Are you sure of what you’re getting
The devil and god will always be raging inside me.
I sit in parking lots during my lunch hour listening to emo music and eating alone.
Because to me that’s what feels most like home.
Are you sure that’s what you want?
Because I always feel like I’m a grenade.
I don’t feel loved unless I am used and abused,
because that’s what my mother taught me what love is.
I am always fleeting like the wind because I am born of my father.
Who never stays around any longer.
Do you know what you’re getting into?
Because that’s what’s in me.
Are you sure of what you’re getting
I am an observer.
I watch as the world goes on around me
I feel like I am capturing moment in 3D
That are not mine to share.
The people who influence me I don’t even know.
In fact I’ve never said a word to them,
how I like what they have to say or appreciate them for what they do.
I just hopelessly listen.
My Facebook friends have lives of their own that don’t involve me. In fact I don’t talk to a single of the 109 people Facebook deems my friend. It feels like my friendship in fact lives vicariously through their posts. The simple fact that I can see into their life means hey were friends in some way.
I feel like loneliness combusts inside me like a setting sun, where the heat of the day still lingers but it’s starting to get dark.
I look at burnt bridges and past friends as if they are scars on my skin and for some godly reason I smile like saying I’d let you hurt me again. seeing the face of a person who you can’t talk to is like inhaling a balloon somehow the stagnant rubber flavoured air fills you with a breath of life you haven’t felt for years. Still the fear grips your stomach and rips your diaphragm down. Your heart skips a beat and you die inside.
There are certain feelings you just can’t hide from.
Castor and Pollux
Beacon me down,
I can feel the wind flow,
But the water is where I’ll go.
Maybe somehow deeper I’ll find
the keeper within myself.
These tridents are going places,
and I am coming along.
If only to point them to the stars.
Where they call fall from the heavens
Claiming all seven in their golden grasp,
and somehow we’ll find a way to not collapse.
To keep us from the icy deep,
This promise to myself I will keep.
Castor Pollux in a few months
Will be mine to keep.
For I will snatch the from Neptune’s deep.
Bring them back to this muddy sound.
So maybe for once in my life good this will once again come around.
I frequent strictly platonic,
I think it’s ironic I’ve become,
Catatonic and socially chronic.
I am bound up in chains in so
When the birds have their way.
I have my days,
If sitting alone in my room.
Dreaming of doom or something,
I need a broom so I can sweep,
Free this room of cobwebs and
I’m building around me not one
Single step, shall be laced with regret.
Traced to me,
Let me be free of these chains.
That bind me to me and let us just be,
So we can be we.
the last sentence :(
Everything is perfect until the last sentence…
I think i’ve got a million comments about the last sentence, but that’s the entire point to the poem. You fall in love with the feeling of being wanted, you fall in love with the places you visit, the routine, and mostly you fall in love with being comfortable. You are there because you want to be able to love that person, but you can’t force yourself, and you won’t.
the last sentence is what makes this so perfect. it’s honest and a twist that you aren’t expecting and I love that in writing.
this is actually one of the most beautiful things i have ever read..
How I always feel about people.
This is absolutely breathtaking and I cannot find the words to describe my adoration towards this beautiful piece of writing
i love this so much
My lack of sleep won’t make a peep.
Stuffed quietly underneath my eyes,
I carry on with lies.
Saying I’m fine or I feeling great,
When really I have to much on my plate.
I was told today not to get married,
To focus on the fish on my plate.
and it seams pointless and I feel irate,
But I can’t help but retaliate at the fact
That I am less of a man, because I lack
Worthless, unworthy and undid.
I give it my best,
But I’m not like the rest.
I’m no prodigy or genius.
Just a regular guy,
Trying not to be as stupid as I was yesterday.
Stutter in the moment
It is the immune to the sunset
The upset and reset of everything
That we ever let in
This is the movement the
Consignment of friends and we
all rise to the occasion get the bends
Because these feelings are so deep
We can’t help but feel the creep
This is a poem with out
Punctuation so you can feel
The situation the apprehension
The retention because when life
Falls out of place there is no comas
Or periods just strikes to the colon
Up through your stomach and into
So you can no longer sleep
And i can no longer see
I haven’t slept right in weeks
And the feelings I have sneak by
My brain into my heart
Beating me senseless and since this
Is myself I can put it on a shelf and
Say that yes
I do need help
There is a god shaped
key hole in my heart.
It leaks out dust, and debris, a wreckage of everything I carry with me.
Ripped pages of books never read,
And dried up blood from blood never bled.
I can try and say that it’s only in my head.
That these words don’t weigh me down like lead.
I tried buying lighter shoes,
But the whiter I dye my clothes,
My soul, my brain, my heart still knows.
There is a god shaped keyhole in my heart.
So where do I start.
Have a fine silver line,
and I find myself stuck between
Marvin’s Room and Houstatlantavegas.
This late at night they both sound alright…
But fuck that asshole,
and I do feel the lights.
Day and Night,
I feel it’s right,
that the beating of my heart,
and the pounding in my head,
make a rhythmic pulse that makes me feel less dead.
I’ve got ten years and lived past twenty one,
but the tears and lights that got me here,
are just as serious as the loaded gun,
the finding of my fight.
and I am supposed to feel alright.
I’m not dying, I’m just a dimmer light.
I may be turned on but i’m not going,
When 28 miles feels like
it’s moving faster than my life.
so the morning wail of my alarm clock
Will silence the mourning of my dreams
Hard and then softly
Drown me in a sea of let downs
Force me to work under ocean pressure
I lost it.
You turned and asked me where it went.
Out the door, under the bed?
I don’t know but I lost it,
and it quite possibly can’t be found.
You look at me in disbelief,
Then a strike of relief.
Because you know you’ve lost it too
and for a moment in grief,
we smile at each other.
Fuck the medication,
I need sedation or relaxation.
I am so god damn sick of this entire nation,
of inflation and desolation…
Irritation and immolation
I feel so empty,
and life so tempting…
It’s always two seconds away,
and I am always seventeen seconds behind.
Because if i could avenge my lost soul,
I would do it five hundred and thirty times…
Seventy seven time seven and I would still be unsure,
whether or not I would make it into heaven,
eleven eleven and all the wishes I’ve wasted.
fuck this sadness,
like a growing madness,
I promise you I am full of excuses„,
People always are,
The sweet summer air swells through our nostrils and
heats our souls to a boil.
The wind running though our hair like rapids,
breathing in the scent of the sense of something less…
The beautiful drives of the in between.
Stuck in the moments in the in between,
Like a permanent road trip not knowing where we’re going,
or where we’ve been.
But I know your fathers roots,
where we’ve grown from and where he’s been.
He is the earth and we are the trees.
Sky bound in a pirouette.
Falling into the sky,
Falling into each other,
So that our arms and legs like branches intertwine,
into a sweet summer romance,
and we’ll grow toward the endless blue sky,
as I grow into your endless blue eyes.
Falling into the sky,
Falling into each other.
Falling in love.
Like roots we grew in two different ways
Making our way into our own Hells
and I’m alright with that.
Your golden hair will soar on into
the infinity of my memory and
the soul that burnt with our friendship.
will rise anew. Golden boy blue,
you never needed a Phoenix,
You’re Icarus flying always close to
the sun and I was always the one
on the teeter of the barrel of the gun.
The ash and the smoke and the thunder,
It kept me there.
and once you flew to high and the fire,
Cradled us both until the gunshots,
and sun burns,
Sent us on a pirouette.
Hard on the ground.
It was myself I had to find.
The moment you turn.
From a face with eyes, a smile,
A voice with words and gestures.
To messages on a screen…
To a voice that is distant and alone,
Through a telephone.
The moment your eyes are puffy and red. Like the ones I wear on my face.
The ones from lack of sleep the night before… How could I sleep when even minute awake is another spent with the breathing, living, tossing and turning… Version of you.
Not the electric version on an iPhone screen constantly near death.
The distance my dear,
Will not effect the love I fear.
Because it will grow and grow until it is larger than the distance grown between us.
Twenty-One Thousand Six Hundred
Nautical Miles couldn’t keep us apart.
Even them I am not alone…
I am always with you, with the pieces of you you dropped and left behind I keep them here in my heart.