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UntitledI am a deer in a forest; the fog is rolling in and my legs snap at every step I take. You are the predator whistling in my ears with deadly intentions. Fog rolling over me like a tumultuous sea hides me temporarily, until I move.
I am quaking with fear as the arrow of time slashes my throat, and I see ghosts looming over me. I shiver as they touch my shoulder, trying to catch up with me. I try to outrun them but the arrow of time is getting the better of me.
And suddenly I am swimming in the ocean and my lungs are turned inside out and I am drowning in carbon monoxide. My fingertips are creating black holes into nothingness and I swear I can't see anything anymore.
I am blind and all I see is horror. I am blind and I want nothing but silence. I want nothing but familiarity and your warm arms wrapped around me to keep me save. I want to smell your skin and feel your touch and drown in love.
I want to feel your love radiate through my bones and I want to feel your breath feather on my ch
SacrificeI can see my bones
Sticking out from
Under my skin they
Cut through me like
A knife cuts through
I like to sit in
Silence and admire
The moon and her
Looking down on
I run my hands over my
Hips and closely examine
My bones sticking
Out from under
I have sacrificed
Many bites of food
To feed that
Monster in my
It tells me not
To eat and not to
Drink and to keep on
And I want to
Get the monster
Out of my head but
But I can’t give
Up now not without
I need to keep
Going on even if not
I have to keep
Going on because I
Know you are
Dreams are to vanish, never to come true.I remember you.
The rotten woods of the shiphulls are crying because of the salty water rolling on the shores of loneliness with no sun and no moon. Yet the smokey sunset once so beautiful is like a long lost friend who will never return, the moonless night empty as can be. The restless water will always smell after betrayal of the oceans and the salted funerals of the mariners gone and forgotten. I’m trying to pull back my senseless hands from the water but just now I notice they’re gnawed off at the wrist and I am sinking like a stone into the endless depths of the ocean's water.
I’ve never seen how reality can be so cruel and I finally stopped painting flowers in the restless skies above the restless oceans. My flowers faded and their words have disappeared and the bright blue I used to paint the sky has now de-saturated to grey, just like my miniature birds folded out of butterfly wings have disappeared among the clouds.The moon has awoken and swallowed the sun, b
Write It To MeYou tried to capture the ocean with your mouth
And whispered to me late at night
About how the moon was up there hiding
Behind the clouds that told a
Story of your life
The breeze that tangles my hair turns
Into a deafening storm
That whispers poetry into my ears
When the starlit sky is a just a part of
The story of your life
Wait- don’t write it to me now
Wait until that bottle of whiskey
On your nightstand is almost
Empty of desire
Still don’t write it to me
Write it to me when the world
Has swallowed you whole six
Feet under where all you hear is
The rattling of skeletons beside
Inner DemonsThree teaspoons full of sugar and a bottle of painkillers.
“Do you really think that’ll help?”
“It will. Just do it.”
A glass of water and a handful of pills.
“Are you sure it will be alright?”
“This’ll make you feel much better, trust me.”
The taste of chemicals on my tongue.
“But what if..”
“There is no ‘what if’.”
A big gulp of water and away they go.
“How long until I’ll feel better?”
“Not long now, just lay down… close your eyes…”
Darkness and bright coloured specks,
“You did good… Now rest.”
“No, wait. I don’t want this. Get me out of here!”
Panic. Fear. And I realise,
“I don’t want to go!”
“You’re too late now.”
My inner demon has won.
It is momentsWhen the sky is high and the ocean is deep; when the wind is singing and the stars sigh; when the trees are whispering secrets of life into open ears and when the soil is warming under the waking sun: these are the moments which I know. These are the moments in which I can tell it is the moment between the silence of the breath and the words. It is the moment when time suspends and the pencil stills and the sentences don’t flow, but clog and jam and fold onto themselves so they are impossible to pick apart and understand.
These are the moments in which I know.
It is the moment when you first wake and your first motion isn’t to stretch or yawn or awaken your slumbering muscles, but instead you pull me closer into the radiating heat of your chest. It is the moment when the afternoon is still and the noise is muted, and in the middle of mundane normalcy you look my way and somehow turn the most ordinary of minutes into something more. It is the moment I stretch my thoughts pas
Dear MeDear Me,
Right about now, you, my 13-year old self, is most likely sobbing in a corner at school. Again. Because the mean kids in class wouldn't stop bullying you again, because the mean kids won't accept you for who you are. Or maybe right now you are talking really bad behind a friends back so you can come across as "cool" and score some "cool-points" with the same mean kids that will bully you just the same tomorrow. I know it seems endless, and maybe it is. But I also know this; you will get through this. And you can get through this. Trust me, I know.
The best thing you can do right now is to just stop sobbing, hold your head up high and face the world, even if that world doesn't want to face you. Don't go buying that dumb, expensive t-shirt that all the popular kids have, and most importantly: don't try to be something, or someone, you're not. Because I know now that you are not like them. You are not mean. You do not "hate" people