[x]

Her eyes scream fill in the _____.They said
she has starving
little poet fingers,

& lungs-

filled with
the heroic hearts
of nameless protagonists.

But, she cries

tears of Saturn
on too-little-sleep nights,
& coffee ringed mornings.

They call her vanilla.

Innocence,
much too ripe to fall
with freckles on her
wander(lust)
shoulder-blades
singing connect-the-dot

blues.

UntitledThere was something of the night, she would say, which had always frightened her.
It wasn't the moonless shadows or the strange prolixity of sounds, but the way the skyline would shatter just beyond the city's crest, as if proving to her childish mind that nothing is truly limitless. Not even the sky.

Brain StormMy brain sloshes ‘round within my skull
The waves pounding against my temples
Endless chatter screeches like seagulls
My thoughts erupt the cortex as lava
Travelling through my body to Vena Cava
Poisoning my violent beating heart
Rattling the physical and spiritual apart
Where the dust lies one’s mind a chemical eruption
Silence goes unnoticed, in the brain full of disruption
Feelings like tornados uprooting reasoning
Destruction, anger deepening
Where there is silence surfacing the outer skin
There is insanity devising its design for turmoil within
Flaying neurons and catastrophic brain signaling
From subconscious preconditioni

ImpactAs the gravcar hurtled through the streets of the Andromeda City, Ral struggled to keep his grip on the seat—a task made much more difficult by the fact that the vehicle was turning so sharply that it was riding sideways along the wall. Of course, as tall and cluttered as the city was with bridges and stairways, it was a wonder people still knew what a street technically was. The normally vivid lights that covered practically every facet of the city passed him by so quickly that they blended into what he could only describe as a vomit-like blur of color. But he merely grinned, perhaps a side effect of the adrenaline that pumped through his ve

Daddy...?Ambulance for you
Racing by the house
Mom just called
It races for you

Dad, don't leave me
Dad, please come back

The doctors told
your brains bleed
inside your head
your veins burst.

Dad, don't leave me
Dad, please come back

Daddy...?

The Past is Always Written Upon Your Skin (poem)My skin will never be
Smooth
Or clear
Or soft

I am tattooed with these scars
That will never disappear
They will certainly fade
Like words on paper

But they will always be
A constant reminder
Of what I have become

They call me a cutter
They say it's only for attention

But in my case
It's to feel
To bleed
To know
That there's still a soul
In this shell of mine

reservethe walls gasp as
recognition-stained hallucinations
take the covers and defile
the windows with their
presence. the doors are stripped
free, because they never felt open.
tonight, i am the wilted flower's
last cry.

(your name burns my skin) we are only
the weakest we have ever been and
i am an ugly duckling of paper
and poignant prayers.

i'm tied to a summer's day
almost real enough to lose myself in, of
white minds and placid trees, swaying
as though leaves would never fall;
this was months before i changed and
before my skin flaked and i was left
a metallic form of undone want-
before you cringed from the hiss
o

amygdala.n.
center for convergence
of sensory data;
major organizer of
emotional information.

I find that this word
is nearly always
on my lips-
nearly as often as your smile is.

I would like to know
just how it works, and why
it seems so relevant to me,
and exactly what you are
doing to me
that makes it go
so deliciously
h a y w i r e .

We Will LiveI don’t remember when I forgot
what it felt like to be happy,
what it felt like to love
and to know that I was loved.

My head told me I was alright
but my eyes told me to cry
and my heart told me
I am breaking
under the crushing weight
of the sertraline,
fluoxetine
risperidone
the seroquel
until my head couldn’t speak
and my heart couldn’t love
and my eyes couldn’t see

I was blind as the darkness came over me
and I was helpless
alone
my head

faulty molds beget faulty girlsi've been crafted from too many
once-upon-a-times,
all frightened and flighty,
within a mold of nursery rhymes.

a beggar with a cup -
i plead for the right lines
to be tossed inside this bottomless
sea of lightless i'll-be-fines.

and with sweet pencil pricks,
he punctures soggy paper;
and with disgusting flicks,
my tongue has become an enabler.

i spill black ink from my stomach
and choke down all his light,
vomiting on all these fireflies,
pinning them down to a canvas of trite.

and as i hand him, gracefully,
this gift made just for him -
he smiles and thanks me graciously
for bestowing the stars and all of my sin.

A Love Never GainedFebruary stalls in time

Snow is falling in tune with my heart
The way he saw her tore me apart

I must have lost my eyes,
Because I could not be nearly so blind otherwise.

How could I not see something so clearly displayed before me?

I ignored your questions
With implied meanings

I thought that I was stronger,

But I wouldn't take this before a thousand beatings.

Poems Speak My ThoughtsI've been called pretty,
but they haven't been for me.
I've been called beautiful,
but sadly it wasn't by you.

Some days I feel,
you are the only one that cares.
Other times I'm a mess,
cause I think you could worry less.

Sometimes I wait to text you,
just to see if you miss talking.
Yet I can't wait that long.

I really like you,
and always have.
Yet when I had a chance,
I ran off with someone that treated me bad.

Probably after you read this,
you'll probably think I'm a crazy fool.
Then I may just have to get over you,
even if it's something I don't want to do.

I just don't want to lose a friend in the end.

Mabonthere are dead leaves
sprouting from her amber spine,
reaching with child-fingers
to devour the sun.

her skin is freezing,
seeping winter through
november pores.

seeking warmth,
the whiskey tongues
of godless boys
wish to decipher
the atlas of her thighs.

counting the sleepy fireflies
alight in her lungs- there is
wanderlust churning & warming
her frostbitten heartstrings.

swinging pendulum hips,

"I am the tease of autumn flames.
I breathe in mint sunsets,
& gasoline dreams."

Happiness is a BoyI imagined Happiness as a boy, clad in a black leather jacket.

He would sneak in through my bedroom window when I least expected it.
Beckoning me to join him in his small, happy parade, and no one would bother.
I would let down my hair and dance like a maniac like no one would mind.
The blood would come rushing and come tickling; the heart go swelling and go combusting.

And then, unnoticed, he would slip away through that same window he came in.

As fleeting as seconds,
as sudden as death.

And I would be sitting there on my chair, sober, waiting for his return.

Moonlight PerfectionI'm writing this by moonlight - the eerie glow of a full moon, to be exact. I'm wondering if you remember how we marvelled at a full moon, promising to use it as a medium in which to speak to each other, even while separated by thousands of thousands of miles. Of course we wouldn't hear each other, we figured, but we'd always know. That's how love works.

I'm not sure if you've blocked out the memory or not. I am sure that you know which memory I speak of - we have many, but there's nothing quite as special as dancing at midnight at the foot of a swan-flocked pond, despite the absence of music. The swans watched us, and I swear that by the ti

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wishes and amusement parks.Let's ride on Ferris wheels,
and wish away past memories.
You can pretend to look me in the eye;
I'll pretend there is something left to look into.
We'll eat cotton candy if you want,
and the world will never have to know
you stopped smiling a long time ago.

And all of our friends will come
to tell us they've missed us
but they'll never bother
to come see us again afterwards.
And someone will wave hello,
but it will remind you of
ocean waves drowning strangers
And you won't know if
that makes you happy or sad,

But the stars will shine brightly,
and you'll be the prettiest
lonely person I have ever seen.
And as we replac

journal of the apathetic.one.

We're the outsiders of our own lives.

two.

I like to pretend that this is all somebody else's dream,
and he will wake up in the morning, and I will never have existed.

three.

A friend sent me a message saying her brother died.
I wanted to tell her that things would get better with time,
but I couldn't bring myself to risk lying to her,
so I corrected her grammar instead.

four.

If I had a heart,
what would really destroy it
is the way everybody always seems to be lying.

It's the understatements and the intentional misleading wordplays.
It's the "hello" when you mean to say "I've missed you to death."
It's fake smiles

haemorrhage.Apocalyptic heartbreaks took you away from me, but I'm tired of writing about that.
And I'm tired of writing all these meaningless words to nonexistent people, tired of using the word tired to describe how I feel, tired of pretending to care about empty promises of better days.

Fuck it.

I'm tired of everything,
so tonight, I'm going to make believe.

I'm going to make believe that I'm not awake in the middle of the night again. I don't spend endless hours trying to drown myself in vodka and self-pity. The word alone wasn't meant for losers like me, and this isn't destroying me. I never fell in love with you, and I swear I'm

100 dollars.a)
You're a sell out, but you didn't even sell for much
so I guess that's what you're worth – the price of betrayal and fake friendships.
And I guess that's what I'm worth too because I'm one of those things you abandoned.

b)
You're so vain, you probably don't even think this is about you
because in your head, everybody loves you.
Well, you traded my place in your mind for a brand new narcissistic attitude, so I don't really care about what's in your head anymore. And if you're the pianist, then I wouldn't want to be the broken piano you soil with your hypocrite hands. And if you want me to treat you like a God, I'll have you kn

about you.One.
You're made of crying apologies, hailstorm nightmares,
and words that make me regret everything.

And you may have 206 bones in your body, but I have 207 reasons why you don't deserve any of them.

Two.
You once said that I could count on you,
but mathematically speaking, your lies never added up.
And if I had a dollar for every time you were there for me, I wouldn't even have a dollar.

Three.
Things that remind me of you: everything.
Things that I hate because they remind me of you: everything.

And I'm tired of hating everything.

tonight.Tonight, you're the antagonist with the killer smile, and I'm the bad ending everybody hoped wouldn't happen.

Tonight, everything just isn't enough.

Tonight, the protagonist didn't even bother to show up. Maybe, he didn't even exist at all. Maybe, it's for the best.

Tonight, the air is toxic, and love's just a way to make more money
or maybe it's a way to make you cry.

Tonight, metaphors are dead ends, and maybe we're dead too.

Tonight, everyone loses.

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The Panic Attack.

by ~alkalineuh, Nov 24, 2012, 6:55:56 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

There is a broken
cuckoo clock in your throat,
a mechanical stranger
brewing ale in your windpipe,

and this what it feels like
to drown in your own thoughts,
gasping, gasping, gasp -

Your heart is a poorly designed
automaton attacking itself
hoping it will be reborn as a
piano instead of a failing organ,

and this is what it feels like
to drown in your own thoughts,
gasping, gasping, gasp-

Your brain is the lacuna
between who you are and
who you want to be, an
oil leak that only you can see,

and this is what it feels like
to drown in your own thoughts,
gasping, gasping, gasp-

The Panic Attack.by ~alkalineuh

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

I've been having problems with panic attacks ever since I'm no longer on medication. It's gotten a lot better over time, but it's still problematic.

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

wow 1 1

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~Rocketgirl97 Dec 11, 2012 Hobbyist Digital Artist

Beautiful poem.
(for future references the heart is actually a muscle) Great job

~alkalineuh Dec 11, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Yes! The heart is a muscle. Muscles are organs. The heart is an organ. The heart is awesome.

Ps. Thank you!

~wordsofdeath Nov 25, 2012 General Artist

Very good metaphors/analagies. That's what really got me with this poem.

~TheRuinsOfMan Nov 25, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Very accurate description

~MiniMonster1503 Nov 25, 2012 Student

I recently had a panic attack. I was hyperventilating and almost passed out. I have had more and more panic attacks and this is exactly how it feels.

~SakuraBleached19 Nov 24, 2012

I agree.. panic attacks hurt, not only yourself, but others around you...

(I get them too....)

~breezypixy Nov 24, 2012

You've described it perfectly, especially with the first two lines. Amazing.

~BEK1995 Nov 24, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Best wishes!!! I hope you get better soon, although I know that those are just empty words and don't really help. Makes me wonder how I'm going to fare when I come off of it someday...

~tamarazeegers Nov 24, 2012

I hear ya!

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