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TEN PILLSThe first pill
The normal dose
Enough to take the edge off of everyday life
Enough to satisfy the demons from ripping me apart from the inside out
But the thing about demons is, they are greedy
Eventually they want more
The second pill
Just a little extra to try and sooth this broken heart
See, when you left me, my world crumbled into little pieces of memories
They slowly fell like ashes in a nuclear winter
The third pill
The demons want more
Your love for me was the barrier holding them back
Now that your gone, the damn has broke
Demons are poring in like millions of mindless zombies searching for a life to devour
And it seems they have found one
The fourth pill
You… my angel
My soothing light shining through a hole in my black canvas of life
has given up on me
I can’t see the hole anymore
The light is gone
My way out is no longer visible
I’m in darkness
The fifth pill
Fuck it, lets keep going!
The sixth pill
This one is for every time I could feel you fucking him
Upon My Last BreathIs the loss of love worth gaining death?
I ask this question upon my last breath
As the pulse of life fades to dark
Peace arises in this tortured heart
Confessing weakness in my cowardly choice
The pain is gone as I hear your voice
Depression is lost as I see your face
I close my eyes and feel your embrace
So warm, so comforting, this moment of bliss
Everything fades as I feel your last kiss
Although I know you're really not there
I leave with a smile in this moment we share
Is the loss of love worth gaining death?
I answer with "yes" upon my last breath
Rise of the unspoken words,
Filling your head.
They burst into existence,
In the form of emotional combat.
Hints are subtle.
Allegations are stirring.
Assumptions are vibrant.
What's left to be known?
Everything that was never said.
A Conversation PieceThe old gas lamp juts out from the living room wall
Empty of life, empty of its purpose,
Original in its old, ornate shades of antiquity
Clashing with the new color, concealing the walls age
The lamp stays so silent, so still, with its story so secret
Its old soul lines its way through the house.
What has it seen?
What moments has it put its light upon?
What shadows has it cast on opposing walls?
What tears have glimmered in its lively glow?
What did it look like with its spirit illuminating the night?
This new age may never know,
For its only use now…
Is a conversation piece
One Last TimeMy soul is now alone.
Diminished to a point of then and now.
I no longer feel your fervent touch.
I no longer can enjoy the
Delicate breeze of your breath on my chest
As we lay awake at night.
I no longer smell the scent of your hair
As it lingers in the air when you walk by. My eyes
No longer gaze at your beauty.
I glance to nowhere, hoping
To see you one last time.
One last time is all I wanted, in hopes
It will make you change your mind.
One last time, to make your soul blind with love.
To make it so my soul is whole again.
No longer with you, is the thought I must bare.
One last time is a dream I must let go.
Shattered, My Tortured HeartShattered
By the still, crisp, words.
They rattle silently in my
Mind. Conjured by the truth,
I wish was a lie. Deceived by
The closeness. Now hatred
Flows, like an avalanche crushing
Helpless hearts. Drugged by the
Past, pleasured by perfect lies.
Love hardens to a cold steel blade,
But it can't cut the
Tension that tourniquets
My tortured heart.
Nothing to FearAs black as a moonless night,
Is the color that caresses its skin,
Lime green eyes opened wide
Pierce through the paralyzing dark,
Like two holes punched in a curtain trying to hide the day.
Wearing a coat that shimmers and shines in the ambient light,
You can only see a reflection of its movement.
Claws made to tear flesh from fearing souls.
Porcelain white teeth ready to rip skin from bones,
Inviting the stains of blood from the bleeding.
Capable of a hiss that could put fear in the face of death.
As silent as a bludgeoned prayer laying in its grave
Ready to pounce on its powerless prey,
Fearless of reality, so aware of its surroundings,
And as I turn on the light, I hear it speak...
The WhisperHe slowly leans in towards her
He brushes her hair behind her ear
So he can get a better view of her beauty
He looks into her eyes and pauses
Just long enough for her to wonder what's about to happen
He leans in for a kiss
But he only brushes by her lips
He continues towards her ear
She feels his delicate breath on her cheek
Then he whispers in the ear he so thoughtfully exposed
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen"
She melts and is now his to have
SuffocateYour finger's bent and broken
Now it's pointing at yourself
But you look behind you
As if it's pointing to someone else
The mirror you gaze in
Is smeared with tears
It distorts your beauty
And shows you what's really inside
But you close your eyes
You smile so brightly
But your breath has the scent
Of the heart you chewed up and spit out
But you ignore the stench
Your words are loud
But the hate behind them is louder
So you plug your ears so you can't hear it
Your soul is massive
But you burry love with the dirt inside it
And walk away as love slowly suffocates
You should acknowledge that your finger points back at you
You should open your eyes when you look in the mirror
You should stop ignoring the stench of your breath behind that smile
You should unplug your ears and listen to your words
Then you should burry yourself
With the dirt that's in your soul
And I will walk away as you suffocate
Just as you did with the love that I gave to you
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
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.
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
specter boys have always looked best sinkinghe says,
i want to count all 206 &
feel the notches of your ribs -
i want you, weary boy, to
phase yourself down while
you are burning inside out.
i will seethe inside your skull
like thoughts, like cigarette filters;
you will thank me as i molder in your marrow.
Moira (Excelsior)Moira (Excelsior)
hands clap over my eyes
like a chain clasp
linking lace around my neck.
and our clutch.
splitting into a wide upward curve,
canines and incisors cut through screens.
time rotates in a downward degree
360 degrees infinitely,
but the days are confined to finite.
and if i could, i'd connect the 12 lines
and walk along them endlessly.
i'd lose the ability to dream
and i'd never have to mingle
with the cousin of death.
living forever as a verb,
until time laps around the track
about 10 million times before
it has lost its legs.
i don't wanna sleep,
i want to dream
in an empirical reality.
hold the old time in my hand
and let the prospect bleed
into the prophecy.
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
Tonight, I finished a roll of toilet paper
that I had started
a month, 8 days,
two hours, and 21 minutes ago.
Its genesis, June 11th,
one of the worst nights of my life,
I took a roll from my small bathroom,
and silently tucked it under my arm.
I couldn't let my girls know.
They couldn't know
I was going to use this as my broom.
They couldn't know
that I swept my shattered heart
under my bed.
And I wept.
My pillow taking my abuse,
my suffocation and my attacks.
My fingers squeezing it for dear life
and my knuckles as I punched it,
imagining it was her.
Then hugging it.
I only cried that hard
when I was about 6.
She was gone.
And so was I.
I cried every night
which would've marked
our 7-month anniversary.
And in the late days of that month,
I lied to myself.
And for that,
I regret every moment.
I wasn't ready.
At least I stopped it,
before we drowned each other
like the last woman.
Two weeks lat
Stream Of ConsciousnessThe promise of tomorrow
Brings nothing but neglect
Of my own self-worth.
Craving your touch is a craving
Not satisfied by a peck on the cheek,
Or a light brushing of shoulders.
My dreams remain in purgatory.
My faith in love remains sublime.
My love of life is fading with each day.
I wish for more than what you give me.
I wish for more than what I have.
I wish for more than unfulfilled thoughts
Brought on by imaginary words that
Have never been spoken.
This stream of consciousness is relentlessly
Striving to become something that greatness
Can't put a finger on.
All I know is that I want more than to look into your eyes.
I want more than just a mere thought of having you.
I want more than this overflowing, bursting, box of dreams.
Purge my pain.
Purge this impatient, impulsion to infest
You're being with kisses and love.
Purge me of wanting more.
Let's become one and see where it brings us.
Give me more
Keep in Touch!