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Magical.I met him at the park.
He told me love was magic,
pulled a rabbit out of his hat and
winked when I laughed.
I never asked for his name, but
I would wander through the park every
weekend looking for him.
he was there again,
with that same grin,
and that same weathered top hat.
"My name is Alyssa."
"That's a lovely name."
He never told me his.
Sometimes I still wonder who he was,
if he could have been mine,
if we could have been each other's.
Sometimes I wonder if the magic scared me,
if it made me wonder what was real,
if it made me feel...temporary.
I bought a top hat for display in my living room.
People always ask about it.
They think it's rather peculiar of me to show off such a common thing.
They don't understand the message behind it.
They don't see the story.
If there is magic out there,
track it down,
become a part of it.
If there are rabbits in hats and never ending scarves and women who can be cut in half,
you can fall in love.
You can fall in love with a wink and tug
Amor Deliria Nervosa.You have infected me,
I've come down with the internal fever,
and my heart is on fire
I burn for you,
from the inside out,
it takes me over like a bonfire
that eventually breaks away from
the confines of its circle.
I am raging forest fire that water cannot put out,
I burn so deeply that liquids instantly turn to gas in my wake.
I am full of yearning and fire and love,
that haunting syllable that clouds the mind
like the smoke I put off as I flame.
Love that dazzles me daily like the dancing reds and
oranges that lick upward, reaching for the skies in an
attempt to pass on the sheer glow,
glowing cheeks, flushed to the brightest shade of pink,
I am smitten with the idea of keeping you as my own,
perserved forever in a state of unashamed purity.
that which men have fought for,
and killed for.
Love, causing fires across the globe, spreading out,
passing from one to another, like the common cold,
like a bacteria, like a disease, something needing a cure,
Dialouge.I don't know what it is,
or what to call it
If it even has a name,
or a face,
or if it breathes like I do
I'm not sure,
and being unsure,
it's scary, isn't it?
It's like a complete lack of knowledge
Being unsure means questioning things that
you can't find the answers for
It means enormous doubt that sits on your
heart and crushes it so slowly so that
you can feel ever twinge of pain
pulsing through your body
Emotionally, that is
And knowing the entire time that you will soon be dead
and not being able to stop it
Just...there, waiting to die
Waiting like some pathetic mortal for a savior
But no one will save you,
or maybe no one can
Maybe fate is fate and if the stars all align
then you have to do your part and let your soul
leave your body and just float away,
off to some magical place where there is no
more doubt and your thoughts will never harm you again
Or maybe I'm just naive
Maybe I'm becoming a believer
and that's dangerous, you know
Titanic-esqueDeath.I am taking on water,
sinking like the Titanic but without the grace.
I am dying slowly,
my insides filling up with the bittersweet taste of death
and a life that wasn't fully lived.
I am not dying young,
I'm dying dead,
cold and damp and dusty.
These words don't give me hope,
they give me rest.
Rest in Peace,
or Rest in Pieces,
I can hardly tell the difference.
Either way, I have found my purpose.
We live to die
instead of dying to live.
Everything is backwards,
a metaphoric mirror reflects my face
and I do not know me.
Who is this girl who stands before me?
She is warped and looks back at me in confusion.
I am sinking,
into the depths of my salty soul,
the seaweed taking me in,
"Hello friend, welcome to hell"
they say, with pasty smiles.
These are not my friends,
I do not know their names,
But I cannot fight for I have lost my will,
and so I give in, letting my body get lost inside the ocean forest,
feeling the last ounce of oxygen l
Ghost-Like Tendencies.The ghosts in my closet left whispers in my bed.
They are conspiring against me,
they want my life.
I am living like a frightened soul
afraid to be caught on film.
The ghosts in my closet are halfway to hell,
but hell is a teenage girl,
they are so close to me.
I feel their empty breaths on my cold skin.
They are in my dreams,
they turn them to nightmares,
in which I never wake.
The ghosts in my closet are suffocating me.
I am the ghosts in my closet.
I have become a ghost.
Splitting Estrogen.Sweaty palms meet sweaty cheeks.
I am drenched from the inside.
I am flooded outside of myself.
I am two faces and four lungs
and I do not understand how to
reconnect to my one dying heart.
Do not touch me,
I am dirty,
and so is she.
We are not worth your effort
Keep your moans to yourself.
I can't find my mind to tell it to care.
Drunken Dates.I spent my evenings flooded to the teeth,
the alcohol sat next to me
and mocked the words I speak.
I threw away my appetite and settled for a drink,
too much inhibition,
tossed my lonely down the sink.
Mother, Mother, We Are One.A hasty glance in the wrong direction was all I had to warn me.
It hit me like a frieght train, scattering me across the tracks in undefined pieces with rough edges.
My heart collapsed and ate itself like a miniature black hole.
My personal black hole.
I have been silent far too long.
So I screamed.
I screamed to ensure my own existence.
I screamed to remember the sky and the ground and the air in between.
I screamed until my lungs gave out and evaporated into miniscule particles that floated away like summertime wishes on weeds.
And then my silent throat gave way to gasps and coughs and butterflies that sprang from my guts like dillusions from the heat.
I heard a sweet wind calling me down into the earth,
to nestle myself in the warm soil and let the sun regenerate my soul.
And so down I laid,
and roots burst forth to give life and say hello to the day
and I died there,
so peacefully I hardly noticed.
And from my bone and blood and flesh a single flower grew.
One lonesome forget-me-no
Dying In You.Drug me and make me numb
Such extreme moods
You've whiplashed me with those eyes
That heart is puttering to a young grave,
what a pretty headstone for my one and only babe
Don't kiss me,
I don't want that poison to drip into my throat and burn through my chest
That stare matched with that grasp is a petty deathcab, don't buckle me in, I'm crashing again
Sidelines are done
Asphalt is cracking
and I'm falling apart
Headlights and nighttime
and moons with no stars
Twisting and turning and flipping and scars
Road side and taillights and ditches and mud
Glass is smashed and your reflection is gone
Closed eyes and balled fists and bloody teeth
I don't believe it!
No, I don't believe!
Organs are dust and blood is a waste
Coughing and burning, a deathlike taste
Sinking and flying and stretching the sky
Blackness and white light and eyes that don't cry
Needing and wanting and breaking my heart
Hugs that cut me and tear me like art
Don't kiss me,
Someone asked me what is love
is it good, is it bad
is it awesome, is it terrible
I honestly didnt know how to answer them.
I finally desided love is the most complicated of all emotions
Love is kind
love is harsh
love is wonderful
love is terrible
love is a cure
love is a sickness
love is LOVE
love is hate
love is meaningful
love is pointless
love shows the best in people
love shows the worse in people
love makes us speak truth
love makes us lie
love understands everything
love confuses everyone
love builds your life
love tears your heart down
love makes you smile
love makes you cry
love makes us cuddle
love makes us hit
love makes the world go round
love makes the world go crashing down
love makes things simple
love makes things impossible
love is always worth it
love is never worth it
love makes us smarter
love makes us stupid
love is enlightening!
love is BLIND
make love not war
make war out of love
love is peaceful
love creates fights
love is sooth
SuicideSuicide... they call it sin
They say it is a death in which no-one wins...
They encourage you not to do it, they say it is wrong...
But who is there to encourage you when you can't be strong.
You feel like you have no-one, not even a friend.
No shoulder to cry on, just one last letter to send.
tragedies - collab.you deserve all the cobweb dreams,
fairytale hopes, and explosive love
in the world, but i know that i
will never be the one
to give them to you.
you need notes that end with
'ps - you're brighter than
twenty-seven silver stars'.
i can't bring myself
to write them, though.
it's not like you'd read them,
i cut out paper hearts and
dreams and gave them to you, but
you only ripped them up and said
'these aren't good enough.'
when i painted you a picture
of golden skies and sunshine smiles,
you handed it back and told me
'next time, paint realistically.'
so i wrote you a story
filled of starless nights and
hopeless dreams. you said 'no,
i don't need this. you're
tragedy enough for me.'
by the time i was humming you
melancholy lullabies through the receiver,
you had already surrendered
to the sweet grasps of sleep.
'i'd rather nightmares than you,'
you said, hanging up the phone.
i kept singing anyway, hoping
that you would stop running
long enough for me to catch up.
but i forgot -
the speed addictthe speed addict knows if he stops moving,
he will die. so when inertia takes hold
his heart falters and his head slams against
a future, lit by the dashboard. he hears
his veins stuttering like gears grinding out
a staccato refrain, while the wheel spins and
goes numb. as his breath twists away from his grip,
rasps a hol
heart song.this is the song
to your heart.
why are you locked inside
a bathroom stall? no one
to hold you, tell you sweet
lies and say you are
beautiful, say you are
perfect? it's not the end of
the world, not yet. if it was,
wouldn't there be
your heart is not yet
dead; please do not
say it is. if it was dead,
it wouldn't hurt this
your heart is only sleeping.
when the only melody in your head
is a break up song, and the only thing
your heart seems capable of doing
is twisting itself into knots, and the only
thing you want to do is hide and escape
we are talking about finding
eternity in the things people
throw away. we are talking about
listening to the moments of silence
in between heart beats. we are talking
about distances shortening and
people realizing they can
we are talking about
one of the greatest tragedies
in life is that
DementiaThe old man sits with stooped back.
The room is cold, just like his hands.
Thoughts have wandered like small children.
He wonders if he will see home again.
Thoughts have wandered home again,
with stooped backs and cold hands.
The room sits with the old man.
Like small children, he wonders if he will see cold.
Back stooped with thoughts, he wanders.
Like a child the small room sits, wondering.
Home again is cold.
The old man will see with his hands.
Thoughts have wandered with stooped backs.
The cold hands sit with the old man.
He wonders if he will see like small children.
The room is home again.
This PainTears roll down my face,
As I cut myself,
To release the pain.
It hurts so much,
But feels so good.
The pain is draining from me,
In drops of blood.
As I watch my pain leave from me,
"How can this be,
That I have so much pain
When I'm only merely 16?".
Then I remember the past that I've had,
Memories of yelling,
all the awful scars.
I've cried too much,
I've hated so many,
That I don't think people will ever get me.
I come back from my world of thoughts
And realize that I've bled too much,
It's all over the counter,
It's becoming messy,
But I don't care.
I just want this pain out of me.
I'm starting to think that I can't go on,
That maybe I should cut deeper
Till there is no more pain or blood,
But then I remember,
That I may have a future.
I'll just have to wait out this pain
And let the blood dry up.
you can't feel through fabrictonight the rain becomes the earth
falling from hidden spaces in the sky and swollen clouds
i hear it make mud of dirt, and lovers of friends
and ask, quiet, where are you going but down?
im not all there in the head
youre not all there in the head, my mother says
im not all there in the head i repeat
sometimes im there in my toes and fingers and heart as well
and now - in this downpour moment- i lie on the street
so warm that i think well thats where loves gotten to
but where is your shirt n? oh someplace else
and is that a light flickering in the house across the road? hide!
i rush in soaken with rain i watched fall (like stars)
am i poetic enough yet, yet?
leaving rain-prints on the carpet but mother wont mind
mind you she never minds anything if its mine
but then it stops a quick shut-eye stop
(i wonder) is it dew now that it sits like jewels upon the grass?
the wind is lovely in my ear, voice like rushing water
Depressing PoemsSorry --
What if she died?
And at the funeral her parents told you,
"You could have saved her from herself."
How would that make you feel?
And that night you went home
Sat in your room alone
And killed yourself
Just to be with her again and tell her
Why do people try to help me?
Do they care?
I guess they do
But all I do is hurt them
She keeps trying to help me
But all I do is push her away
She's my best friend
Why can't I just let her help?
What if I died right now?
How would you fell?
Sad, depressed, torn apart?
Or would you feel nothing,
But an empty place that can never be filled again?
Cinematic Cliffhanger.Shut your mouth and drop the curtain
the spotlight left your side
because the crowd's had enough of you
You're blinded by your fall from fame
and backstage has never felt like this
Does the silence burn your eardrums?
There will be no cheers for you.
I told you you were just a fad to them,
I told you.
Leaving Southampton She was in the kitchen when he stumbled in noisily, tripping as he went past the shelves and catching the edge of the table to keep himself from falling.
Pretending not to hear the stream of curses that followed, she kept her eyes fixed on the dishes, letting her hand trail in the soapy water. There was a loud scraping of wood against grimy concrete as he drew a chair and collapsed into it. At this she looked up, and after a moment's hesitation, she said, unnecessarily, "You've been drinking."
He clutched his head and said nothing. He hadn't shaved in weeks and stank of sweat and alcohol; he looked much older than his eighteen years.
They sat in silence for a while. Then he announced, loudly, "Fuck."
She didn't bother to tell him off. She just waited. And jumped when he suddenly brought his fist down, hard, onto the table.
"Our lives here are s
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