Saturday, July 21, 2018

|–.–|

Back in the ink of thoughts.
Still colored obsidian.
But now textured incomplete licorice.

This ink is missing its current.
It has consciousness,
But that of one in a coma.
Stalling.

It's a safety net.
It's a hazardous trap.
It's warm and cool.
It's burning and biting.

It wants you to sleep
All day
And think all night.
But
Never rest.

It steals the light from eyes
And
Warps space into slow motion.
It keeps you existing
While never living.

Waking up is half the battle.
Escaping is the second half.
Remembering to move forward the war.

This isn't your artist's ink.
This is depression.

And it's only
One of its forms.

Double-Edged Sword

Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter.
Plop-plop.
Drip-drip.

Sprinkle me with mist.
Douse me in coolness.
Refresh this dry terrain.

Thromp-thromp.
Wrsh-crsh.
FROOMP.

Wash over me.
Crash into me.
Decimate this landscape.

Rain is funny like that.

Friday, July 20, 2018

Masquerade

You say I have your unconditional support.
I believe you.
You say you don't care in the end.
I believe you.

You tell me to tone it down.
I refuse.
You tell me I should be more normal.
I refuse.

You can't handle me.
You can't handle the person I am.
You can handle the me I'm going to create.
You can't handle me.

So here's to my masquerade.
Here's to my facade for you.
Here's to knowing what you want.

You'll think you know me.
You'll think you understand my interests.
You'll think you get it.

There will be things you don't know I do.
There will be things you'll never understand.
There will be things you don't deserve to know.

And that's okay.

Sunday, July 15, 2018

One Coin Revised

Hatred.
The circumference.

The fuel.
Always aimed.

Anger.
Sadness.

Only the vehicles.
Only hatred's pawns.

All deceptive.
All cruel.

One coin.
Two sides.

Fuel to ignite them.

Saturday, July 14, 2018

One Coin

Anger.
Sadness.

A jagged sea of spines.
A molasses of quicksand.

Projection.
Burial.

Maker of homicides.
Maker of suicides.

Both dark.
Both unforgiving.
Both undiscriminating.

Two sides.
One coin.

Treading

Where am I?
I'm submerged in liquid, all but my head.
Is it blood?
No.
Too gruesome
Not dreary enough.

I think I am in ink.
Ink black like obsidian,
Yet fluffy like flour.
And it has a current,
A shifting consciousness.

This ink is my thoughts.

Thoughts which are incoherent.
Thoughts which are more accurately called feelings.
More precisely, one feeling.

One feeling which I've experienced once before;
Only once.
In reaction to separation from her.
A close friend during middle school.
A sad little dead end trail.

This time it is for them.
A happy little trail with no end in sight.

And the ink threatens to drown my mind.
It makes my skin prickle
And my stomach buzz from electricity.
And it threatens to slip through my eyes.

But still I like it.
Because I like the reason it exists.

Stranger Like Me

We are the same.
And
We are different.

You exist.
I exist.
You are 2D and 3D.
I am only 3D.

We both have a temper.
We both learned to deal.
We both utilize motion to control.

You can talk.
You can hear.
I can speak.
I can listen.

We are both dangerous.
We both strive to master our potential.
You have killed.
I believe I could kill.

We are both humans.
But 
You are a woman
And
I am a person...
Yet
We are both girls and both reject norms.

We both have a hard exterior.
And few truly know us.
But you can never think for yourself
While I will always grow my mind.

We are the same
And
We are different
Because
You are a character
And
I am real.

Monday, July 2, 2018

Premature

Pressure.
An itch.
A barrier.

You hold out.
You look through the jumble.
You cave.

Your ink is blotting.
Your paint is caking.
Your graphite is chipping.

You had to try.
You gave it your best.
You worked in the moment.

But the itch is only worse.
The pressure persists.
The barrier grows into a wall.

Manifest

It's a presence.
It's a feeling.
It's a phantom.

It turns to vapor.
It becomes tangible.
It remains uncatchable.

It sits as dead weight.
It bides time.
It idles in the corner.

You least expect it.
You are vulnerable.
You let your guard down.
Then -

It's a blazing fire.
It's a thousand needles.
It's a hurricane.

It is real.

Sunday, July 1, 2018

Dream A Dream

Look out into the horizon.
Let's pretend we can plan ahead.
Lie next to me in the future like we imagine.
Reality.

Look out into the horizon.
We're alone together, You and I.
Take my hand, but in your dreams.
Because we're apart, You and I.
Remember.

The days when we were together.
The pictures and the shenanigans.
Some day we'll be back together.
We'll make it through
The summer.

Keep finding me in my daydreams.
Keep following me into my sleep.
Keep falling for me as I fall for you.