is lost,
All my dreams are fading.
I hear a noise outside;
The nurses are invading.
I hear patients screaming,
As they open up the doors.
I hear them fight and struggle.
I hear bangs along the floors.
Then I hear a "tick"
And a twist of a small key.
I sit alone in terror,
They're coming after me!
Two ladies walk right in,
They try to hold me down.
That is when one lady,
Stuck a hand right up my gown.
She stuck a needle in my rear,
Suddenly I felt real jaded.
I tried to fig
CryingBaby cries for the mommyCrying1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
Boy cries for the attention
Teen cries for the confusion
Man cries for the reality
Senior cries for the regret
Deceased cries for the living
No matter who we are
Powerful or weak
Happy or depressed
Rich or poor
Popular or alone
We all weep together
One way or another
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moonIt's Okay to be Imperfect6 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
Regrets of a Guardian AngelGod told me to hold her.Regrets of a Guardian Angel3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
He didn't say;
"closer than most"
"handle with care"
After all, it is my profession to protect.
But when I saw her,
saw those bright blue eyes...
..and soft blond curls;
I did it like He had said so anyway.
They named her soul
and called it love.
But she was different,
and they didn't like it.
When she was five,
her 'mama' tore that pretty
blonde hair out by the roots and there was nothing I could do.
Because she told me not to.
At ten, her 'daddy' kicked her
down the stairs and out onto the veranda.
Because she was holding hands with a boy.
I caught her as best I could...
...but I could not catch her shattered soul.
Fifteen came by like clockwork,
and the girls were cruel and called her ugly.
They feared her prettiness
so they burned her mind with meanness
and shattered her internal mirror forever.
At eighteen, the boy she loved
took her innocence because he feared it.
Six months later he walked out the door
he never came back.
Twenty came, an
EyesThey told me not to look,Eyes1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
But I always do.
I can't help it you know?
Their eyes are so beautiful...
Each one shines with a colour from the rainbow.
Some are green, some are blue.
You might even find a set of gold amongst the lot.
Some of them shine like pearls,
Others twinkle like stars in the sky.
Each one holds a fragile soul,
Each one has its own sense of depth.
And so, I always end up looking into their eyes...
Right before I blink mine and I firmly squeeze the trigger...
I love... and hate being a writerI hate being a writerI love... and hate being a writer2 weeks ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
yet I love it too
though such ambiguous feelings
cannot be explained so simply...
I loathe the unsterilized ink
which continually poisons my veins
and pumps from an all too emotional heart
yet when this ink is set free
breathed from my syringe of a quill
I'm assailed by such a breathtaking sense
of relief and release that I forget
and become intoxicated on my own vile.
I abhor my blank eyes
which so incoherently delude me
as to what is real
that I am faced continually
with the realization that reality
will never be enough for me
and yet these blank eyes are the same
on which I paint such beautiful fantasies
and experiences which I faithfully adore.
I detest the imagination
which hosts menial plays with
unwritten roles and spitfire lines
and asks me to fill the holes
.green children.2 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
up and out
of their beds -
the sun smiles,
and reaches down
to embrace them
drowning with himthere’s this boy i work with.drowning with him1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
he is five.
he wears long sleeves
and shorts with holes in them
that are only kept together with
small clothespins and thin threads.
his hair is always cut close
to his skin, though his bangs are left
just long enough so it covers his eyes
and i know no one can see them.
but i always watch him.
only sometimes i will allow myself
to watch over someone else, even though i know
this boy will only continue to follow me.
he asks me to play,
he asks me to speak,
and sometimes, he even asks me
to hold his hand.
they are always cold and strong,
with calluses and chipped nails
that dig rough into my skin,
and his voice is always hard ice,
roaring like pounding hail through a storm.
but most of the time, he fights.
he hurts the other boys. they are small
and they fight over pieces of chalk,
over shovels and pales and who gets to play
on the swings, but they throw punches
like i’ve seen adults do.
sometimes i look at them
and i see the ripple of muscle,
Have You Been Writing Lately?I have dishevelled hair so I shave itHave You Been Writing Lately?3 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
To the scalp and to the point that I bleed
I no longer want to write my thoughts down
So I’ll try anything to set them free
It is not my pen that is the problem
And my fountain of ink has not run dry
I’m not experiencing writers block
These thoughts are twisted and I don’t know why
I have a multitude of memories
That my mind chooses to manipulate
In to more disturbing scenarios
That only the wicked ones can relate
If I cant find purity within me
Why do I bother to write anymore
Like a lost soul that is tired of life
Maybe death is something I should explore
I have always walked amongst the shadows
Where all the demons that you gave me lurk
But the death of my body will set me free
And illuminate my body of work
I have a creative mind but I abused it
At which point my sanity began to disperse
What is this gift of writing that I hear
All I have ever felt from this is cursed
.i remember the spring.1 week ago in Free Verse More Like This
when you did not grow
and our arms unfurled
for no one
Angel or DemonEstos ojos te miran así como si la noche te mirara hoy…Angel or Demon2 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
Mujer divina, para dicha de mí ser el haberte encontrado; mujer preciosa, para mis tristezas el que tú solo me hayas mirado.
Tú y yo compartimos mi alma al encontrarnos, pero entonces nos quedamos yo vacío y tú sin mí.
El objeto vil de mi pasión sublime… Secretamente voy tocando esa parte de ti a la que le he puesto un nombre.
¿Por qué atesoro los hechizos que has puesto sobre mi alma ya sedienta?
De noche, alguna parte de mí camina enloquecida buscando más razones de las que tiene para olvidarte, y luego seguir amándote.
¿Habrá en tu corazón solo lodo y veneno? ¿O serás la rosa bella en mi edén perpetuo?
Tengo pánico de olvidarme de ti en poco tiempo… porque quisiera quererte cuando menos dos vidas con infinito tiempo…
Siempre estorban tantas cosas, a ti y a mí nos estorba una sola: tu deseo.