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StrengthClimbing higher, just to fall
Straight from his hand, I hear the call.
Knowing that I'm far from home
Still with no one, left to roam.
I heed the warnings and turn around,
Just to be pushed to the ground.
Crying, bleeding, sobbing, falling
I start again, on my knees crawling.
Never once looking up
Never expecting a full cup.
But even in the midst of rain
The world was left to me for my gain.
The same hand from which I fell
Brushed off the dirt on me
And brought me to my feet again
And caused all the clouds to spin.
My pain was gone and I was free
Thankful that my soul wouldn't bleed
I'm Ok HereDon't worry about me. I'll be just fine. I'm ok here. I've created a world where no one will hurt me and where all my dreams come true. I've seen my future, or what I think my future should be, and I just want to live in my fantasy world. Everyone likes me here. I'm a size 0 and drop dead gorgeous. Fights are only a temporary disadvantage and broken hearts are fixed by a kiss from the cute hero. It's a place where Cinderella always gets Prince Charming and Ariel doesn't have to give up her voice for love. It's a world where everyone knows my name, says it right, and desired to be with me. It's a world that totally and completely revolves around me.
Yes, I'm selfish, but I love it here...
If you loved me, you'd come find me and make my world...
Lost1:I'm starting a new path
Turning over a new leaf
I'm tired of being
Alone and beneath
I need your grace
To wash this away
This feeling of rejection
2:I'm standing closer
Closer to the edge
I feel his hand
Guiding me down
Lord take me away
Away from deception
C:So here I am
Lost on this road again
I wondered here
Outside of your direction
I'm looking up
Your touch to guide me
3:I got lost on this road
This road of temptation
Everywhere I turn
Is another scar
The darkness takes
All my hope away
I need your light
4:You take me in
Close to your chest
You hold me tight
While I try to turn away
I need to know
That you'll never leave me
BeautifulTrying to look past my reflection in the mirror
Disgusted at what i see
But what you see is beautiful
My face scared by the sin
My heart broken by the choices I've made
But what you see is beautiful
I'm undergoing a transformation
A physical reconstruction
Finding joy through the pain and love through the hate
I'm not broken or ugly
Because to you I'm beautiful
There's no one who can compare to the glory of you
No one who's word thought or deed matters but yours
And when you say I'm beautiful it must be true
The standard has changed
The mold has broken
Because you think I'm beautiful
They Still FallI'm trying to be strong,
But the tears,
They still fall.
Can you please hold me again?
The phone stays silent
The heart still beats
But the tears,
They still fall.
Can you please love me again?
I look past the pain
And towards the future
But the tears,
They still fall.
When will you call?
Music is my only ally,
It speaks to my pain.
But the tears,
They still fall.
Can you kiss me again?
I wish I was stronger
I wish I could call,
But your eyes they haunt,
My very being.
My sleep is interrupted by what might have been,
My breathing stops,
The pain is so hard to handle.
Do you remember that night?
The night you kissed me.
The night you made me feel like I was worth your love.
But that's all changed...
I wasn't worth fighting for.
One MonthI guess I kept thinking,
That you would wise up,
And see me as a fraud.
I was hoping it wouldn't hurt,
Trying to push away,
But your eyes made me stay.
Afraid that you will notice,
They way my breath stops in my chest,
The way my heart just keeps on beating,
Without giving me any rest.
I waited and waited
And tried to help the sting,
But here we are,
A months gone by
And you're still here.
I don't want to get my hopes up,
I feel like this is it.
I've finally found someone,
That I can truly live with.
Embraced by the Heavenly LightThoughts run rampant in my mind,
Consuming all hope, all love, all my might.
Tossing and turning,
I find myself looking for that place.
A place to call my own,
Where the thoughts are finally silent.
The light is fading,
The darkness is taking over,
And I welcome it with open arms.
My migraines intensify,
My fears are bigger, better, stronger.
What has my life become?
Finding the issues of certainty popping up,
Not knowing what is left of my life.
The absence of color,
The blackness of my soul...
All because my brain is working overtime...
I long for a metallic silencer,
That bullet that will be my best friend,
This world can and will be better when I'm gone.
He won't have to worry about my insecurities any longer.
The little voices in my head,
The ones telling me I'm a failure,
They will finally end.
With a bang,
My world will come tumbling down
And I can be embraced by the heavenly lights.
FadedThe glitter and shine
The love and desire,
Its all faded.
Faded into the darkness of the loneliness I once so hoped to be saved from.
The cute stares
The fun smiles,
Its all faded.
Faded into the discouragement of being let down again.
Glimmers of hope
Butterflies still fly
But its fading.
Fading from my lack of faith in the human race.
Fading from my ideas that Hollywood stuffs down my throat.
Fading from my self esteem that was once so strong.
Fading from the desire for a fullfilling life.
InsecureI'm sure what you say is true,
I'm sure what I hear is false,
But you still like me.
What I see in the mirror,
What you see in me,
Are completely different.
I'm sorry for my fear,
But excuse me if I'm wrong,
What could you possibly see?
I'm not like her,
She likes you
But you chose me.
Trying not to push you away,
Astonished at why you stay,
Can I cling to you now?
Its just me being insecure,
But my fears are heavy,
Don't pull away.
I can lie
And I can pretend
That this is ok.
I can't lose you
I want the best for you.
My insecurities are baring down,
But I don't want it to end.
eight ways you've made me small1. I wish
this was for you.
2. my journal pages - the
brown one with all our monologues -
were jarred with hollow vows of
last poems of
letting you slip into a coma
of bad memories, watching you
fall to your death off
a cascading cliff of disease
and dis ease.
it was never
easy for me
3. there's a reason I ask
whether you're grey
(dark white, elusively black, in between)
or blue (behind the clouds, under wave-foam,
whateverthefuck runs through the back of my
palms); I'd rather have
than the arms
that once held you half-
heartedly. you had always been
my harmony and I
would have killed
to have been yours.
4. it could never have been just me, the way
it could never have been just
5. disasters are not beautiful,
but how is it that you
managed to make my inner linings
converge into bows
and explode into wings the very
night you decided to rebuild your walls
to a lower height?
6. I wish
diaryi thinned recall,
strangled memory until she screamed black
or blue, strung her source of voice along
the willowed incline of vein to wrist and down
let the curl thirstily imply
just how cut it is to pain in numbers:
one scar for extravagant wine dates, three
for the number of times we fucked crying,
eight for forgotten promises of ever after
i heard a sordid song in your tallied matchstick
bones, victorian in beauty & proper repression
of the bloody details like a bruise we push beneath
our hollow skin with dirty fingernails
see, the past is not a headless infant with knives for
playful fingers, though it is not to say
that cribs or birdcages hold anything more than
what we leave them to engulf
i swallowed you whole, ocean— basked by the enchantments
of soft-spoken life, bathed by neurotic erosion.
they taught me that the cleansing of your body now
fades the transient you of yesteryear, speak in familiar tongue:
bathroom stall mirages of rounds, clocks, convey
Song of First SnowfallI fell in love
with the boy at the bus stop this morning
who dropped his gloves
on the sidewalk
to freeze his fists into side-of-the-road snow
and throw snowballs into the wind
just to watch them float away
as if he wants to contribute to the storm.
To be a part of it all.
I fell in love with him,
and I don’t know why.
All I know
is that the air is filled with music
and that this boy is the bassline.
And then he’s saying hello.
I think it must be to me;
no one else is around
but for the street and the snow and the sky.
But he’s yelling at the top of his lungs,
at the street the snow the sky
and I know that to him,
I’m not even there.
It’s to be a part of it all:
the whispering of wind,
the crunching of footsteps
and grumbling of cars.
It’s to be standing in the eye of the storm
to be clinging to its teeth and to say,
I am here.
He looks at me,
and this time I know it’s to me that he says,
ExpirationWith you I always feel like I’m
to break in the wrong size of shoes.
Sometimes I sit and stew
over how you’re seventeen and
you think I’m a princess
the trapped-in-a-tower kind
and how you wear suits and talk about politics
and think you know the world.
My throat interrupts with an affronted gurgling sound
sometimes when I think about you,
you deal out advice where it just isn’t called for
you quote science-fiction to justify war
and you’re seventeen years old and you think I’m a princess
and you just have no blooming idea.
Darling, one of these days I will tell you my mind
But until then we’ll never fit
I’m afraid –
that even after that day
you’ll still be trimmed hedges and
Whenever I hurt myselfI have a feeling
Someone is watching
So I look around
But there's no one to be found
Makers Of The Cage. Holders Of The Key.Our eyes are the closest thing we have to freedom.
We see endless blue sky, and the stars beyond.
We see the beauty of the world.
We see our reflection in the mirror;
the reality, and the fantasy.
Our eyes see far and great.
But the rest of us cannot follow.
Our hands probe the steel bars around us.
Fumbling in the dark.
Cut by the sharp edges.
The bleeding never stops.
Our feet shuffle around.
Trying to go places.
But we walk in circles.
Our emotions go from red to blue;
orange to green;
yellow to purple,
mixing in a haze.
Our mind goes to dark places,
and only wanders deeper.
Oblivious to the place right next door.
It knows the freedom,
it knows the pit.
There are endless paths to take.
There's a cage we need to break.
There is a key ourselves create.
In our hands, it's never too late.
a cherry pit dog heart.she holds a cherry pit dog heart in her hand, arrhythmic
beats like children playing pots and pans in kitchens
mother builds from scratch, black bean soup prepared
for dinner by a creased artist; wisps of white
upon a grandfather's head remind his daughter's child
of winter as he talks of horses in cuba who scratch
their backs on wooden posts; the first time she eats
ox tail is at an uncle's funeral, sitting in the basement,
surrounded by her surname, wondering why everyone
seems so happy; her grandmother keeps having
that dream where she's cooking and pours hot oil
on the animal in the kitchen, singeing his skin—
she cries out at midnight, sobbing for her daughter;
black eyes watch as her child keeps growing,
inspecting her process for future improvements,
while she takes pride in getting her sleeve caught
on twigs as she runs through the forest; motherhood
enters her every so often, at times uninvited, but
never for her prince in white, the bundle curled up
on her bed, floating
on bradbury and table dancingYou are not a wordsmith
whatever you might like to think. ('Smith'
indicates precision and coldness and fire:
words are softer than that unless you mold them strong.)
It's a difficult road to follow, and not many
make it past the fork. Choose a path,
Janus says, whirligig keys spinning on his shoulders:
I am a wordworker, with my tools too crude, forming
rough-edged carvings painted with pretty imagery.
Notebooks scattered across the landscape
of a child's room, to be stumbled across,
read, red-penned, in the thick and choking breath of night.
When the bough breaks
a hanged man laughs. He carries typewriters
in his pockets, and cigarettes in the soles of his shoes.
I will never be a word mistress,
whoring myself to the speech of people I do not know and will never know me.
The oven is set to Fahrenheit 452, but the words were already aflame
before they ever took shape under your tongue.
You love everything they've ever written, and carry
unabashed loathing for every syllabl
Alone AgainI watch what I say, I pretend I don't see, I hold on to the pain you give me. I'm kind and I'm loving, but I'm missing it, you see, I'm alone again.
The empty relationships, the convenient calls, my phone stays silent in the middle of it all. Is it me or is it fate, that I stand here and wait, not only for a man, but for a friend.
I'm falling to my knees, trying to stand, praying to God this pain will end. Not really sure, why I choose to stay, but I keep coming back to play. They've hurt me and made me bleed, and my soul is tired of being beat, I just wish someone would understand this fanatasy world has come to an end, and I'm alone again.
I tried to find completness in this world but the failings of man has reveled its self again. Trying to fit a mold that none can reach, and yet, trying to be who HE wants me to be. I hold on to the fact, that God will always love me back, but here's
Twenty-three years before the crippling of Crown Prince James III
He was fourteen and she was probably aged about the same, give or take a few years. It had been an hour since he'd met her.
He hated her already.
She scowled behind him and likely shared the sentiment as they scampered up the hillside in a desperate attempt to escape the roaring mob that seemed to be growing perpetually larger and coming ever-closer. Gabriel would have liked to say that it was all her fault he was in this situation, though it was his careless nicking ofwhat was it? A chicken that started the first old woman running, but how was he supposed to know that she'd stumble and fall and everyone else would think he'd assaulted her?
He hadn't. He'd taken the chicken, snapped its neck and run, because he hadn't eaten meat in weeks and he was starting to feel the affects on his already weak limbs.
This is what happens, he thought. This is what happens when you live like th
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More