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Entry #293

Serious Ambiguous pain? Write some!

7/26/14 by beastkid7
Updated 7/26/14


valid right? The sickness coursing threw my vain is fate as plain and cliche as your name and date. Hot songs bubbling in your throat and waves of ocean drowning the notes. Steam brimming threw white bone cage and boiling the heart to a mellow rage. Crimson colors course inside, the the walls now melt, were heart resides. 


Lies, that I tell myself. Eyes, that I can not help. Rise, even when I melt, because the skin I felt, that one time is boiling in the back of my brain. She is a stain. 


An amalgam of memories. Every last one of them with there rosey stares and blooming eyes. My head tied. I lied, to myself. I put all of them on the shelf, and memories burn when left alone. But they don't burn out. They burn in. When abandoned they feel as if they were sin, and if not pulled to center, burn at brim.

 
They say truer words were never spoken, but words are broken and shattered in. So to speak, always, is to lie as honestly as one can.


Caved, the pollution thought they found a place. My mind was their solution, you could see it in my face. That I thought I was noble but at the same time a disgrace. How many people need to look at me kind. For my mind to believe I'm not a waste.


Rocking back in forth. Cradling my imperfections. My hands cupped over the top of my insane. Words fickle, false and tickle as they bumble out of my brain.


Not, broken. I'm a slot token and the prize is nothing but me. Don't look so disappointed, I can draw you a drawing of me dying, by me. 


I'll be there, don't you worry. I'll be there when the grass gets green. Poor some water on me honey, with your eyes so that I too can bleed.


It's been a while. I have a bit of a rhyming disease right now.
Anyway, I'm just trying scrape out the darkness from the edges of my skull. Soak up the negative with a sponge. Because if I don't it festers in my soul, and then to death, I plunge.


I feel better.
 


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VicariousEVicariousE

7/27/14

Nice poetry man, glad to hear you're not letting the darkness get to toxic levels, letting your countenance get all disheveled. In circles traveled collecting bright, we know we're mortal, every night.

If I say any more, I'll sound more like a 70's prog rock concept album :)

7/28/14 beastkid7 responds:

Thanks, haha, that was great though! I love it