When the quiet invites all the bad thoughts in... Screaming sounds better than havingto listen...
Category: My Poetry
Your
Your voice is in my head but it's such an awful shame, that I can't see your mouth moving when you say my name. Your fingers tend to wander and play those little games, that heighten all my senses and implode all of my veins. Even with my eyes closed your face is in my brain, affixed into my memory while still shadowed by flame.
Burn
Choose your side and stand on the end, for there's nothing left here we can mend. This bridge needs to burn so let's take it down, I've laid both our fuses for us on the ground. Now strike your match and I'll strike mine too, so our flames can engulf what I've wanted to undo.
Forget-Me-Nots
Don't give me a bouquet of pale purple promises, give me something that lasts. Don't let me wilt away as time tries to fade and decay my existence in your mind. Give me a space, a spot, or a spare seat in your memory. Give me a small place where I may sit contently knowing that it's me you still remember.
Precipice
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.
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...
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