FlatlineI can't breathe It's so coldI'm drowning I can't seeThe light's fadingWhere am I?Who knows I can't hearSirens scream in my ears,Wrapping their fingers around my throatI shout and yell Only to hear silence once againI'm sinking Deeper, darkerUnknown I'm bruised, brokenThe breakers, they're comingThey've always held my handBut now they're letting goI gasp for air as blood fills my lungsI cryMy eyelids feels heavyMy throat is soreThe pulse from my chest grow slowerDarkness surrounds meHope is dimI'm gone
That Child - 1.5-- "IT" --I don't know him anymore. He's not the same "kiddo" he used to be. Who are you now?...Why do I even bother. He can't hear me anymore, can he?He's not the same. He's different.Not because he hugs his torn, tear-stained teddy bear to his chest and needs a night light on 24/7 or he'll start wailing. The fact that there are demented drawings that seems to be drawn by a 3 year old child scattered across the room makes no difference. Only thing that was unsettling was his continuous and seemingly endless stare at a plain, blank wall, standing still before him. His eyes are hollow. He mutters quietly, softer than a whisper, in a language that I, and most likely anyone else, don't, or will ever know. From what I can see, he's only the cold, lifeless shell of my dear ol' "kiddo." Other than that, there's nothing left. Nothing left of him. What are you now?...He giggles. No, not "he", "it.""What are you, what do you see
That Child - 01-- Rise and Shine --"Love. A special feeling for another being or yourself, so warm, it makes you melt. One that all will or have felt at least once in their lifetime, unless, love is their life. Love is what we humans call happiness, and happiness is love."...Don' t screw with me. Liars. There's no such thing. And before I knew this, it was too late. My world had already ended. People like I, who believed in "love" were left to rot in agony from the impact of the harsh reality we've denied. "Love" is only a dream, a delusion we created so we can say to ourselves, "I'm not alone." How stupid. There's no such thing as "love". No such thing... but I wonder, if there was, would you still be together?I stare out the window, counting the raindrops, one by one, as they fall on the glass, only to slip away like everything else had. I've always liked the rain, though, I never knew why. It's quiet. I miss sitting together, laughing together, being t
Words Are Powerful ThingsYou’re so angryYou let words swarm up inside.Screaming to get out.They yell and shout.They sit there,And fester.Turning into horrid things that should never be even whispered,In the softest tone.You get so angryCause you’re so afraid.Like so many other peopleYou let your fear burst into rage.The monstrous words inside of youRefuse to remain in their cages.You let those words escape your lips,All of the sudden you feel like your words have killed someone.As you see their face.Words are suddenly bullets.They’ve pierced your victim’s heart.Fragments of a once pretty, friendship scatter on the floor.The pieces so broken, I doubt you could find all of the shards to make it whole again.There’s a slamming of a door.Whether that be real,Or just a metaphor.To say you’ve been locked out,Pushed away.From this once dear friend of yours.I hope one day.You’ll find better wordsTo form a key.So you can find your way back to them.
I am LostMy thoughts are orcasTrapped in bathtubs.Macrocosms trappedWithin microcosms -Stuck, glued tight,Melting like Dali's clock,In a cock fightWith my conscience.Sometimes I forgetAll that regretBurning through -A pain so foreverThat I hardly everFeel it anymore.A cut so deep and quickThat it stops -Time is static -Before it bleeds.Eyelashes likeDandelion seedsFluttering in the wind.So much to see.My heart is vacant,My lungs made of leadAnd both are my enemiesBecause I'd rather be dead.But no I wouldn't.Not anymore.I'm fake, made of a paper -A corporate rock whore -And I don't knowWhat I stand for.But maybe I don't have toStand for anything -A word without a definitionStill leaves a markOn pure paper.A meaningless sparkCan still become a fire.A tickle of loveCan still become desire.
untitledthere are a thousandunwritten love letters in your eyesnow I keep thinking aboutgravityand the color greenall I know is thatmy skull's beenovertaken mapped cleanwith inkwarriors traversing well worn pathsboots leaving tracks acrosschests and necksand it's comfortablethis sinkingit's not like drowningmore like slowly loweringinto hot bathwaterand we are just skin and cosmosbodies and wordsour tongues landlockedwe are adrift inour own little seawe've plucked our wingsand now we can't flytell me the truththat the sky's overratedI'd rather be with youon the groundor buried beneath itskeletons entwined truthfullyI've always thought heaven was a pretty sort of liebut I've read a book or twoabout heavenor people's idea of itat leastand I disagree with myselfpopping thought balloonson the idea that heavenis in the way your eyes fold origami swans when you smilethat shitty laughthat hollow above your heartlike your chest's caving i
Happy Songs on the RadioI don't write about happy things.I don't listen to songs about romance.I can't feel what the artist is singing so passionately about.The longing to know what it's like makes me want to scream and shout.The way people write and lace words together,About how happy and perfect they see the world.Has always been a stranger to me.I wish I could see,The way you did.I really do.I wish I could feel the same way as you.To be able to hear the lyrics,'I love you'And picture someone to match those three words.I wish I could hear these songs,About how everything is perfect.Absolutely nothing is wrong.But I can't.I hear those songs and I feel empty.Because I can't feel what they're saying.And I keep listening,But I am just wasting my timeTrying but failing to relate.When I hear the songs on the radio.They make me squirm in my seat.I feel happy but sad.Something so bitter sweet.Because part of me feels so happy for the person.Who sings so happily.But another, darker half.
novelthere’s tea you still need to drink.you left it on the counter again, because you’realways forgetting where you put it.it’s probably cold by now, butit’s there for whenever you’re ready.here’s a blanket to lose yourself in.you don’t have to give it back.here’s another book i thinkwill make you cry if i ever find the courageto give it to you. i’ve underlined everyline that made me want to scream, that made mewant to rip out my hair and destroy everythingbeautiful about myself, that made me want todrive across a desert in the middle of the night,that made me fall in love with everything wonderfulthe universe has left to give me.i can’t find the words to tell you what it’s about.i guess it’s about growing up and finding lovebut it’s also about figuring out how to exist comfortablyand it’s about people who are good and people whoare not always good and the things they do and the worlds t
remember,when i was your lioness andwe ruled the world withscattered light andephemeral dreams.andafter all this time, istill stay up late thinking of you,pinching myself awake to keep the image of you in my headuntil i hear you sing me to sleep.we all have our demons, i was always yours.waking up with bruises on my arms in an empty bed,the devil inside of me whispers that it's not over yet, andhe pumps turbulence from my carved open heart into my saltwater bloodi feel every half-healed scar split open to bleed yet again.wanting you is wanting the safety of the starswhen i'm already in free fall (into the grave).my siren, i was born to die but you loved me into a phoenix.
TearsDon't cryYou have friendsYou have familyYou have loveDon't cryYou have shelterYou have foodYou have waterDon't cryYou have everything you needDon't cryFor there's still hope