Submissions by notinthesmiths

time,
a hurricane,
selfish in its devastating path,
swooping through blurred faces and forgotten phrases,
leaving behind endless debris laced in gold,

leaving behind visions of us,

murmurs lacking depth slip from a spiked tongue uttering,
three words with the momentum of an avalanche,
casing me in false optimism - an early death,
I reciprocate with the absence of regret,
a future entity lurking in the depths of a naive mind,

the intense euphoria of early love,
hands held tightly connecting memories of confessions, ...

only now do I realize,
in my warm embrace I held mountains,
strong in foundation,
yet ebbing away towards the summit,
where wind's cold edge weathered you to dust,
particles creeping through my skin,
infecting my mind with inconceivable visions,
of when we grew together,
entwined by nature's warm hands,

I remember when you first told me of your suicide attempt,
commencing storms which would never quite fade,
your presence slipping through my fingers,
seeping into crevices leading to the dystopia we dreaded,
a utopia radiated in the...

Sunday afternoon and it's become a routine of mine,
to fester away,
my glazed eyes cast upon the pale walls,
surrounding me as a sanctuary,
while reminding me of a fate worse which lies beyond,
as thoughts accumulate like dust upon obligations,
and I remember last summer,
when my face was aglow and I wore hope in my smile,
unscathed yet by the torment of tomorrow.

the pale boy with weary eyes,
burdened by his own problematic behaviour,
tall and so very very thin,
so fragile as his slender frame glides through the halls,
blue eyes glint a glare dismissive yet implying,
my inadequacy paling in contrast with his staggering glamour,
he walks with pride yet his confidence is low,
or apparently so,
time stops in the haze of a falsely optimistic,
deeply felt sadness,
as he grieves his own loneliness,
envisioning a woman with effortless charm,
with whom he can sail the galaxies,

but not me,
...

lugubrious,
continuously searching,
fastidious in my thoughts, everything is truth and everything is a lie,
( but what if this in itself is a lie? )
disconcerted in my daily activities as my mind orders me,
to stop and think for five minutes about how I'm disordered,
how I am alien to myself,
everyone glare in my direction and I understand now,
oblivious before as I walked upon the surface of the Sun,
and everything seemed so significant but never as significant as I,
for I stood as Aphrodite,
utter arrogance masked as self-loathing,
months on...