Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
To hide one's self; not an idea so mind-boggling.
Though detailed, the mask belies the heart's sand-boxing,
"Immune to all toxins projected in offense".
It's nonsense, but needed for all that it off-sets.

It's hard to find strength in a world that won't want it
And, yet, harder still to sincerely be honest.
Self-critical composure of mine, as promised,
Lives effortlessly on; though hidden, undaunted.

Please excuse me for choosing words plainly unclear;
I am both a survivor and victim of fear.
Don't let him hear you move
Don't let him hear you breathe
Because the moment he does
Will be the moment he seethes

Thunder without lightning
A hailstorm of teeth
What he thinks he's fighting
So easily beyond me

Don't let him know you live
Because that, he will not stand
The occupant above us
Is a truly troubled man
I really should write the perfect line
With perfect will and aim and time

And I really should do a lot of things
That I keep on hoping tomorrow'll bring

But it never seems to bring it
Just like I never seem to write it

I had meant to think of a happy ending
Or at least of a good one




Oh, bother
Sometimes things, like poems and people, they end up on paths that nobody intended for them.
It is okay to embrace a miss, I think.
I arch my shoulders to my cheeks
And press my weight upon my feet
Agress my chest unto my knees
This shape I take; anxiety
She is sprawled; a vast expanse
Her eyes are islands in the dark
Her breath pulls in and the seas abide
She takes a look through your eyes

"I am alive"
To be alive
Is to be adrift.

To fight the sea
Is to know futility.
Feeling feelings
Thinking thoughts
Acting like a body
Attached to a rock
Next page