my brother's room holds both heaven and hellHe envelops himselfin covers and darknesslest he see the nightmareshe fearslest he see the nightmares he hears.He tells mein pained whisperof the hate discarded angels sing from his wallshow god damnsthe souls of those so irreparably broken as him.I try fashion my love into a weapon that couldsmite even those which godcould only nail to his wallsbut my weapon is wastedFor these enemies are ones I'll never see.He tells mein weakened screamsof the lovewretched demonswhisper from darkened cornerswith false faces and intentionshow only they can protect himhow he must die so he can be free of this burdenAnd though I use my love to screamdeafening hope to cloud suchcruel thoughtsI know he
I Blame The MessengerThe messenger stole her soulHis words trapping its fragile memoryWithin his palmAs he let her own grief crush it to ash.And while his message said oneI knew our family Had lost two souls that day.
The War Ain't OverThe war's never overIts always just beginningThinking of all the battles I've lostSends my brain spinning,But the war ain't overThat much I knowSo there's a chance I could take the reignsAnd then I'd never let 'em goBut right now's another battleAnother hour of pain,The enemies siegeWhen my smile started to waneUnder the crushing blowsTheir words did to meThough I supposeI should be glad they weren'tSticks and stonesCause then where would I be?And as my embarrassment mountsThen comes their cavalryStabbing at what's left of my gaiety.I call for a retreatCut the losses of my prideRun back for shelterAnd merely try to hide,But waiting there's an ambushAnother standing infantryAll their guns dutifullyPointing towards me.I stand and accept their fireWhere else am I meant to go?Here was supposed to be safeThis castle was supposed to be home.So I pull myself togetherI stride through their screamsTrying not to fall apartWhilst they rip me to seams.And the d
I Might Need YouI think I might need you,But here's the thing:I'm spinning out of controlAnd careening off the side of the road.I pretend to hold on to the wheel,But we both know I'll crash.It wasn't a fair fight.If you would listen,If you would actually listen,You would hear me whispering"I want you.""I need you.""You're mine."And if you would listen,If you would actually listen,You would know thatWe are horribly wrongFor each other,And that my words mean nothing.But what's to stop us fromSharing our sheets anyway?We sleep folded togetherLike slips of origami paperPressed so tightly thatWe could not possibly split.I think I might need you,But here's the thing:I really wish I didn't.I wish it was you,And not me.
It only hurts because we both feel the same wayDuskAnd in the depths of this never ending twilight my mind retraces its steps,Following the veins along your arms and across your chest.Counting the memories as they slip between my finger tips,Remembering when times were goodAnd you said you’d write a love song for every one of my tears.But those days are long gone, now fading stars in the darkest of nights. DayWhen our souls were light and our days care free,We would watch the leaves as they fell from the trees.Each one a dying light, like a firework that streaks through the nightBut we built a fire so big and so bright,An undying passion blazing in the night. I found heaven in your eyes the murky blue like stormy skies,The curve of your lip like a mountain range,I could sit forever and gaze at you this way.My piece of heaven in the depths of hell,Your light reached out to me and healed all my scars.ButWhen you said that every breath I take is a tiny gift to you in a miraculous way, I welled up i
Something's MissingI will not miss you like a child misses a blanketor a year misses a season which has just passedor as childhood is remembered from furrowed brows;the parched lips that had once drunk fromthe fountain of youth.No,nor will I miss you like a widowed larkthat stays up all night believing inmelodic necromancy -- I do not believe in such things,as I do not believe in a god I forsook,when I realized I did not miss himas I missed the comfort of ignorance,Nay, I cannot miss you like a poem misses its musein verses,which miss her till eternity diesor a juvenile favour that leaves onebenevolent and misses benevolence for all of its days.No.Instead I must miss you like an accepted part of every day -- the ticking of clocks, the buzzing of gadflies,the first few moments after awakening that misses a dreamor the Korean vase upon the chiffonierwhich misses last week's dahliasor the street dog misses its late keeper-of-crumbsor an ink quill misses the words it boreor a poet m
OverActive ImaginationLike verbal synesthesia, snap crackle popin my head.Words gobang bang bangand all I think are flashes.Computer fans are white noiseand clicking keys a melody.I sleep on piles of booksand tell myself bedtime storiesthat never, ever end.It's the same one, every night. over and over and over and over and over.......I edit, even in my head.One color brings four hundred synonyms to mindand the feeling of fabric is like a burst of light.Looking at a photograph is often over whelming,and all I want to do is know whatthey were thinking,not what I am.It's a curse and a blessing,on a wing and a prayer,and a hundred other clichesthat will never go away.Here's to the over active imaginationthat won't stop finding the meaning in everything.
Letting Go"Letting go"Here I am againThe pessimistic one,Holding the barrel of a clueless gunAgainst my head.Trying to understand why it isI havent pulled the trigger yet,Am I not done?I am the man that builtAn empire out of sandAnd sweat, fought for justiceAnd equality in a world I couldntFully comprehendAnd even though there are still manySelf-set goals I havent metIm ready to give up now.I swear I can hear the bulletWhispering do it into my earObliterating my one and only fearMaking it so much easier to let go.
you will be alrightstand on your fractured bones,bury your childhood dreamsswallow your broken teethand smile through the stifled screams[because someday you'll heal,someday you'll walk straight and laugh, andmaybe tomorrow will bring you relieffor your burnt skin and glass heartsplintered in half]so count all the nail-shaped trails,deal out your playing cardsnumber the shattered ribsand outline your fading scarswipe the blood from your face,with barbed wire around your wriststake off on unhealed wingsclench your teeth and your fists[because someday you will live again,someday you will see the light, andmaybe tomorrow you will be okay,someday your tears will be pearlsin the night.]
A Friend's Words To MeA great friend once said to me“I think destiny is on your sideMaybe the angels have brought you together.A divine match, wouldn’t that be beautiful?"Every day I can’t help but hope she is rightBecause everything with you is effortlessWhat we have is beautiful as it is,I don’t think that means she was right, but maybeBut the song I feel when I am with you is flawlessI only wish I could hear it as well
Questions.Questions.Nobody has the answersBut everybody has the Y’s.Speculations of a faultless green pasture,Based on a line of best fit that was drawn to lie.The solution is a sequence of random numbers and dates.In addition to a complicated sum of love, grief, fear and hate.Which form a unique equation that can never be revealed.It’s the only bit of ignorance that still remains concealed.Even though we may feel defenseless.The possibilities are endless.The opportunities are relentless.Opinions become senselessAnd still we lie restless.Attempting to solve the unsolvableAnd control the uncontrollable.To know the unknowable.Kela Lewis-Morin
Semi-Detached.Semi-Detached.She was very sensitive.As if the volume was turned up in her head.She started using her mother’s sedatives,As a solution for her sleepless nights in bed.She couldn’t connect with any of her relatives,They never showed an interest in anything she said.Her attempts at socialising were tentative,So she conjured up imaginary friends instead.Her dogged detachment was her only imperative.She could not risk the chance of being misled.There was no one to peel back the layer of negatives.Too many years of tears have been bred and shed.The smile she occasionally displayed was purely decorative.She knows people will judge her before they have even readHer story because they’re too caught up in their own narrative.They only take the time to read your book once you are dead.They say we’re born alone and die alone.As humans we are built to survive and consume.Even if you are raised from a loving home.You can still feel out of place in your ow
Landmarksshe strummed his ribcagewith delicate fingers andhummed soft melodiesof unknown worlds –go to sleep, my dearest loveshe whisperedas she traced the landmarksupon his back –go to sleep.
MaybeJust give me one dream that isn't see-through.One substantiated claim to reality,that I might hold onto life with.Every quivering cell, mid-osmosis, begs youfor a shred of dignity with my tea.Just one chance for something heavy,something hard and room temperature. Real.I don't want to look through my day dreamsand see someone else's face there.I don't want to dream of those peoplewho may make, or break me, in the future tense.I am tired of milky white and reflective black.It is time for a life of colour and hope -and not looking back to see if the pastmatches up with the jigsaw map to the end game.I want to be in the game, participating,feeling, like I might make it there one day.Just give me something, that I can hold onto;something harder to see through than a whisperof that voice in the back of my mind that saysMaybe.
Pick up the PiecesYou can tell me I'm wrongYou can say its a lieBut dear friend they will leave youIn the blink of an eyeYour whole world will come fallingRight down to the groundWhy can't you seeThey're messing aroundYou can tell me I'm wrongBut you just can't see thisWhen they've gone and left youI'll pick up the pieces
Freedomsurrendering to the summer skies,she finds solace with the butterflies –spreading her arms out like wings,she dances on the clouds and sings.
No RegretsNo Regrets~Gandalfgirl579You are my everythingMy loverMy friendMy whole worldI would fight for youI would kill for youI would even die for youAll without a moment's hesitationLying here in this alleyWith you holding meAs the mugger who attacked us fleesI realize that I have died for youBut you want to know something amazing?I don't regret it at allBecause I'll always be with youEven if only in spirit
Never MindI guess you’re happy nowI don’t need to ask you howIt’s easy to seeHe isn’t meBut don’t think I understandBecause I gave you all I canAnd you just walked away from meLike I didn’t matter at allNever mind the way I feelNever mind the tears I criedNever mind the moments lostNever mind the time gone byNever mind the broken dreamsNever mind the last goodbyeNever mind the promisesNever mind, just never mindWhat is it that he gives youWhat was is that I didn’t doHow was I wrong?Why are you gone?I can’t bring myself to knowWhy you ever hurt me soAfter all the time we spent togetherLike I never mattered at allNever mind how I loved youNever mind how I triedNever mind that I need youNever mind that I criedNever mind what I surrenderedNever mind what it costNever mind that I’m lonelyNever mind that I’m lostNever mind what we wereNever mind what was trueNever mind I was happyNever mind I loved youNever
What a terrible thingSometimes life is painful,not for a discernible reason.Not for a route to something betteror a perversive remedyfor a wound long forgotten.Sometimes we drown in it,in the not yet,the not quite,the not at all.Sometimes even our eyelashesare too heavy,and keeping our eyes open enoughto see the truth is asking too much,and other times?Other times the truth isthe bacteria binding in your bloodbeneath your skin- it's inside -and it knows how to feed off of you.It tugs,it wretches,it wriggles until at last -it lets its forceful pair of handsslip tenderly under your ribcageto compress -down,down on your lungsuntil they are flatand stick to themselves,and leave you gasping; oh, oh the truth. What a terrible thing!
Keeper of the Clock TowerI am the keeper of the clock; the guardian of time. I am the music of passing ages and long forgotten worlds.Through the fleeting moments of time, she has wept over the keys of her eternal ivories, becoming the harmonious spells of her encumbrance. Many tears have been shed for the ticking hands of eternity as she sits alone; cursed to be alone for evermore. She rests on her immovable throne, singing the woeful song of her fate. Time is her puppet; her unending burden. Till the end, she is charged with its protection. Her sightless eyes see all; the past, present and future. She is as she is and has been; living in the tower.I am the keeper of the clock; the guardian of time. I am the music of passing ages and long forgotten worlds.
Lost NovemberI am lost November,with the breath of winterat the hairline of its neck.I am the blood orange thatsours a little too soon.A thirty day intuitionto a season of good will.A blip on the side ofthe road that melts easilyout of sight, out of mind.An unremembered instanceon a torn index pageof a forgotten, spineless book.I am lost November.Remember me the instancewhen you feel unremembered too.
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