Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘lifetimes’

The splinter sometimes works its way through

Just deep enough under the skin

To provoke the split

Between outside and in

A view through the haze

Of bare survival

Of dampening down every nerve

Still beating a rhythm

I scream

Impassive responds

With the like

There is nothing of note here

Other than duty, capability

Duty, duty, duty

Nothing builds

No structure

What will breach

And birth the waste

Screaming bloody, hoarse, loaded

Impassive responds

With the like

This is not what I do

There is no right time to pull through

No shoulder, no deeper, no grace

No space

For leading the way through the impassive

No anchoring line

Read Full Post »

I hear the whispers

Baby I hear them speaking the truth

To fall for you

I’ve heard your words fall from a thousand lips

From faces no longer clear

You can’t have me

Pay no mind to my consent

Pay me no mind

There is nothing good left between

 

Glacier passion devoid

If it makes you less sad

Consider me a broken thing

Beyond emotional recovery

Still fit to ride

Past investment

Holding fast and whittling away

 

When the light falls

And I become a still, solitary shadow

Don’t turn it into something it’s not

You took all I have

Frozen cunt

Disengaged gag reflex

The place where I feel home

Read Full Post »

You can take my mind on an adventure

Show it the world, let it sin and stain

Until it becomes static

A head on the shoulders

Of age

Pain

Fearful living and failure of oblivion

It is so easy to remember the sweet

Drowning of the mind

The quiet

Now the volume is a solitary mute

You changed

I did not change

You grew

I grew stunted

And looking into your eyes, I see the climate change

Further away from you

My bruises show

My

Allegiance to the static

Read Full Post »

Small music on my mind

Brings me to you

In a haze of humiliation and bemusement

I remember those drowning days

Of pained misery

Here I am, standing the way I am supposed to be, stilled and silent

Inert for that few moments of relief from the paralysed blood sluggishly driving me away from reality

My mind whispers, an explosion in the silence

I just really want to fucking feel anything but this absence of

(heart) (head) (hope) (ambition) (noise) (warmth) ( of

(heart) (head) (hope) (ambition) (noise) (warmth) ( of

(heart) (head) (hope) (ambition) (noise) (warmth) ( of

(heart) (head) (hope) (ambition) (noise) (warmth) ( of

My body is battle worn, scarred and no longer up to the challenge of a fluttered eyelash

Without the body, the walls are a thousand years in standing, a thousand ships launched and dashed like hope

This body is cleaved, deformed and moulded now to a fearsome sight

The mind is a bear chewing off its own leg

Absent and running on instinct

Read Full Post »

I lost count of the number at that cold, calculating age of eighteen

And some months

As another slightly shrivelled disappointment

Pumped the last of its vigour

Into the empty receptacle at three in the morning

Behind the NCCP car park near that little club with the sofas

Before comfort became a necessity in nightclubs

And excess was a necessary outlet for madness

That beautiful insanity that accompanies the absoluteness of that cold, calculating age of eighteen and some months

The number rose, the incessant pounding wearing the walls smooth

Worn, weary, a thousand years of subtle change, to evolve

Lackluster, listless passion dissipating into resignation

Once I was indignant, with the world at my feet and the bay at my mercy

Until I stopped counting the numbers

Read Full Post »

I create to despair

Once I fucked to all those classic indie songs

They now play on radio two

When they played on radio one

Or not on the radio at all

But in vinyl shops

But in the rooms of boys

Read Full Post »

I once wrote the most perfect words

On paper, using a list of serious and well-meant memorials

To those few people who were on the peripheral

I sucked down the various, easily accommodated lies

With a final hoorah of golden sour mash bourbon

I lay my head back, waited for the calm

I woke, capitulating to the narcissistic, the encouraging and the masturbatory

Fantasists, white coats hiding those turgid offerings

I flexed and cried at the correct times, I flexed and felt reality chafe

Ate the burnt offerings of positivity, hope, reassurance

Concealed the letter, soured and sullen

It never takes too long

For me to arrive back here until I am gone

Affirmations failing, I burrow while you congratulate

I live on my knees

Doe eyes, hidden gag reflex

Dulled wit and burnt out

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

Drem

Write, Art, Heal & Inspire

Rebellious Scapegoat

Refuse to conform

Literature Is My Porn

"She read books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live."

THE POET BY DAY

Poets, Poetry, News, Reviews, Readings, Resources & Opportunities for Poets and Writers

Writing Through Trauma

Post-traumatic Growth and Fiction Writing

SAINTSWEST

Just my thoughts for all to behold

sheila sea

like thalassic velvet

laumarl

small, loud, full of words

ultimatemindsettoday

A great WordPress.com site

Faded Seaside Mama

The Pondering of a Confessional Poet

Logical Quotes

The Pondering of a Confessional Poet

A Narcissist Writes Letters, To Himself

A Hopefully Formerly Depressed Human Vows To Practice Self-Approval

Thomas

Photo, writing.. and other things exploring my mind

thoughtstarspirit

Poetry for your mind

Pix to Words

Image ~ Inspiration ~ Insight

Catharine Beaton

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back

Ordinary Average Thoughts

Confounding expectations since 1963…

Selected Essays and Squibs by Joseph Suglia

The Web log of Dr. Joseph Suglia

Rain Desert Review

Words Are Rain Upon The Desert