I had been prepared
For failing a class,
Forgetting my homework,
Or for losing my notes.

I could have handled the storms
On my way to my next class,
The foot of snow in the middle of April,
Or the heatwave in September.

I’ve spent my life preparing myself
For any challenge that may come my way,
And out of all of this I was still unprepared
For you to up and leave my life.

Prepared // -STG (inksplatteredpages)

35 notes

Cracked lips plead

Small needle inserted provides they say

A dry throat croaks a request

Ignored

 .

White sterile walls

Periodic checks on the hour

Poke and prod to make sure it all still functions

Beats erratic, as wishes seem to come true

Delusional fades away

     s   l   o   w   l   y

 .

Electricity shocks to the core

In an instant both alive and dead

The balance weighed softly

To which end the scales tip

The recipient doesn’t get the choice

 .

Blurred visions between painful reality and erratic dreams

The fog lifts itself to reveal the present

 .

Wild eyes scream

Lips pursed shut

The urge to hold arms together, but

The ties at the side of the bed prevent

Panic

 .

Awareness hits like a freight train

Fractured memories of crimes committed

Committed is the right word, but failure ensued

 .

A lady questions for the intent

Commit, or to let go

The reserve of the word that meant the end

Smile with all strength and do what’s best for them

 .

Claim false knowledge

Admit no guilt and hope for freedom

 .

Freedom from the place that could be salvation

Freedom to return the decaying structure

Freedom to try again

 .

Finally a painless slumber occurs,

Unaware of the wheels in motion

The tears shed on behalf

Sweet dreamless rest

 .

Opening eyes means remembrance

Wrists hurt, but can be rubbed

A hug towards the self

A small measure of comfort for the hours ahead

 .

The true victim enters,

Eyes cast downward, as she approaches bearing a tray

 .

A swash of red paint onto the roasted bread

Sweet to the lips of the many

To the few the syrupy spread brings about the taste of

Life

    — I shouldn’t still be alive 

1 note

please don’t tell me destruction is beautiful because it’s not. There is nothing beautiful about your heart shattering. It’s actually quite sad. Please stop saying how sadness is poetry. Because yes, you can write quite good poetry when you’re sad but, you can also write good poetry when you are happy. Sadness is not beautiful. but it’s you yourself that’s beautiful, not the sadness.

4 notes

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
e. e. cummings (via furfurher)

3 notes

Are we just ashes and wine?

Fuzzy appendages,

Wide eyes seeing only in half light

Nerves depressed to the extreme, finally some peace

Music mumbles in the background

The last of your guests stumble upstairs

Slobbering all over each other,

Guess they can’t feel their faces either

Where did you go?

 .

The water ring on a coffee table will drive you crazy tomorrow

I laugh

You’ll clean everything but this stain won’t go away

Guess I should have used a coaster

Now at least you’ll have a silent reminder

 .

Time can erase the bruises you left with me

Time can erase the dull ache of wanting

Time can never erase who you are

 .

Smile sweetie, your new girl will want to impress

Are you finally happy with her?

I hope so anyways, no bitterness in my voice

Maybe if you’re happy, it won’t happen

 .

She is such a beauty, but I wonder

Will her makeup cover her bruises?

Will she still be able to smile so bright when her lip is busted open?

I have no ill will towards her, believe me.

I know she never would.

 .

She would call me a jealous bitch,

But someday, she’ll be here

Leaving a water ring on his coffee table

A silent reminder

 .

For all the tears that have fallen from my eyes

For all the tears that haven’t yet fallen from hers

 ..

I want to raise my voice and scream

“Run, run away, don’t look back”

But I couldn’t speak then, and I can’t speak now

All I can do is take another shot

Downed all the booze in sight

And I can still feel your hands on my neck

 .

In the silence of the night

I hear you shout every name in the book

Combining fists with words, your vocabulary is excellent

Mine is still so non existent

Upstairs I hear a faint cry, and I cover my ears to block out the guilt 

-I am so tired of getting up off the floor

#1286

homilius:

I thought that nature was enough
Till Human nature came
But that the other did absorb
As Parallax a Flame —

Of Human nature just aware
There added the Divine
Brief struggle for capacity
The power to contain

Is always as the contents
But give a Giant room
And you will lodge a Giant
And not a smaller man

(1873)

5 notes

jonthal:

To a Friend
1. Read entire text in order.2. Read only the second column.My first contrapuntal poem ever. The first column can’t survive without the other, but that feels right.7/23/2014

jonthal:

To a Friend

1. Read entire text in order.
2. Read only the second column.

My first contrapuntal poem ever. The first column can’t survive without the other, but that feels right.

7/23/2014

3 notes

He picked up a pebble
and threw it into the sea.

And another, and another.
He couldn’t stop.

He wasn’t trying to fill the sea.
He wasn’t trying to empty the beach.

He was just throwing…

87 notes

#eighteen

writingbyenna:

All that is good and all that is bad, withers away, so why be good?

2 notes