And After, I Couldn’t Bear The Ocean For Thelongest Time. Until Today, When For The First Time I Wanted

Words flow from the deepest gashes of our deepest injuries. If you treat the wound and let it scab over, The words won’t come anymore.

stay miserable because I like the way you bleed. (via housewiththereddoor)

poetry is not just words nor rhythm or rhyme poetry is not just a moment in time it is not ink upon a crinkled page poetry isn’t merely a kiss…a stolen glance

poetry is in all things every breath storm

…moment

you

It was evening then. Just 7:30, but the night had already set. The dim streetlight cast a bluish hue over me. I was walking in the street, towards the pool side of the B block. I was wearing a hoodie,the hood covering my head. My gait and the hoodie signalled ignorance but I knew it was just a pretense. I knew it hid me from the gazes of other, it hid me from their faces, which told me what they were thinking, it hid me from thinking too much. Cold winter wind was blowing. I was wearing shorts and could feel it flowing around my bare shins. It flew through me. The coldness went through me like a ghoul. It sucked energy from me. Goosebumps signalling its departure. Leaving me momentarily empty. But I felt alive. The heat in me receded. The anger subsided. The cold wind felt fresh in my lungs. It chilled my nose. It felt tingly. The wind was addictive. I wanted more cold, more release. I wanted to feel it in my body. I wanted to drown in it. It gave me relief but took my life. While I write this my nose bleeds. I feel the red warm blood flowing out, dropping to the ground. Turning from deep red to ferric tangerine. The wind was parasitic.

poetry is not just words nor rhythm or rhyme poetry is not just a moment in time it is not ink upon a crinkled page poetry isn’t merely a kiss…a stolen glance

poetry is in all things every breath storm

…moment

you

Meant To Be Bad

An Angel

Everyone has one

They watch upon us, they say

Aiding us through strangest of means

But when your angels turn to beasts

And haunt your dreams

Darkness spreads everywhere, no way out

You must become comfortable in this hell

For now fury is your peace

Your demons, they can’t be drowned

And you start to sink in the black water

They are your salvation

What is there in morality?

Submit

You are meant to be bad

You shall so enjoy, you feel

Revenge from fate

Although this path is forlorn and condemned

And a transient relief

Who is to say I won’t succeed?

Lifeline (a poem)

Lifeline

My dog doesn’t realize how his leash is a lifeline a grip on his reality keeping him from the cold regardless impact of cars or the enticing aroma of freedom that would lead him so far from home he might never make it back no matter how strong the pull of his hunger or the ache for his toys and bed or even the sound of his name being called out over and over through all the empty streets within my ever-broken heart.

They Change Us

From man To monsters

Frome monster To men

Such Mercurial Is Our Nature

Good stuff.