The Society and The IndividualI was born independent and the biggest mistake I ever made was falling into the arms of society. Free will has become an option, and that is where we have all lost ourselves. You can either choose to live, or avoid the things you will never know by experiencing things at your own discretion.
We are the creator of our own lives.
And Tonight My Prayer Was XIIIAnd tonight my prayer was:And Tonight My Prayer Was XIII5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
You once asked me: "Why do you look to the ground when you walk?"
"So I can see where I am treading." I said. "Why do you look to the sky?" I, equally bemused.
With a smile you reply "So I can see where I'm going."
Nothing VictoriousI saw a new universe begin with a dream,Nothing Victorious5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there was no one else around to notice the difference;
The others, having followed pied pipers for years,
remained motionless, as they had been processed
and were now all plastic icons of Jesus, resting on pallets,
ready to be shipped to China.
They screamed, uttered "Mama," and sometimes
shouted obscenities at the Holy Father,
while in the distance, the occasional bleats of
black sheep told me to stop counting my
blessings and begin noticing the near future.
I looked and saw a white horse, and sitting on
its back was Nothing.
And Nothing told me about his plan:
Nothing will bring order, Nothing will erase our history,
Nothing will make us forget all we've done, and learned.
I climbed on the white horse, and I rode away
with Nothing, heading toward the sunset, where I,
along with Hatred, Bigotry, Greed, Pride, and so on,
perished with the final setting of the sun,
following to the east, the dawn of humanity.
We Are Prostitutes And JunkiesThe ribbon binding our cervical ribs togetherWe Are Prostitutes And Junkies5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is resolved fire and
quantum mechanics wrapped in beat-one-egg-until-fluffy.
Cut your teeth on my frightened way of life,
point fingers at the spiders in my closet,
I told you
together we could divide the universe by zero
and find the answer in the rubble.
But I was too delirious
to write down the name on my night-stand,
so I might have been wrong.
Forewarning was rolled off my shoulders
and picked up by the orphans
who wanted to have a life,
and yesterday I found
why I must listen.
are no more entrancing than my sighs, you said.
The sway of her fiending lusts
held no ground, you said.
But I told you poets never find
Strangers tell me I should eat more,
the world is not nearly as revolting as I write it;
I told you the sun would swallow us up one day
and you asked
what became of my opium laced assumptions.
Becoming InhumanI want to scream in colours.Becoming Inhuman5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My words would be painted in blood;
your blood to be exact.
Every vulgar, unfaithful ounce of it,
But you'd bleed for anyone.
You'd die for anyone
You knew this was sacred.
Bodies maimed and desecrated
But when I cut into the skin,
It was no suprise to find
Wires had replaced your veins.
Death.It took some timeDeath.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To convince myself
That you don't exist.
The sadness that secretly consumed you.
Everything that made you,
The fear in your eyes,
The cuts on your body,
Hands clenched, gasping for air while
The drugs soared through your veins;
All of that was real?
The smile that could span miles,
The glazed eyes that told so many stories,
The creative mind that once captivated the world
And all that's left are the memories
That torture, consume and, on occasion,
Bring joy to my mind.
It's all surreal,
But I'm beginning to believe it's true.
You're forever in my memory;
But I've come to accept the fact
That you don't exist.
100ThemesChallenge - DarkDoesn't everything seem more real in black and white photos? That's because the world's losing it's colour.100ThemesChallenge - Dark5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
a little bita little bit of red in your cheeksa little bit5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you'll never know how much you mean to me
a little bit of blonde in your hair
you'll never know how much i'd like to be there
a little bit of a skip in your walk
you'll never know how my heart flutters when you talk
a little bit of warmth in your voice
you'll never understand how loving you was less than a choice
a little bit of sun on our skin
you'll never know how i could never love again
a little bit of a smile when we kiss
you'll never remember how much we felt bliss
a little bit of affection in your eyes
you'll never know what its like to see you kiss other guys
a little bit of the night in your arms
you'll never understand that without you my world would be more than harmed
a little bit of the night on my own
you'll never know what i feel like alone
a little bit of stars in the sky
you'll never know that i'll miss you, until i die
The WordsIt started softly at first. Little words and instances, and small betrayals that left questions sticking in her mind like needles. Words that hit her skin like stones, leaving bruises that spread and scarred and left fear in their wake, words that kept her up at night.The Words3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Who I am? What am I doing here? And who are you?
The words start tumbling faster now, and come with twisted expressions of anger, bitterness, resentment and blame. It's taking her back to her childhood; the memories of disquiet and fear and always, always the blame. It's taking her back to the fear of speaking, the fear of being touched, ever. The fear of meeting someone's eyes. There is only anger around her. An atmosphere weighed down by secrets and the blush of blood rising into skin. And inside, nothing but emptiness and the echoes of something deeper, something that will never be undone.
There is a stranger asleep beside me. Someone I no longer understand, who no longer understands me. I am afraid of their
Hospital Collection: NamelessThere's an anorexic patient with meHospital Collection: Nameless6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
in the mental health ward.
I've never heard her speak
or touch her lips
to the plastic hospital food.
Her skull is wrapped in
the alien fingers of
a pale feeding tube.
And I wonder if she's still
the keeper of her soul.
Her wrists are as frail as
the silver threads
of delicate spider webs.
Her skin is fragile
I've never heard her speak
or touch her lips.
She's just another patient
(without a name).
Her eyes are lifeless,
And I wonder what that makes
who sees only
100ThemesChallenge - LoveDespite what people may think, not all guys wants a stick thin barbie doll with a fake smile and dull eyes. I like girls who curve. Girls who when you put your arms around her, feel like they fit perfectly against your chest, not like you're hugging a stick. Homely girls. The ones that wear soft cotton shirts and sweaters, and have a warm smile and eyes you can get lost in. The ones that walk around with a smudge of flour or toothpaste or paint on their shirt all day because they haven't noticed or just don't care. The ones whose apple-vanilla smell you could recognise from across the room, but still never becomes mundane. The ones who, when you curl up with her, no matter where you may be, it feels like Home.100ThemesChallenge - Love5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
RelapseShe breathes inRelapse7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the light refracts
like Heroin murder.
(Im tripping down
every blade of grass)
overdosing on oxygen
in the cool summer morning.
like hailstones falling
bruising her body
an assault in every drop.
(The vapour fills my lungs
with soft water
With every step
her bones break
like soft glass
(Im so afraid).
she bites her lip
(until it bleeds)
And goes into cardiac arrest.
Disturbed PoetryAlexa asks me about psychosis and what it feels like.Disturbed Poetry4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She says listening to me scream
before the nurses put me in solitary
was like hearing beautifully disturbed poetry.
OverflowingI swallowOverflowing6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
600mg of sanity
in a cold clear glass
with liquid memory
and hydrogen voices
filling the space
between each breath.
As the medication
sinks into my soul
the delusions gently vanish
leaving only echoes
and the fingerprints
of madness on my skin.
The chemicals wash over me
in calming waves
until I see the world
in a softer light
under the same sky.
It's like breathing underwater;
everything is quiet
If My Life is BeautifulThey say suicide is evil, but I always thought it was selfless that I would make myself disappear so that others could live. Theyd find relief and be free, without the threat of me hanging over their heads. My existence was what was evil it was meaningless and selfish. I was sick, and had to be cared for every waking moment. My mother once said that she felt as though I was holding the family hostage falling deeper and deeper into illness, making everyone fear leaving me alone, and fear being near me. I never told her that I was been held hostage in my own skin, trapped somewhere in the endless void of my broken mind, while the disease took over my soul like a virus. Infection, infection.If My Life is Beautiful7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It made me sad to realize that Ive spent most of my life in therapy, living between sessions. Holding onto empty pill bottles as though medication would be my salvation. Time doesnt exist in my head. I remember almost nothing of my days, just the endless fight to
Stories From the Psych Ward (2 of 3)I'm so cold I feel it down to the bones,Stories From the Psych Ward (2 of 3)4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sitting in the dining hall trembling
over my cup of tea. A huge Christmas
tree twinkles merrily beside me in red, blue, silver, pink and gold.
Patients huddle together outside to talk,
but I'm forbidden to join them,
trapped inside the ward on a category four.
They're all strangers to me, I've spoken to no one.
Smoking their cigarettes in faded pajamas,
looking tired and worn down,
lips twisting into smiles as the smoke
curls down into their lungs.
Nurses find me hiding from evil spirits in the cupboard.
They let me stay inside, safe until the panic stops and
the shadows disappear, give me blankets
to stay warm, until they take me by the hand and lead me out.
Two psychiatrists come to speak with me
While insects pour from my lips
And satellites speak of the death of stars
The voices scream at me
But I talk.
They want me to trust them
They want me to stay alive.
A nurse takes six canisters of my blood,
a deep frothy red. It pours out of my
The Former And The LatterI want to have a child, who asks me what war was.The Former And The Latter5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Mermaid Bones - a beat poemTRIGGER WARNING: Sexual assault and eating disordersMermaid Bones - a beat poem3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Mermaid Bones - a beat poem.
I'm hiding an ocean of teeth under my scales
it's in the forbidden taste of salt on my tongue
the weight of the measuring tape,
of those numbers pushing bubbles through my blood and through my gums.
It's written on the circumference of my waist.
In the words cursing the ghost ship of my shape being plundered against my will.
It's spoken by the fish telling me that I have no right to fill my gills with oxygen
underneath a sea bed of regret laid heavy with the shape of a tail.
You are a whale they said
and they made me push my bones out to see the fish bones that they could wish on
to beach myself on the sand reaching for a reason to say "no"
I will not make sandcastles out of sandwiches, and pick at the entrails of the jellyfish noodles on my plate on the first date with puberty that said
"you will now be endowed with an oyster set with strings of pearls that hang heavy round your throat like a
How to Forget.I think the high is setting inHow to Forget.5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Because the lights aren't any dimmer
But I can't see you.
My eardrums are still in tact
But I can't hear you.
And I'm in no state to judge my mentality,
But I can at least hope that I'm not going insane.
Lunatical MurkReality flows in and out-a ghostlyLunatical Murk6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Mother peeking in at her feverish child
Through the walls of the dark nursery.
Dreams take over slowly, gaining
Power over the dreamer, who fears
The nightmare the truth has become.
Flights of fantasy grow longer
And landings are brief and terrifying-
Crashes down on life's trampoline runways.
Life itself is fleeting, fleeing
From the mind's own intoxicating
Tactile sensations tether breaths
Between gasps of bizarre visions
Choking loudly, louder than fact.
Darkness never comes, for light,
Albeit at the end of a tunnel,
Dances in the icy eyes of insanity.
The dumbing down of loveface stained, just as well as the heartThe dumbing down of love5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
things have been turning out all wrong
leaving the lover alone without love
under the knife
"remove my heart! i don't want it without him!"
ardor, slipped away at the seams
all when you thought that your love
was the center of all that ever meant anything
choking on the instant escape
that he left you
you are lost.
your limbs, jello, giving way
to the weight that's heavy in your heart
collapsing your vocal cords so you
no longer have to speak what
It's all over us.In the end it's nothing, just another flaw to judge you by when you die. It's like the devil is taking tallies of the things you felt and did and is plotting them against you in your final resting hour.It's all over us.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Some enjoy living in the shadows.. under that ever pouring gray sky. Deeper and deeper into the chaos and darkness.. until we get so caught up in hurting, that all that's left of us is cold flesh and empty eyes.
Friend. I've see this look before, so clearly in the mirror. I can't say I didn't enjoy the pain. But oh those moments when gray was my favorite color.. I couldn't help but to add some red for dramatics.
Maybe it's the artist in me, couldn't stop the perfect angle, couldn't stop the madness inside from boiling over. Still plotting against the raging twisted emotions inside.
Say friend, is this the final hour? When I can't stop to see you trying to smile.. when I can't stop to try and smile back? What time is this that disillusions and mist implore and raging winds cast us ashore
Epinephrine WhisperI bleed fearEpinephrine Whisper6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and breathe paralysis
drug myself into sanity
and drip with the rain
every drop a thought
falling out of my soul
and tripping out of my brain.
I crawl screaming and sobbing
to the phone
and listen for hours to
the white noise of
the static dial tone.
My fingers shake
as I call
the crisis hotline
child youth mental health team.
she doesn't know
she doesn't know
she doesn't know
I don't have a
I don't have a
My therapist isn't here today.
"Sorry. Would you like to leave a
I hang up
bite my hands
until they bleed
and bang my head against the floor
again and again
I dial the number
Ask for the psychiatrist
that saw me at the hospital.
He's on break.
He'll be coming back
in an hour.
there's no time.
I'll be dead by then.
I need to talk to someone.
She doesn't tell me
to hold on,
she doesn't keep
Statement of ReasonSanity is the equal battle between logic and feelings, at which none becomes the victor. Insanity is the point at which one of the parties in the battle is beyond reproach.Statement of Reason5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
InstantUnder the suffocating lights of the dance floorInstant6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
and the overwhelming heat,
another stranger asks me for a dance.
He whispers his name in my hair
but I don't have a
and I don't want to know.
and you lose your soul.
and I don't know how I feel.
I feel -
His hands are on my hips
and he's too close
lips pressed against my cheek.
He touches my hair,
Tells me that I'm beautiful.
Runs gentle fingernails
over my back
and tries to speak.
a light off in
He kisses my hands,
and I can't react.
Everything feels like
a long way away.
When the music slows,
he pushes me to the wall
and whispers that if
I answer a riddle,
he'll kiss me.
I can't hear it,
but I smile anyway,
and want to laugh.
It's like a bad movie script
with the smoke
and pick-up lines.
Two people hooking up in a club.
So achingly normal.
And I've done it before.
But I'm not normal.
I'm a tale