I look to inspire, but feel nothing but desire The longing for more Continuously looking to pour, All of myself into every activity I can't hold back the creativity It flows like a river Enticing like a shiver
I cannot relate For all of this is fake My desire is harmful I'm truly sorrowful
Mania is a swarm of inconsistencies A ride filled with contingencies All to prevent the inevitable fall To hold my hand when I hit that wall A come down like no other For all it does is smother, Away the...
I wish I could say I was the kind of child who watched the moon from his window, would turn toward it and wonder. I never wondered. I read. †Dark signs that crawled towards the edge of the page. It took me years to grow a heart from paper and glue. †All I had was a flashlight, bright as the moon, a white hole blazing beneath the sheets.
While my heart beats, my body is still With my eyes open everything is dark I can hear sounds but not the sound of you And when I try to feel, I feel empty Some days I'm allowed to see outside See the light, feel the warmth and hear your voice As much as I would love to stay outside My visits are cut short I'm dragged back in falling to the bottom Your voice fading until it's forgotten And so it begins again While my heart beats, my body is still
i just want to get lost for a certain amount of time. lost in my own cosmos, in the depth of my own thoughts. where no one can bother me where i can find silence or peace even. go through a slumber rest from chaos escape from all the uproar to close my eyes shut and elude all the turmoil to find solitude and find meaning then I'll come out worthy to live in a beautiful state of peace
Barren trees with giant fingers raised to the sky begging the heavens to return rain to the earth so life can begin anew. The prison of snow trapping the potential of new birth from the life giving sun, trapped but screaming to be let out to run in the springtime like children in the sunshine. The battle between the sun and the cold for control of life itself. Life reluctantly adjusts but grits itís teeth in rebellion...
Melancholy runs through me straight to the bone. Sitting in my flat as always alone. Sounds in my head take on a deathly tone. No voice comes out, only a tortured moan. My heart's as heavy as a solid stone. The demons in my head are truly my own. Wish I could say my mind has grown. But every chance I've had I've truly blown. Wish there was a different me, maybe a clone. Who could repent of all the seeds I've sown. Another shit poem I hear you all groan. But this is the last I'll submit from my lonesome throne.