Red, the lines snake over the canvas
blistering mounds, red hills dwarf
the soft pale ground
this fire burns deep
Insatiable, the urge builds
nags, pulls, dominates thought.
Fight it and overcome, or
Succumb to the dull misery
Dreams bring perennial bliss, but
the fire wakes the sleeper,
disrupts, daunts and torments
this wretched soul
I fucking hate poison ivy.
I look into the depths of me
and find there is nothing to see
no hopes, no joy no longer
only black leaves on somber
trees swaying in the wind
rustling, ushering in
this feeling of dread, of fear,
I can’t help it, my mind unclear
of this danger I face,
my life’s a disgrace,
I tried so hard but failed
at pleasing you. My efforts paled
and broke down beneath me,
I long to hear your voice so sweetly
it echoes within me, caresses my heart
tells me everything’s okay, only to start
fading away, ever so softly
I never knew my actions so costly
you have left me here in my mind
alone, drowning, running out of time
to live, to see, to breathe
what the world has in store for me
in my mind, I stifle
under the weight, my soul full
of doubt, of regret, of love
Yes, mostly of love
No matter how much I hurt
I think of you, my love spurts
like an artery, gushing life’s nectar
to the surface, to fester
here in the light
my plight is my own
I cannot ask you to save me
only to cauterize this wound, to help me
lose this ineffable sadness
that has gripped my existence.
I love you so much
but you can’t accept me as such
a wretched creature
I long for death’s sweet feature
a cool, quiet embrace
to end this pain pouring down my face
to call this life to end
to make me whole again
I cry out to the false god above
set me free, or let me love.
Holy hell fucking god damn it. I can’t handle this.
Dreams
I dreamed I was happy. I held her in my arms. I woke up, and cried.
Today I have ruined the one thing I had going for me in my life. I feel so stupid. So fucking stupid. I don’t know what I’m going to do anymore. I really don’t. I’ve never had my life inverted before. I guess this is heartbreak. Even if it’s over, I don’t know if I’ll be able to accept that. Am I selfish to think that I can fix things? Is it naive of me to think that I can make things right again? It might me. But I have to believe I can. And more importantly, she has to believe I can. But the chances of that happening are next to nothing. I am the dumbest person alive.
“You cashed in silver, Mr. Iscariot, but me? I threw away gold.”
I threw away gold. I had everything I wanted and I threw it away. I threw it away.
What have I done?
The wind rushes through my hair, my clothes. It envelops me like you never could. Every curvature, every fold of my body, embraced, for once, without any doubt in my mind about its true intentions. As the air rushes past my ears, I hear its song. Sweet, the tune whistles, resounding in my head. I think of you. I turn over. The cliff above me hurtles away and away. Time has slowed to a crawl, despite how I long for it to stop. Funny, isn’t it? How I stepped off to get away from you and now you’re all I see? I look down. My life is over, but I knew that a long time ago. As the ground reaches forward to meet me, I hear your name. The wind, that bastard, a constant reminder. It’s sweet, beautiful, haunting song pries me apart. I wish for it to go, to leave me to my fate, but it persists. I hit the ground. For a split second, time stopped. For a split second, I felt no pain. For a split second, I saw your face. For a split second, I was happy, and in an instant, I embraced eternity.
I’m happy, but you tell me I’m not. Then I must not be. But I could have sworn I was. I still am. But I’m not. I’m acting weird. But I’m not. You say I am. Maybe I am.
Contemplative
I am dead
impossible, Poe said,
but he of all people should know
what lies beyond the shroud.
It is the pain that persists
when our loved ones turn to leave,
when we need them most.
it is the ache that quakes
in your heart when you fail
at loving, at living your life.
it is the ghost that haunts
your tired, withered frame
at all hours of the night
relentless, refusing to give peace.
It is the cold wind that howls
constant reminders, reflections
of your own insecurities, your own
shortcomings.
I am dead.
Impossible? No.
I am dead. And so are you.
this feeling
My heart hurts. It really sucks knowing your happiness is directly dependent on someone else. It’s extremely good when things are good, but it hurts like hell when they aren’t.
