i am sorry
that you had to deal
with my wrath
the other day
you weren't expecting it
and i think
i scared you
please forgive me
you should know by now
not to wake
a sleeping me.
Empty roomsIn empty rooms
vast quantities of nothing exists
where no naked eye
can observe the nothingness within.
When lounging in another room
or when a door just clicks closed
silent as a cacophony
in those empty rooms beyond.
And when a head peeks round a door
(like a feather
slowly drifting back down from a great height)
there really is just nothing
nothing happening in those empty rooms
nothing happening within.
MelancholicAfter my father died, life continued. Still, I was always taken aback by his terrible absence, marked so bitterly by the thick layer of dust that settled about the house. It lay in every corner, in deep slopes, and no amount of cleaning could unsettle it.
And in a similar way, every time I listened to a piece of music he would have admired, or a book he would have recommended, he passed across my memory, and then I would simply think, Oh.
When I slept, he told me things. In my dreams he whispered secrets, but they were soundless for there were no more secrets.
Sometimes, when at work or while shoe shopping or between mouthfuls at dinner, I would be bowled over by a surge of plaintive emotion. One that has no true name but one that is cruel and ruinous.
I always told myself: Things will get better. But they never did.
ZenithThere is a cerulean skyline
that I look to
when I wake up sad,
with no one to explain
this feeling to.
There is something out there,
between the dreams,
that I need to understand.
That outer limit,
I don't ever reach it,
but I want to.
This won't last forever.
I'm on my way.
RecallI hold my head in my hands
and begin to think,
attempt to recollect,
memory of you.
with your body
still close to mine.
to be asleep
when I know that you
are watching me.
through your hair
for your happy-cat smile.
All of them
are decent thoughts,
but nothing sparks.
Nothing reminds me
of that painful love
that went away
some time ago.
I can only remember
your excuses falling,
against my head
and arguments burning,
aching my failing love,
memory of you.
PharosAll of my fires
have been put out now,
from the pyre of my heart
to the ember of my eye.
Once, dangerous flames
travelled in my wake
but all are subdued now.
And I think:
what use is a beacon
without a reason to burn?
HindsightRegret is hindsight's backbone,
self-pity his creeping heart,
and bone fingers that scratch
as they work into your mind.
Leering lips, empty eyes
and crooked skeletal legs.
He shadows behind
waiting until he is needed
until a moment of nostalgia
pushes you back.
Paranoia over past happenings
is the poison that he seeps into you.
And when he's finished
he steps away again
but only for a moment.
WomanismAfter only so many days,
An ache creeps into me.
It is a balloon of pity,
But simply for myself, mind.
Such a furore stirs
That in the time between,
I am just a little girl,
No need for rights here.
I'll make you tea,
I'll wear clenching dresses,
I'll beg, cherish, plead.
When we meet again,
After only so many days,
You'd be searching long
To find these thoughts.
OrisonAlways look towards that
giant blind horizon.
Claw at it, keep going even
when you are raw.
Behind you lies every mistake
you ever made, even the
ones you hid.
Hold onto that desire burning
a chasm in your heart.
Never pity your
escape from the past.
Never forget it either.
Little BirdI feel your sure heart in my hands;
There is a terror over you.
One small squeeze
And paradise awaits.
I cocoon you between these two walls
And wait for your shrill howl
Are you not afraid?
You do not know that I am benign.
But your quivering silence
Is sound enough for me.
I never meant you any harm;
Fly like I will never know how.
Chin UpAnd sometimes, coated and layered
with tens of scores of others' eyes
we forget the word 'lonely' -
so when it flings ashes
we blink, and are blinded.
A Suicide Note..
Dear Mum and Dad,
First of all you need to know that this is not your fault,
It's mine, for I locked my problem inside me like a vault,
Problems that I was never able to tell you,
Problems that I'm sick of dealing with. I'm through.
I'm sick of pretending that everything's alright,
I'm sick of having all these emotional demons to fight.
I can't take my depressing life anymore,
I realize I felt this way too often before.
I now know I'm not needed in this place,
Just another stupid teen, just another ugly face.
I can tell I'm secretly hated by everyone I know,
Though, when I'm around, they don't let their hatred show.
My life has no purpose as I can clearly see,
No one needs me and everyone hates me
I hate this world I live in, I hate how I feel now.
I try so hard to be accepted, but I don't know how.
I hate my reputation.. a fat loser.. a slut
So I'm ending my life, my wrists I will cut.
I want you two to know, that I really do love you,
But I hate my life too much, this is the only thi
I feel alone.
Seperate from others.
Suffering from a broken heart.
I have friends.
They care for me.
But their too busy with their lives.
Am I selfish?
I stand in the highwall not caring.
I watch my life pass by in blurrs.
Turning my head just looking around.
My heart bleeds.
I feel so alone.
I watch people hug and kiss.
I try to get noticed.
I scream at the top of my lungs.
No one notices.
I curl up in fetal position in the middle of the floor.
I tug my hair gently to see if I'm still alive.
I claw at my skin to bleed more.
My life keeps on going.
But I dont.
I walk like on autopilot.
I'm fineThrough soulless eyes people see
all too constantly watch the world
that they believe had nothing for them.
Tears form, but no one sees,
no person even bothers to look,
yet it isn't like they don't notice.
When someone finally looks
and actually sees for once
they utter those few words,
that can change so much.
Are you okay?
The tear stained face looks up
and knows it's been seen
with a blink though
the tears are gone.
The voice breaks,
but it is overlooked
as nothing important.
"Stop! I'm not okay!"
The internal voice screams,
but the silent mental call
is heard by no one.
And the crying form
that so brokenly said it was fine
is left to cry once more.
Math and PoetryShe used to tell me
of math and poetry
by the length of her arm
and rhythm of her heart
condensing verse and fraction
with form following the function
of communist theories
and greek philosophies.
she beat out aesthetics
with a perfect symmetry.
because no one understands
the relationship between
seafoam and shoreline
the way she does
[swimming in saltwater sorrows]
reimagining time in an hourglass,
she shot up infinities with a glance
and left me moondrunk in the night.
she emits sparks throughout my system
breaking and entering--
my kingdom under siege.
her name was an amalgam of numbers
1.61803399 . . . .
and I loved her by design.
Red Riding HoodI want to believe people so badly when they say they won’t bite
that I contemplate climbing into their smiling jaws
thinking that it might be better to be split in two than left hanging.
But always, I draw my red hood and flit back into the forest
running in the shadows of pathways, never stepping into clearings
because I’ve spent my whole life in the wilderness
and I still can’t tell the wolves from the woodsmen.
The day the leopards diedAlarm clock - check!
The city humdrum - check!
The noisy guy upstairs - check!
The sound of running water - check!
The angry woman on the phone - check!
The furtive cat legions, stray, spoiled - check!
The wars on TV, clamorous, onerous, futile - check!
The shadowy stalkers returning to their hideouts - check!
The mother, worrying about offspring whereabouts - check!
The birds - a farrago of doves, gulls, sparrows, crows - check!
The dogs - spaniels, Great Danes, retrievers, pomeranians - check!
The plumber, wanting money for that job he never completed - check!
The bugs, the critters, the noises behind the walls, the eyes in your kitchen sink -
Check, check, check!
Everything accounted for, I look outside and find no leopards.
You would think that this was natural. This is not
leopard country, but I feel their absence elsewhere, and
I wonder why all the city eyes look inward.
So I walk.
I cut into the sunshine
and sail the concrete waves into
the green - no leopards, into
the blue - n
2P Romano Hetaloid x Reader (Part 2)“talking”, ‘thinking’
Despite you pleads Flavio kept undressing you, leaving you only in your (color) frilly undergarments. “Frills definitely suit you my bella ragazza but I wouldn’t mind taking those off for you too~” “NO!” You quickly avoided his hands as he was reaching for the clip of you bra, and since beggar can’t be choosers you picked up the first piece of clothing you got your hands on. “Aaww~ Alright mio amore you can still wear it but only if you put on that dress you got” “Fine, I’ll be back” You went into your room and locked the door to change only to realize what dress you have picked out. It was a short (color) maid dress that you bought yesterday just thinking you could wear it for fun while cleaning the house.
‘Dear God why!? …Maybe I can escape through my window and-’ “(f/n)~! You done? Don’t make me go in there~” “Fuck my life”