we aren't well-written.i can envision time fluxing backwards:More Like This
words snuffed, swallowing dreams,
choking on the catatonic fear that
you just might love someone a bit
more than you love me.
maybe if i destroy those damned
stars, you won't have anything
else to write about.
40810If only you were soulless.More Like This
If you were mindless, blind,
you and I could make a beautiful disaster.
The press would write of our brief affair;
they'd paint me (the woman in red) as pathetic.
They will not consider how I need your love
or how it pains me so deeply to throw myself at you.
I will not be remembered as a poet warrior.
I'll be the eternal survivor no more.
All who think of me will shake their bowed heads
and tearfully remark;
If only you were soulless.
If you were mindless, blind,
You wouldn't have been such a bloody disaster.
No Meaning, Just FeelingNo Meaning, Just Feeling:More Like This
It's all just words across the page
You put them together in an angry rage.
You wanted to get these feelings out
But writing's not what this is about...
You're tired of expressing
How you think you feel.
You'd rather just scream
At least it's real....
No sense or logic
Just raw emotion.
Like the churning waves
Of a sleeping ocean.
Destroy the structure
Of all you say.
Take away the illusions
They get in the way...
Just say what you think
And you might go free.
But maybe this isn't how it's supposed to be...
"Is it really not possible, to scream through words?"
-Chen Yuan Wen, 21st April 2012
HeroHero:More Like This
I stand upon the highest mountain
And call to the clouded sky.
I can hear the murmurs of heaven
As the light begins to die.
The world we used to believe in;
Once filled with the flowers to bloom.
Is now caged by its own animosity;
Like a twisted asylum room...
How long do we have to stand here
Pleading to the ignorant skies?
We can scream with all of our voices
But the heavens turn their eyes...
I'm afraid that waiting for a hero
Is simply not going to do.
Because love alone won't save us;
And I think you know that too...
Some things we have to fight for;
We cannot build on broken stone.
We must start by returning to origin;
And then we begin to atone.
Instead of hurting in hollows
Let us rise on eagle's wings.
I'd love to hear the song again;
The one that angels sing...
"To move along from where we used to be;
It is the heart we must try to find.
It may not be the heart of a hero;
But I think it will do this time..."
"If the world isn't endi
because i love you.listen, just for a few minutes.More Like This
take a few deep breaths [even if you don't want to breathe anymore]. listen to the pitter-patter of your heart beating in your ears and feel your pulse racing. taste the silence of the world; see the anxiety take over you.
close your eyes and look at the black. look at the black until you see something worth holding onto inside of yourself. wait until breathing doesn't feel like a losing game and then open your eyes,
are wonderful. you remind me of a lullaby in winter, sung like a secret not meant for anyone to know; but it's a shame, because you're one of the most beautiful songs.
maybe you're fireworks that sparkle and light up the july sky - but unlike fireworks, you'll keep glowing into forever.
or maybe youre just you, and thats more than enough.
i know there's magic in the world.
i'd give you a rainbow if it erased the gray days; i'd give you a mirror if it made you see how wonderful you really
letters from no one.dear someone,More Like This
i know you probably don't care.
i know you're probably busy watching tv or dealing with your own problems, or maybe you're busy laughing and chasing butterflies. maybe you spend afternoons in the grass, smelling the sun and tasting life.
maybe you don't have time to worry about me.
but i'm going to pretend you care. i just want someone to hear me, honestly.
i don't expect you to understand or care or even listen.
i'm just hoping that you will.
i guess i should start by telling you that i wish i didn't have to live anymore. free time is spent wondering if there's any way i could possibly suffocate myself.
i guess i should tell you that i'm sorry about this, but the problem is i'm not.
there's a constant throbbing behind my eyes. i dream of cliff jumping (i've heard it feels like flying). i sleep with ice in my nervous heart, and reality slowly melts into nightmares.
i think of life as a waterfall. hope and happiness and love fall into the hands of the people
The old man in the park There's an old man sitting on a bench in the park.More Like This
A scruffy dog by his feet, on his lips a witty remark.
Not a tooth in his mouth, but he smiles anyway.
And if you ask him why, this is what he will say:
“I have a song in my head, and a smile on my face.
I have lived a full life of both sorrow and grace.
I have love so plenty, and stories to share.
And I live my life without a worry or care.”
His wrinkles are a map of a long, lasting life.
Of hard work, three sons, and a now deceased wife.
His hearing may be bad, and his vision turning grey.
But if you ask him, this is what he will say:
“I have seen my share of wonders, my friend
And I will hear the songs in my heart to the end.
So what need have I for these senses, I ask?
If they fail me, my memories shall rise to the task.”
The old dog by his side gives a soft little whine.
Licking his hand as if to tell him it is time.
He smiles and stands, shakes my hand for goodbye.
Then wanders off with a twink
Castle of air.It broke.More Like This
My fragile mind shattered like a glass mosaic.
All the tiny shards fell out of my ears, nose, mouth and eyes until there was nothing left.
That's when the men in white came to take me with them.
They told me they would take me to a castle where I would be treated like royalty, and where servants would be looking for the pieces of my mind puzzle that I had lost.
They dressed me in a beautiful white gown and brought me to my chambers so I could rest after my long journey. The walls and floor were soft to touch, and as I stretched on my toes and reached up my hand, my fingertips brushed against the soft ceiling.
There was no need for a common bed.
The entire room was a bed!
Softer than any bed I had ever slept in before.
I do not know how long I slept, but when I woke up, a servant in white came with food and water for me. He told me that if I was behaving well, he would take me to meet the others. I was curious to know who else lived at the castle, and promised I would be nice
The Horizon and the ShorelineI saw you in the ocean, riding waves like seaweed leaves.More Like This
And you kept your arms in motion
kept waving out to me.
I blew a kiss goodbye,
and stayed to watch you leave.
For the tide's a perfect gentleman, he'll take you out to sea.
Labor of LoveSwirling lines of lyricsMore Like This
Dipped in exuberance
Held by captivation
Blinding with luminance
Rolling in my breath
Biting my lip
Touching my tongue—
But only by the tip
Enthralling me with fear
Instilling me with patience
Searching for a rhyme
Labor of love
Passion in tenfold
Daring not to look back
As I cross the threshold
SleeplessIris between eyelashes that will not shutMore Like This
awakened, for far too long
For a moment the rose is here,
the rose with secrets inside
and I know, how wild and white, she is, for a while
guarding a winter tempest in her heart
snowed-in, melting its little crystals, vanishing next
Staring at walls and ceiling
crushing my face in holand pillows
Amethyst dark's and green dreams appears
they aren't clear in sleep, so I'm awake, again
waiting something close to the rain
ghosts that hide in drops of pain
beyond the dark... white sparkles lurk in
Counting wrinkles in mirrors, fingers, dust on wood
and every single shade that memories wear
I will not sleep with closed lips
want to shout and sing for the soundless wind
that I sense across the corners of the old house
winter, centered wind, rolling in...
little by little I'll disappear
clouds charged over the moon
Finally I'm resting
brushing my life under the rug
© copyright of KAY MARCH - All Right
Inferiore VitaMore Like This
In my blood-drenched heart
And my frost-filled eyes
I am born of stars
I am left to die
I am born of stars
And my limbs can't sing
I am lower than life
But my lord is King
In my heinous hell
And my dreams of death
He is thoughtless Night
He is without breath
He is thoughtless Night
And I give my day
To the heart of the one
Who will never pray
Twist my soul in a
I am lower than life
But my lord is King
In this forge of hate
And this den of fear
I do as I must
But I need my tears
I do as I must
I do as I will
But His Highness is blind
With the urge to kill
I do as I must
Though my limbs can't sing
I am lower than dust
And my lord is KING
The kill.I'll massage my wrists with this razor blade,More Like This
Knowing I'm nothing more than a guy who gets girls laid.
I'll massage my wrists with this stainless steel.
To see if it hurts, to see if I still feel.
I'm dead inside and I know it too.
So now I'll make myself dead to you.
And now I shall scream, fuck the world.
As my begging and pleading, has gone unheard.
So now I'll drive this blade through my breast.
Make the heartblood flow from my chest.
And now I'll run this blade up my arm.
And cause myself some great self-harm.
And as the blood runs off this blade,
And drips onto this far out glade.
I'll remember why I did this now.
And remember what happened and how.
I made that girl's life just perfect.
Then I so easily destroyed it.
I made another girl die of worry.
I'm a monster, there's no good in me.
So now I shall drive this knife through my heart.
So now I shall bleed out and depart.
So now I shall slit my wrists with this razor blade.
Just to make sure that I cannot stay.
From The InsideI can't always hold people upMore Like This
Because sometimes I'm heavy too
I've got a dark side like everyone else
Most of the time it just doesn't get through
I'm always trying to help people out
To guide them through their personal hell
It's nice being able to help them escape
But inside I've got my demons as well
Sometimes people just need a helping hand
We all want someone to remove the mask
I've always felt guilty when reaching out
Things have to be hell before I ask
More often then not people just need to talk
It helps to reveal the things that we hide
Most of the time I've got so much to say
So I try to bury it deep down inside
People can't always face their problems alone
Which is why people look for a crutch
For most of my life I've done things on my own
Little things like asking still seem like so much
I don't want to be a burden to those that I love
Though I want my wounds to be found
Nobody can see what I keep under wraps
When I finally break nobody is around
The In-BetweenStuck in the in-between,More Like This
Straddling the lines of love and hate,
Contradicting the absolutes,
With resolutions to try harder;
Try for a next time that may never come.
Suppressing innermost agony,
Attempting to acquire the inherent desires.
Deflecting the reality of now,
To avoid the question:
"What happens next ?"
Blinding the mind with hopes,
Filling the heart with 'maybe',
Plummeting the soul into anarchy.
Yet, the need provides sustenance,
The torment morphs into torture,
Seconds age the body like years.
Absence provokes a monster from beneath,
Rage entwines with Jealousy,
As memories of the unforgiven bursts forth.
On and on it goes,
The perpetual cycle,
A forever of indecision exists,
Fueled by the fear of the question:
"What happens next ?"
So there is nothing but being :
Stuck in the in-between.
Kiss Your ScarsSharp blades to the skinMore Like This
Sharp darts to the heart
Drink water to make you thin
He tore your world apart
Reflections of a former self
Indelibly etched on your memory
Take those thoughts and emotions
and share each one of them with me
I will put them with my own
My lies, my deceit, my sin
Kiss your scars, heal the wounds
of your perfect skin
Kiss your scars, heal your heart
Taste your blood on my lips
My heart now beats as one with yours
For each other we now choose to exist
I Hate That I Love YouI hate that you're my every thoughtMore Like This
That I wake with you on my mind
And fall asleep
To images of your smile
I hate that I adore you so
With gorgeous eyes
And sweet lips
I long to taste
I hate the way you make me feel
Like I need you to survive
As if breathing without you
I hate that I yearn for you
I hunger for your touch
Of every day
I hate the way I love you
With every beat
Of my wretched heart
That loving you keeps me alive
Yet keeps me alone
I miss youI miss you.More Like This
Like words to a song that play in my mind,
I don't know the tune but I can still hear the rhyme,
And there you are.
You made me believe in those pretty things you said,
As you slowly made your way out of the door and into my head,
And you're never there.
I put my trust in you.
My faith, the essence of my life, my hope and breath.
Like the rain that lightly falls on my face,
Leaving only memories of wet where it used to hold a place,
You haunt me.
I can't escape the way you once invaded my life.
But I have to let go, or this night,
This blackness that surrounds my lonely little world,
Will never turn to white.
But I'll still miss you.
A Forest at MorningI dreamed of trees. Bright boughs and bloomsMore Like This
Through gloom and morning spilled
While I brushed back their silver leaves
That sunlit skies had filled
With gilded wash--the vermeil sight
Above the dusky bark
Seemed starry trains above the moon
And night's enclosing dark
And I stepped under such a sky:
New-formed, bejeweled, and bright
And wished I could forever dwell
Within its dim half-light.
There nothing stirred; no beast or bird
Dwelt in the forest there
Though I heard silent rivers trill
Still wand'ring swift and fair
Through banks embraced by cattail roots;
Through drooping willow leaves
That rustled in the water's rush
Bereft of any breeze.
Oh, I stepped under such a sky
Composed of darkling boughs
Flushed with the swell of morning leaves
All silver-gold endowed
'Till awe forestalled my reaching foot
And stilled the step, half-made--
And oh! to breathe seemed mortal sin
As if each sound betrayed
Whatever heaven I had found.
But when I breathed at last
And put my foot upon the grou
letters from the seai.More Like This
sometimes when i wake up
before the sun rises, when i’m all alone
and it feels like i might be the only person in the world
i notice that my face is wet
and i wonder if it’s because
i’ve been swimming with you in my dreams
i remember you
in the summer nights under the corsican stars
and the warmth of your skin in the cold seawater
how the phosphorescence coated our bodies
as we swam together,
the salty tang of the ocean and your fingers up my spine
and us glowing like soft stars in the night
i remember how i wished it could last forever
now i wonder if the tides and my tears
were so different after all
Words That Burnt My Tonguei.More Like This
You don't need
thunderstorms or hurricanes to prove that you are living.
You don't need
fields of dandelions or gardens of roses to justify your existence.
Let the woodpecker mend your plastered heart.
Know that it's going to hurt because
you're blasting into comets and meteoroids,
you're no longer remnants of musky ashes that he left you.
Be brave enough
to let your tears bloom the roses of tomorrow.
unlearn the constellationsI may carry my voiceMore Like This
on white-crested wingtips
but I refuse to take the names of birds.
My throat is not a desert
with smoldered star limbs
in place of sand, not a stone
for you to overturn and mark
with gentle cloud prints
or leave in the mud
to be perforated by bright moss.
My song is not made
to be thundered like a body
on the wind, to be bellowed
by the jagged mouths
of some distant, forgotten jungle.
It is made to slide along the edges
of twenty burning suns and rise
like a halo of newfound breath
from the crevice which splits
earth and sea. To break open
like the young, wet-winged dove
born of a glorious mud
which cracks mountains with its beak.
My song is this:
your mouth pressed against my heart
and my heart unfurling like a fist,
like a tree which tries to speak
but finds itself without a tongue. It is
a sky for you to stand in. A cold, unknown
world which opens its mouth in peals of
thunder and cries teach me,
teach me how to sing
as if I were some heavy-handed god
Anxieties of a Conflicted IntrovertI.More Like This
[i don’t want to
have to tell you i’m
lately it’s been tough.
And i’m stricken with this feeling that
maybe i’m not good enough.]
you see, somewhere out there
birds are looking for nests and birds
are finding them in the ribcages of souls but i
am tired of picking straw from my heart
and strings and hair that wrap around my fingers i’m—
[well sometimes i’m
but i never wanted to tell you that]
--tired of seeing the ball i wind from
those leftover nests grow and grow—
[and i want more, want more, but
sometimes there’s only so much my heart can hold]
my life is a tree c
Becoming The DarknessMore Like This
Becoming The Darkness
Hope is slowly falling away
The shadows are consuming me
Please, relieve me of my guilty conscience
Because these memories haunt me to no end
Please, make me another one of the departed
Allow me to ascend from this lament
My sorrowful heart has been forever weighing me down
But I still tried my very best to carry on
My lonesome soul kept corrupting me even more
So I was never really brave or strong
The birth to a new side of me has risen
One that harnessed the tragedies
The gift of a curse is what I have been given
I'm in control of my own insanity
A tranquil calmness on the outside
A black storm rages on the inside
My eyes attempt to remain closed
While this inner chaos tries to take over
And these twisted thoughts grab hold
I am no longer my own oppressor
I've transformed into my best nightmare
And also my very own worst enemy
Because the light
gibel - it's all in your headhe'sMore Like This
the kind of breakdown
she saves for the holidays,
the kind of
Botox her knuckles need till
the shine of the brittle,
overthrown bone beneath
is all her rods and cones can see.
and hers is the kind of hair
that inks her bathtub water like stray
iodine crystals sublime in air;
her color is not permanent, she is
she was told her book-spine
wrinkles hitchhiked the words, 'wise'
but her eyes said
his knuckles subtended to radii-
grabbing her leaky hair,
a discarded body of
dirt any doctor would've claimed
but he knew his duties well --
to swing her lifeless vessel
till a breath of pleading air
escaped her miserly lips.
her veins bulged and screamed till their
contours marked her skin;
thirst made her pretty, the way
her cropped hair screamed unpleasant.
she was unpleasant, the dye
in her hair agreed.
breathe, he slammed, breathe but every plea
she silenced with stitched eyes, lips and
he was the
HateYour ignorant fingertips turn the pages of my soul as if you deem the words they whisper as true. The taste of your assumptions is bitter and the spit from my mouth has turned to poison. Black waters deep with hate and disgust seep from these lips and the desire to drown you in my sins is potent.More Like This
Silver mirrors with false reflections are tainted red with a thirst for your mortality. This crimson gaze stained and soiled falls from the heavens and is damned to look upon you. Odium, abhorrence, revulsion, hatred! Insufferable this punishment I am to carry for what was sentenced an eternity!
You're Not Dead Yet.You have been called "ugly."More Like This
You have been called "weak."
You have been called a "failure."
You have been called all of these things.
But at least you're not dead yet.
You've still got your life ahead of you.
You've still got all these years to cherish.
You've still got a lot to live for.
You might be on life support...
...but you're not dead yet.
All these years you spent in isolation.
All these years you hide away somewhere dark.
All this time you think about the odds.
But even while that appears to be the case,
You're not dead yet.
You have cancer in your whole body.
You have mesothelioma and bronchitis.
You have six days left to live.
You're running out of time.
But you're not dead yet.
Look at what all you've done with your life.
Take a look in the mirror.
Tell the whole world what you see.
Believe in the fact that there's an afterlife,
Because you're not dead yet.
we're all drunk and always have beennoMore Like This
i haven't felt smaller than this before
and it could be
because i don't breathe poetry in
and out -
and out -
i write it under my eyebrows
with the precision
of a drunk sniper
toasted into admission
with irony s-st-tutter-ering
down his throat.
you wouldn't take a damned bullet for me.
beautiful is a word kept
for the rise
of her tidal chest,
not my shallow breath,
not my sunset, heartfelt,
i would have disappeared
between your accusing index and
neglected thumb -
don't you feel calmer?
i haven't felt smaller than this
i haven't felt smaller than this before
and it could be
because you found a home between
her stroking index and
comforting thumb -
i haven't forgotten,
no, i still remember
now twenty two penumbrae in the past
didn't stop me
in one of several crevasses
at the bottom of your oceanic mind;
you may have forgotten,
and slept in
on the details,
but i haven't,
love al nientei.More Like This
It was December,
the grass wet with the sky's tears
and the moon hanging in the sky
like desperate mistletoe.
The bus stop always seemed perversely romantic:
you could see exactly how people painted fatigue
on their faces,
some strange dance of yawns and grunts
which reminded you of exactly how damn precious
problems of the privileged are.
Of course, you did not dance.
You did not paint fatigue that morning.
When the sun hypocritically spilled its summer gold
believing your smile could turn it into something refreshing,
and because it was a wrong note in life's symphony
I stepped closer to the bright almond
of your eyes.
Your first words were
"The beige really works with the leaves.",
and I think there
the fingers hit ivory
i could never have been sure with you;
you had danced on plenty tight ropes before
you settled for dancing on
and that's fucking good riddance,
you made me hit maximum occupancy at o
No Breathing AloudHave you ever feltMore Like This
their empty sorrows
Was showering over You
From a heavy cloud ?
What will we do ?
If we can't breathe,
Rotting inches beneath
They haunt me in my sleep,
Like monsters they are locked up
In my closet
I can hear them through blocked ears
Their suffocated cries...
As their lungs die
Everywhere I go...
They taunt me
I know I'm breaking
they know it too
"Why are you smothering us?"
Their lungs choked down in their
I don't remember his name
He asks ...
"Who are they?"
"The ones who torment your mind"
Can't you see
They are me...
They are me
those Who cry out for help,
Because deep down
This world has rotten my oxygen
And squeezed out my last breath,
Leaving my lungs for death...
and now I cry soundlessly
for an eternity
MoriartyI met you with Molly,More Like This
Wore clothes to seduce,
Left hints here and there,
A little something to deduce.
John talks in your place,
I knew there and then:
To get through to you,
I had to use your one friend.
Had people on the inside,
Broke into the tower.
Found not guilty for it,
Just playing for power.
Came round to your house;
A visit was due.
Engraved with a knife,
The letters I, O and U.
Richard Brooks is my name.
No-one will believe you,
Play along with the game.
With help from your brother,
There are truths interweaved,
With the lies and deceits,
So it’s easier to believe.
The knights told the king,
And they came round at last.
Now Sir Boast-a-lot’s ‘feats’
Are a thing of the past.
But you ran hand-in-hand,
Behind buildings you’d dart.
Nearly got yourself killed,
On the way to St. Bart’s.
Mrs Hudson’s been shot,
But you don’t leave with John.
For you know it was a distraction,
A red herring, a con.
Up to the ro
Love Potion? [England x Reader]More Like This
The magenta-tinged mixture simmered as Arthur checked his spells and potions book again. This time, his creation needed to be perfect- if he could even achieve it, that is. It seemed as if everything was in order; he had cooked and collected all his desired ingredients, adding them to the potion in a precise momentum.
You face suddenly decides to swim back into his mind, and a momentary flush takes over his features as he thinks over just what he was planning to do. As much as he tried to not confront the issue, it was becoming increasingly evident that the country had become smitten with you. There wasn’t a day that went be that he didn’t think about you or something about you.
Taking a flask and collecting some of the liquid swirling in the cauldron, we set it down gingerly on the table attempting to somehow distract himself from his feelings for a moment. Unwrapping a couple of brightly colored candies he had previously pu