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Caught between currents
pushing this way and that.
Unable to move, or even make sense.
Spear headed by doubt, tripped by fear,
only to fall, without landing clear.
The pressure from all, it's an unbearable one;
jading the mind, the body,
but the soul sees clear.
This is a struggle I hold most dear;
fighting to see, but really,
fighting to be.
Empty HopeI hate when I get the feeling of hope, empty hope.
When you know it will just lead to another cliff.
It’s a feeling that clouds your judgment,
that you chase after, and once it clears
it’s too late and you’ve already fallen
But it’s the path to that cliff, that’s just so enticing
Full of excitement, curiosity and joy,
feelings once thought lost.
You can feel it and it’s true
But you can’t quite get a grasp on it
It teases and pulls you closer.
Then poof; it’s gone.
It’s clear again
And you’re alone,
with only a memory;
Of what was and could have been
but never will be again.
The Boy Who Wouldnt EatIf you can flutter
I have failed you,
for you were not forged
to be so insubstantial as that
You were writ
to be an epic fable
of endings ignored,
of outlasting your body
through the sheer will
of a writers starving heart
through a broken, bowed
but bravely abiding body
that fights the soul
to comprehend Beauty.
Five AMPre-dawn darkness again, seething, quiet
A monster hugging the city
How heavy, how suffocating it is
The clock has run down on time for dreaming
A void between night and morning
Ready to swallow everything up
A time for old men's reflections
On love, and loss, and sorrow
Oppressive black sky, you eat everything
But the all-night diner
Where lonely old men sit
Drinking coffee at five AM
................written in a frenzy and run-on
and exclamation points
used in rapid succession
words all blurred
so bare bones it's bloody
strung out and on display
in a frightening combination
of paragraphs and stanzas
punctuation gone mad
ellipses my new black
used and abused
then spit out
in gratuitous repetition
there is no word count here
no hearts dotting the i's
just a string of letters
done up in cursive
but not very pretty at all
QuicksandYou trapped me
Dragged me below the surface
And held me there
You chained me
Put brass around my ankles
And left me struggling
You broke me
Beat me with whips made of hate
And hurt me more
You changed me
Made me who you wanted
And killed me inside
You hid me
Stole me away from the light
And made me blind
You crushed me
Blew my dust in the wind
And danced on my grave
surrounding my body
And now I'm twenty feet under
With no chance of being saved
From Your 'Secret' AdmirerHeaven,
this is not a love letter
I will swear to God,
with a halo on my head
and a hole in my heart.
But the fact is I revere you
more than I have any right to.
After all, we are nothing except
who have awkward conversations.
So why is it that every time the line
falls silent I panic, worrying that your shadow
will make my efforts nothing but a distant memory,
when every word you speak strongly marks my mind?
Simple: I fear having something to lose
and losing the nothing I have. You are
treasure to me, and this note becomes my confession.
Sincerely- I typed this, but I'm sure you'll recognize the handwriting.
Death, Judgment, RebirthLast Time in the ICU
Shadow rats, beady red eyes focused hungrily
Stay still too long and they’ll swarm
Sharp little teeth rending flesh
They know the sick and weak
They can wait
Tenth floor ICU, down with the disease again
He’s resting quietly, the nurse says
She looks like a huge black rat
Does she know what’s happening?
Closing the door
She walks away
Sweet childhood dreams are interrupted
Rats gnawing away at the edges
Toothy little kisses all over
Cleaning, cleansing scurry
Down to the bone
Sentenced to Live
Firelight, poker-faced patchwork man reading aloud
An old but vaguely familiar tome, his tone is somber
Was I one of the wicked? Weren’t we all?
Who can say that they were good?
Sentenced to live yet another life
I cry; I’ve had enough living
I want to sleep forever, leave my shell behind
To crumble to dust, useless, I won’t need it
Every door opens to the same world
Is this hell, then? The onl
give me a challenge, give me you.i have grown
the blood in my veins
have become more
than plasma, and i
am now trapped
within my own hollowed-out
this haze of
has to be transitory--
i can't let it be anything
The partyFlashing lights
Smoke all around
About to pass out
My head starts to hurt
I can't take this anymore
So without saying anything
I find the exit
And escape that place
"How can someone have fun in there?"
DistemperOh, did you scream?
No, ninety ravens
released from the rack of my ribs
in a ravage of wings
have disquieted the cat.
Oh, an aspirin for my mind
(lay your head in my hand
drink me down, feather-drown)
thin its belly-close blood
uphold the constitution
of my hollow-cast heart.
[Fire the dragon
the fairy waters her way
across the winter]
So stout, so ale,
hold fast, touch bone
Oh, you would rather die
than bring home bad meat.
FlowingThe feather falls,
flowing through time; unknowing
of which way it's being taken, it sways.
Sending shivers through time, touching lives like mine,
for the feather is blind, and unfailingly kind.
Nimbly passing through, the muck and the grime;
let's hope it lands with a soul, that will treat it kind.
Our DutyWe swallowed the path home
Because we were hungry,
Though starving is an ongoing
Story, an empty bag
Dancing in the streets,
Full of an unfastened voice
Walking through the house,
Wind unchained, heart admonished.
Heaven fills its eyes, crawls away,
That sleeping boat content to follow
The vacant waves, intervals
Of dying that we dare not interrupt,
And we watch the kind ear shrinking
From our charcoal docks; heaven
With a full stomach crawls away.
This is what we were put here for.
Leaving Southampton She was in the kitchen when he stumbled in noisily, tripping as he went past the shelves and catching the edge of the table to keep himself from falling.
Pretending not to hear the stream of curses that followed, she kept her eyes fixed on the dishes, letting her hand trail in the soapy water. There was a loud scraping of wood against grimy concrete as he drew a chair and collapsed into it. At this she looked up, and after a moment's hesitation, she said, unnecessarily, "You've been drinking."
He clutched his head and said nothing. He hadn't shaved in weeks and stank of sweat and alcohol; he looked much older than his eighteen years.
They sat in silence for a while. Then he announced, loudly, "Fuck."
She didn't bother to tell him off. She just waited. And jumped when he suddenly brought his fist down, hard, onto the table.
"Our lives here are s
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More