Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
mace May 11
held breath
the space above my eyes feel as though there are worms
eating up the words i try to understand with my eyes
forgot to breathe
flailing my hands wildly
far-sighted, unfocused, hurts to squint

turn my head,
the screen of my vision tilts & becomes shaky

what will happen in the following plot?
i used to always picture the end
when i used to give in to the crests & troughs of the static frequency

a tickling in my brain,
a strong desire to flood the mind
and let it run down my cheeks; violently
to shake out the funny feeling that grips my throat silently
& forms thoughts beyond my control.
a piece i found in my journal, written long ago around feb of 2021. i feel like i really had a way with words i can't seem to do now. we'll always have things we can improve on no matter how old you get, even if they were the same things you used to be good at.
Anastasia Jan 2022
As I become undone
My threads untangle
Every little knot unraveling
Their stories lost
Memories fade
Images drown in static
I succumb to little needles
Pricking every surface of my skin
While a song seeps from my throat
And leaks onto the dusty floor
Alone on creaky hardwood
In a dark
Dim
Crumbling
Home
stillhuman Sep 2021
I lay
dormient
as the colours of the world
spin around
me
This state of mind is poison that you ingest on your own
Nat Aug 2021
The laundry heap sighs, one shirt less burdened
Ever tense, the afternoon, ever still
Clouds crawl by like television static
Not a drop of rain meets the windowsill

Just a squatter, hidden away
Idle hands, second-hand body
A vacant home, a fragile world
Everything fits a bit oddly
Amanda Kay Burke Jul 2021
So much pain weighing down heavy heart
Wish I would let sadness go
Clinging to my skin like static
Stalking like own shadow
Sighs..
Ashlyn Yoshida Feb 2021
The open gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out
The light refracting across the silent room
Everything is closed off; the blinds; the doors; the boxes
The glass eyes of the house muffling the sounds of the outside world

The inhabitant grown a slave to watching
The gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out
Stretching lines, darkening eyes, smiles turned hollow
She'll trace the filtered light with frozen desperate fingers

Her sounds are empty and echo like a dripping water from a faucet
The tiled floor is as cold as the snow that falls. Unseen
The open gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out
The wind seems to be whispering words she no longer yearns for

The blood is dancing with the cold
Warming the static embrace of her head and fingers
The inhabitant closes the blinds again, hiding the quiet scene
The open gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out
Most people believe this is about suicide so I'm going to clear this up. The inhabitant and the girl are two different people. The poem focuses on a scene, but the whole purpose is to invoke the feelings that come with paranoia. It's about a man who killed a girl, but also talking about the guilt and fear of hiding a bad thing we've done. I hope it somehow showed what I was trying to convey.
I swallow your words
And begin to mellow out.
Turbulence in my bloodstream,
Yet static numbness all throughout.

An accent laced with malice,
By a tongue that knew no sympathy.
You graced me with the fortunes
Of love's complex simplicities.

Love baffles.
Love hurts.
Trivial hearts.
Giovanna Jan 2021
People are static.
Dynamic are their faces to you
and your position to them.
People never change, their priorities do!
Next page