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[butbabyits4am]

[butbabyits4am]

depression's child; silence

my hollow heart that bares the heaviest of fruit is back.

the sound of it weeping echoes through my rib cage like a ghost town.

the sound of death is back.

my hands break out in a cold sweat, not near enough to drown.

i'm scared. i'm scared and lonely. the silence is screaming at me,

and i can't raise my voice enough to tell it to stop.

it's tight fisted claws are begging to be let free.

it's begging to be let free from my cage, and it won't stop.

[butbabyits4am]

Keep reading

[butbabyits4am]

solo/until.

you don't realise how lonely you are,

until you're truly alone.

until your friends are "too busy"

to see you or pick up the phone.

until you're stood alone on the street,

realising no one knows you;

no one cares; and you stand.

your empty shoes

can't take the weight of all the

emotions you hold on to.

crowds of people in crowded places;

into the distance i stare.

as i begin to feel more alone by the

bodies in the fearful frightful air.

so much energy. so so empty.

you have no one.

standing solo in the street.

i have no one.

[butbabyits4am]

Your coldness makes me warm (by Milamai)

[butbabyits4am]

consent.

they thrust their hand

down your pants

like it's their right.

they push you

and push you

but don't wait

for an answer.

will they ever learn

that silence isn't

a yes.

[butbabyits4am]

Skiing into Paradise (by Jørn Allan Pedersen)

[butbabyits4am]

pain is the most lonely thing.

a hole. cored like an apple, you’ve taken my middle. the middle ground i stand on; the structure of my building. these 4 corners can’t hold up this heavy heart no more.

a hole. a deep, dark, bottomless pit filled with.. nothing. it’s cold and empty; don’t look for too long, you’ll burn.

a hole. you stroked my face and kissed me; distracting me from the cold barrel you’re pressing against my chest.

a hole. and with the reflex of a finger there was a hole.

a hole. where my loneliness lays.

a hole.

[butbabyits4am]

[butbabyits4am]

'Swap places for a day...' by Tracey

The other day I was strolling the streets of Manchester with my boyfriend and I couldn't help but notice how many unfortunate homeless people there were. It was cold and starting to rain. We went and bought hot food and drinks for as many as we could and then we came across Tracey. A tiny middle aged lady with the saddest of expressions but a beautiful and friendly smile. She was selling poems. She told us it was hard to write poems because it keeps raining and the pen smudges an the paper dampens. We asked if we could read her work and she handed the notebook to us. Her poems spoke so much truth it was as if her painful words were speaking to us, like we could hear her quiet, trembling voice tell us her story. We bought one each and I gave her all the change I had (I only had £4 on me but I wish I could have given her more). This is one of Tracey's poems. Enjoy :) and best wishes Tracey, I hope everything works out well for you and you live the happiest life you can in your unfortunate situation...

Sat beggin watching the world go by. People look through me and I dont know why. When I ask for change im always polite. Even though im dirty and I look a sight. A doorway is my bed my home is the street. The coo ov a bird is my only greet. Anyone could end up here it could be you. The poor the middle class the rich ones too. The people who stop are the same old faces. The ones that snub me should try swap places. It gets cold and wet and very scarey. At night you cant sleep youve got to be warey. So the next time you see me on the pavement. All's I ask for a little acknowledgement...

[butbabyits4am]

Observe

[butbabyits4am]

mirrors in the oceans.

and there's the glass. the glass you've learnt to hate, the glass you wish you loved. the ocean in a frame. you want to stare for days, yet a minute is quite unbearable.

smashing. a whirlpool of emotions. crashing. a tsunami of self consciousness. you stare deep into the bed where your shipwreck lay. skeletons with broken rib cages. the proof you ripped out my heart.

you stare deep into the churning waves; deep into the navy green that makes your stomach flip, and the lump in your throat hang heavier. pieces of glass in the water reflect. reflect everything you ever were and ever will be.

and to your delight, you see the sight you just might quite like. a dancing image of you and I. shimmering in the light caught reflections. glass glass glass. it'll cut you up if you're not careful.

[butbabyits4am]

Understand to Love

[butbabyits4am]

burn.

the petrol i lay in soaks into my pores. i’ll tear this place down, close the doors. shut them out, don’t hurt them. ‘cause baby you're about to cause mayhem.

mother always said “don’t play with matches". a match isn’t a match if its covered in patches. father always handed me a lighter. he said “chin up, i know you’re a fighter.”

strike, strike and strike again. flames explode, burn the curtain. can the people see the smoke? can they see me burn and choke?

turning heads and increasing paces. oh, you should have seen their faces. skin bubbles and boils. my scream makes no sound.

[butbabyits4am]

egon schiele’s two women embracing (1918)

[butbabyits4am]

ask me, it's always you.

when someone asks me to describe love, i instantly think about you; i think about how you make me feel, about how my heart beats faster when i fall into your eyes. your universe eyes. your eyes so deep, once mistaken for mariana trench. i think about all the skipped beats my heart has stumbled on every time i trip on your smile. i think about you and my lips curl, my cheeks blush and my heart opens and pleads.

but the answer to their question... well, it's indescribable. metaphors and similes  will never get close to the feeling, the true feeling of love. powerful, intense, heart-shattering love.

[butbabyits4am]

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