October 2020

Poetry Drafts / / By

griefxaddict:

10/10/20

There are some things too heavy to hold- This body. This hollow body. This brief beacon of awareness. This sack of borrowed bones. This fragile flame whispering in the dark.

We are already drowned. Already dark. A cold beach at night, salt breeze and sand. I followed the stars and washed up on this coastline. This shivering walk. Hungry sea.

Ask the thunder to stop howling. How the storm still hurts. How can the world be so hard? So blue? How can you hold in a voice that begs to burst out?

Fingers. Or claws. Or talons. They cut me all the same. My flesh torn, wounds open for your healing. Soft mouths breathing together. Sentences barely started, everything said in the silence between waves.

The autumn lives in you. The clear blue skies, the changing leaves. The leaving. The memories, the moods, the savage ruin. Why does the pain of being devoured feel so bright?

And yet I barely breathe these days. I exist only to repeat the hymns that praise you. But I will remain as silent as you need me, with all my love echoing through my caverns. These things, unspoken. These hands, still shaking. These things, too heavy to hold.

Poetry Drafts / / By

fifty-shades-of-apathy:

Mind’s Eye

I don’t hide from the world

I hide from the world my mind made

from perceptions that are

my perpetual persecution

from the disturbing thoughts

like ghosts that haunt

I hide from those eyes

that sprouted from my skin

back when it began

snakes born of sickness

the birth of self-criticism

the inception of self-consciousness

venomous terror

invading my veins

a heart held hostage

to pain

at the end of

a defeated day

I am a crumpled poem in the trash

broken pens

my heart is emptied

of the pulse of words

everything that matters

atrophies

I lay listless

speechless

I let the apathy

swallow me

suffocate all feeling

I want to drown

until morning.

Little Bird

Poetry Drafts / / By

the-destiny-of-the-pendulum:

held like breath
in lungs of glass
    a fragile hope

rendered intangible
this bird, too meek
     to part its beak
and make a sound

docile and
weighing
      almost nothing
still, it must be grasped

latent are its wings
heart hushed by the wind

lullabies scare
what is tender
        and quiet
for fear of
      waking.

Inflated / Dangling

Poetry Drafts / / By 
I dressed you
With my pleasure
in mind,
Stockings of cheap origin & a top
covering
*nothing*





I undressed you
With my pale blue &
left you waiting





/cuffed/





with an inflated ego
ergo
without a sum, a cum --





dangling
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