Should I die tonight, does this legacy of rambling so easily capture as the dry moans of midnight thunder, the shaken masses; flashing my love letters down deep thrombosis of their breaths. Licking clean their contented smiles, byte by byte.
Category: Poetry
The poetic expression of my artistic and aesthetic pillars along with some choice mixed-media.
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Theunderbar
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Soft Landings
The saddest realization of all: that happiness does not breed romance. Destined for solitude until the need arises. A meaningful day within a meaningless life. I accept your cordial invitation to a humble doom - to always fall back in love. A wolfish grin tailored by sheep.
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aside over soliloquy
Something inside me used to be angry; I gnawed off it. Something to listen to on the way to everywhere - nod with it. Some pills that spilt over my bedside nodding off them. Every now and then I don’t hate myself, but not often. Flash - the lightning grumbles. Crash - my thoughts crumble. Something inside me remembers the toast, shit, I'm not with it.
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IDKWNTHT, but,
Do you ever wonder, in a million voices screaming at you; hey, why am I such a loser piece of garbage? And you know, you know, it’s coming from somewhere - past, present, whatever. Then you realize, it’s just one voice: it’s just yours. Even as you write you know you know you can never share this because relatable trauma only, please.
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down
I catch myself wanting
to break this bottle
over the teeth
of the fence directly left -
to sit and cry
a little,
but I’d just go back in
and buy another.
Also, I gave up crying
for lent,
permanently.
Hit one on the first floor,
because my muscle memory
says, “down.”
Have I really become so afraid
of intimacy that I’d sabotage
anything resembling
just so I could go get let
down.
How that bell rings
around my head:
You have it in you to die,
coward,
but not to live.
You’re lucky my guilt
outweighs my disgust. -
The Butterfly
Another stop, a diversion, another roadside *, the last great, big, ball of barbed wire. *attraction. On the way to your comfort zone: *deep sigh* and streeeetch - going; what grew inside you, found you missing.
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