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helios Feb 29
i'll dream sometime, someday, somewhere
lost in a sea of endless thoughts
think of the things that were once there
think of the things that are now lost

i know it hurts, because it should
and yet i mourn the mounting tide
if i could fight it, know i would
i wish i'd never stepped aside

tomorrow marches into frame
why does it always go so fast?
to douse the fire, **** the flame
to cut my tether to the past

all good things must one day end
i never thought it would be you
all i can think, without you, friend,
is when you're gone, what will i do?

i'll dream sometime, someday, somewhere
lost in a sea of endless thoughts
i'll say a quiet, sorrowed prayer
and hope it covers up my sobs
helios Mar 2023
i look upon the horizon
with gratitude thick on my breath
and tears unforced,
in plato's beauty i am reminded
that i live for imperfection
helios Mar 2023
a lethargic step is
weighed by distance,
so:

a stumble, a fall
is nothing more than
continuation
helios Feb 2023
i know it well:
all good things come to an end,
but it's hard to remember.
and i ebb and flow
in an endless expanse
dispersing my weight
on a lukewarm ocean.
perhaps there is beauty
in the way things grow and fall;
good times never last
but neither do bad,
yet i cannot share that sentiment
an acknowledgement of change
because this pit in my stomach
hurts like nothing i've ever felt
and the lump in my throat feels infinite.
i wonder if this is it
if this is who i am
if this is all i'll ever know;
the waves grow choppy under my weight,
turmoil feels sweet in an empty body,
anxiety reminds me that i'm alive.
and it almost feels like a cruel joke
because i can hear myself breathing
i know the comfort of ground under my feet
i can see how the earth moves with me
yet it all seems so far away.
does it ever change? for better or worse?
am i bound to this water, smothered by waves?
everything is an echo of what once was;
all i can count on is the heartbeat in my ears.
sorry for the mediocre formatting
helios Nov 2022
my bedroom is dimly lit
and i sit barely awake, slumped
against my desk, the glow of
a monitor drawing my attention

and i realize i don't want to write
i want to sleep, dream, breathe easy
but tomorrow frightens me,
wavers against my field of vision
and makes it hard to stand up

a reply from a friend
snaps me out of my daze
the not-so-subtle ding
of a not-so-funny message
ambience plays gently
and i continue to ramble
far past my bedtime
deep into nothingness
pouring out like an
unstoppable waterfall
til i am empty once more.

it just feels so pointless
i don't know what i gain
from doing these movements
from memorizing the keys
from knowing it all
with my eyes closed

maybe i should have gone outside today
felt the sun sink into my skin
felt a breeze rather than this stagnant air
felt a chill outside of room temperature
maybe i should have gotten up today
maybe i should have drunk more water
eaten better. slept more. lived bigger.

i am plagued by what-ifs, hauntings
of things that could have been. dreams
of a different past, visions of a different future.
and yet i remain the same, unchanging, unmoving.

i could have died yesterday,
i could still die today,
i could die tomorrow.
and yet... does it matter?
time stands still for me.
the hourglass is frozen,
sand stuck in midair.
i almost want to reach out
grasp it in my hand
crack the glass,
let it loose.

i squeeze my eyes shut.
the monitor's glow is burned
deep into my eyelids;
i can still see it when i look away.
my "poetry" (if you are so inclined to call it that) happens over the span of weeks. i write something in the haze of depression, think "oh god, that's pretty bad" and move on. then a few weeks, or months, or even a year later, i come back to it, think... "hey... this is kinda relatable!" and work from there.

but it's relatable in a bad way. in a way i wish it wasn't. i would someday like to come back to a poetry piece of mine and not remember that feeling i poured so deeply into my writing. to see the mad ramblings of a hollowed out loser and think "man, what the **** was i thinking when i wrote this?"

for now, all i can do is continue to stitch together these half hearted attempts at putting words to emotions, at creating transitions that sound pleasant in nature and endings that are a satisfying close. god, it's so hard. i don't even know if i'm talking about poetry anymore.

okay, that's all. another proverbial blog post done. wow! who knew it was this easy?

goodnight, folks!
helios Jul 2022
i am filled with a
deep, powerful,
angsty and artsy
desire to create.
what? i know not.
how? even less.
but ****, if it doesn't
gnaw at me and
engulf me alive, this
painful, awful sensation
praying and clawing at
my fingers- to type, to
paint, to write, to draw.
this desire to create is
my ultimate betrayal.
because it reveals that i
have lied about not caring -
all i want is to leave myself,
traces, where someone else
may find them. a note in
between a book at the library.
a comment on a forgotten blog.
a message to an unused email.
i want to remember and i
want to be remembered.

and yet when i find myself
in front of the computer,
hands poised at the keys;
when i'm gripping a pencil,
begging to begin;
when my mouth is open,
and i wish to speak;
i find that there is nothing.
i am empty; i am a void.
woo hoo

i literally only write poetry when i'm depressed. if you could even call this poetry. cuz honestly it seems more like a little jumble of words with sporadic spacing to me. but whatever. art is what i make it. eye of the beholder. if i call this poetry, **** right it is! or something like that.

it's been a long while. i wish i could claim it's because i haven't been depressed. god, that's the dream! but, alas, i have simply... been empty. i still am. but desperation settles deep and i needed to write something.

i despise (to reiterate - DESPISE) the poems on this account. but it feels cheaper and ******* to remove them and pretend they didn't exist. like, yeah it is dumb that i wrote faux artsy poems about love and *******. all caps story about losing myself? i feel sick just thinking about it. but that's the **** i wanted to write! so be it! i'm sure i'll look back on this poem in a year or so and feel the same way. perhaps that is self growth! :)

here is the starting verse (not sure if that's what it's called? do not know poetry terms very well) to this vent-y poem that i ended up removing because i didn't think it fit very much. but i feel bad letting it turn into dust and would like to give it a warm thank-you and farewell here:

i'm so sick of
these excuses,
this "executive
dysfunction" thing,
these late-night tears
and week-long
procrastinations.

it is perhaps the truest statement of all in this entire poem for me. and i do feel a slight remorse at deleting it so. feels dishonest; at least this dissuades that guilt a little.

you (if you are reading this; perhaps no one will and it is simply a shout into the endless void of a grayish-whitish poetry site) may wonder "why is this person writing so much in the notes of a mediocre vent poem? can't they just make a blog?" and i would tell you it's the exact message of this poem.

everything i do is a shout into the void. the internet is sort of like a very crowded street, but everyone is wearing headphones. even though it is highly likely no one is ever going to read this, there is the slight possibility they will. someone may hear over their blasting music/podcasts/whatever they listen to! and oh, the self esteem boost i would get! at just the THOUGHT! at the sight of "10 views" ! what a dream!!!

and that is why i write all this nonsense here. my proverbial blog post. i hope someone sees it. they don't have to read it; i just want them to see this big fat block of grayish letters (not sure if there's other themes on hello poetry but i just use the basic ***** regular mode) and at LEAST think "who the **** would write this ? i have to scroll all the way past this? for ****'s sake" i would like to be the pebble in someone's shoe for a moment. but hopefully less annoying.

well. that is all! i can only put off the next day for so long. at one point i have to accept it is coming regardless.

i hope you have a wonderful day. goodnight and farewell!!!!
helios Nov 2021
it was easier when i was younger
because i still had time
they said i'd grow out of it
yet here i am, still the same
i guess i could say i told them so
but it feels like i'm just laughing at myself.
nothing ever changes
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