The ledge I walk is a thin precipice, Of mental regressions and pure recklessness. One misstep and I fall into the direction, Of extreme mania or a sinking depression.
Category: My Poetry
Prettier
My pain has always been prettier on paper... The way my tears land and make the ink bleed through the faded blue lines... The way my frustration smears the page into blurs of illegible letters and marbled designs... The way my notebook's corners are curled during the hours of countless sighs... And the way my fingers twist my misery... So that it's prettier than what's inside.
Guests
Like unwanted party guests the thoughts arrive, casually striding in together to fuck with my mind. They're compulsive, intrusive, and highly erratic, depressive, manipulative, and obscenely manic. They've had no invite or welcoming at all, yet they play in my head like a reckless free-for-all. They'll take what they can until they've had enough, while I watch from the corner sitting silently in disgust. For I can't get them out or exonerate their presence, so patiently I just wait for their eventual evanescence.
Eager
They pictured her unclothed more often than covered... As they mouthed all the words she knew would be uttered. Her pale freckled skin was consumed by their eyes... As they overlooked flaws and succumbed to her lies.
Indisposed
She laid there desolate and indisposed... Her cold fingers twisting strands of fine blonde hair. Her green eyes staring at nothing but the ceiling... While her mind tried to remind her why she ever cared.
Consonants
There's times when words hit you harder than gravity. Every syllable strikes you effortlessly between your eyes and every vowel punches you remorselessly in the face. But the consonants... They can just tear straight through your flesh...
Hazel
I remember those eyes... Those eyes are an olive green as dense and soft as moss. Their earthy hue melding into shades of warm coppers and rich browns. Gleaming as they watch inquisitively, studded by delicate golden flecks.
Goodbyes
The unwanted goodbyes leave only emptiness. They leave plans half-full, memories half-empty, and force us into a bitter, half-assed form of acceptance. They leave us feeling numb and stagnant in our sorrow... As we realize what could have existed, but never will.
Inevitable
The feelings are inevitable coming quickly and without cause, destroying my self-worth while focusing on my flaws. The emptiness remains as they sabotage and consume, disintegrating my happiness so my despair can be exhumed.
Glasses
Those rose-colored glasses had changed to blue, So previous perceptions no longer came through. Each pink-tinted lens had been graciously replaced, Providing me the clarity that revealed my mistakes.
AO Poetry 
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