po3try-vibe

[po3try-vibe]

 There's a dull ache in my bones, constantly humming in my ears. My skin traps the soul within me and keeps my bones from breaking. Most times, I want to take my spine and break it over my knees, scream at it to shut up, tell my bones to fucking stop humming at me, it's not my fault you are trapped. Just pretend you don't see it here. Pretend the black seeping out from my eyes is normal, pretend the fires burning my lungs is for my benefit. Pretend this world doesn't keep me trapped, enslaved to the war that rages within. Would you say I'm worthy? I want to feel something other than my bones splintering inside me, I want to feel something other than the sting from breathing in the smoke from my burning lungs. It didn't use to be this way, until you said those words to me, left me like I was absolutely fucking nothing to you. This creation of life is damned, we are all fucking left to rot inside, fixing up pieces of ourselves we didn't break. How unfair. How un-fucking-fair. My soul screams at me to let her go, let her breathe, put out those fires, BUT I CAN'T. I try and try and try and always, without doubt, I am sucked back into the black, my soul continues to rot, rot, rot, and I am stuck, stuck, stuck, STUCK, breathing in those nasty fires, stuck listening to my bones groan and moan and splinter inside me. It is never-ending. It is torture. I am afraid one day, my soul will escape, and I will be nothing but a pile of smoldering black ink. It drips on me, drip, drip, drip, adding to the slime decaying off my ribs. I try to touch them, and it scares people away, or, I take them. My black ink consuming their souls too, trying to make mine stop being so restless. If I eat a butterfly, won't I become the butterfly?

Let us rearrange my insides, clean them, scrub them and replace them with new ones. You can have my soul since you already have my heart. Be warned, however, she's been hurt and likes to suck things into a black abyss, but have her, please, I can't bear long with her inside. She likes to kill, and I'm afraid, that slowly, she will kill me. From the inside out. 

[po3try-vibe]

'Gaps of Human Life'

There are these empty holes, cracking at the foundations inside me. Time hasn't been in my favor lately. Whispers of conversations float by me, all I hear are the gaps in their stories. I don't think they realize, that when they advert their eyes or take in a room when they walk in, fidgeting slightly as they try to figure out how to act, I can see the gaps in their souls. How their tired eyes try to meet mine when they rub their arms with those nicotine-stained fingers. Empty holes. They surround us, filling the air with the thought of being utterly hopeless. All I wanted was to fix those gaps. Fill them with flowers, so they don't feel the meaningless tangle at their throats. It seems we are all running around in circles, over and over and over. Sounds of talking swim by me, mouths moving but no shapes to the words they speak to me. It seems the silence is stronger, the biggest gap of them all, tearing them apart from the inside, pushing their feeble way out of the sound waves. Our hearts burn with life, but they never make it past the boundary of those tired eyes. We are all just tired souls, I am a tired soul. Moving through the motions, mindlessly living, just trying to get by without the weight of the water tugging me down. There has to be more, more than the meaningless that surrounds my ankles. My lungs are punctured, filling with the weight of the world. I find myself drinking in the world's sins. I don't want to lose control. I find it hard to swallow those truths, those truths weighing us all down. There's a sourness in the air, burning my eyes and singing my taste buds. How I miss tasting. We are all just rotting away, I think I am rotting away. Those lies that come from those devilish grins are the worst. How can I not trust you when you smile at me that way? Our hands are guilty, holding onto the blood of the past. My hands are too slippery, how am I ever supposed to fix these cracks inside me? There are gaps in human life, and I believe those might be the scariest gaps of them all. 

[po3try-vibe]

Hey! I also created a blog through google to post my poetry. Hope you check it out, it would mean a lot to me! I am planning on posting on both these platforms at least once a day :) timing for posting will probably be different times each day, but keep your eye out :). Thank you all for the love I have recieved on this platform!

[po3try-vibe]

[po3try-vibe]

"I'm sorry, love" My lungs used to be drowning, sumerged under the depths of black sticky tar, maggots chewing and spitting, rotting from the paper thin walls binding them together. I never knew clean air, only smog and black factory smoke. I never knew the feeling of breathing. Taking in full gulps of fresh, crisp fall air. There has always been weight, shackling me to the depths of my own hell. Slicing my ankles with every step I take. These walls are crumbling down on me, brick by brick, smashing onto my shoulders, chipping away at that porcelain coating that was supposed to protect me. These walls contine punching me, strangling me. It wasn't until I found you crying in the corner, and picked you up and held you close. Whispered to you, forgiving you, wiping our tears. It wasn't until I found you again, that the gates opened up, and the bricks turned to rose petals sprinkling down onto our heads, comforting us with warmth. It wasn't until I found you again, that I felt...free. The devil could only hold onto you for so long before super man would find you again, and release you from your purgatory. I am sorry love, for not finding you sooner. You help me breathe again, my lungs are healing, from the years of rot. But if you look closely, inside those tiny holes of rot, there is life. Beautiful, tiny flowers are blossoming. There is green, and a new beginning. The smell of rain. If you look closely, darling, you are creating life inside those tiny, rotted holes.

[po3try-vibe]

they say that when suns die, it causes mass destruction. ecosystems explode in the darkness, animals cry out as shards of forest cut through their skins, plants shrivel up, leaking all the water that has preserved them for years, they say you never see it coming, one day, you're just in the dark. I've been told that love is the same way. the very thing that keeps most alive, can destroy you in a matter of seconds, and yet, you never see it coming. they say each snowflake is different, unique. flurries surround you, burning the tips of your fingers with such coldness, you almost find comfort in the madness. corspes line the city streets, corpses that once felt love. hollow, shallow outlines of what used to be alive. you can see it in those eyes, those dark, empty eyes. they reach out to you, pleading, begging for the smallest touch of love. they fall away, flesh peeling off, bones trying to break out of the skins. they say love is a dangerous thing, like the sun's exploding. they say we all need love. but what is love, without the darkness? what are the trees, without chain saws tearing them apart? what are snowflakes, without their beauty? what are you, without the sun? sometimes I imagine a world with three suns, to keep that cold ache in your bones dim, to feed those animals with plenty of love. but I know, the world in which I survive in, only has one sun, and I think the sun is dying. what are we, without the bloody, murdering sun? what am i, without you?

[po3try-vibe]

"Blood doesn't mix with guilt"

Why are you trying to earn grace? Why are you crying? Please, don't fight these burning hands, holding onto you with the rage of forest fires. I'm drinking in the worlds sins, nothing could take me under like those beautiful eyes of yours. Burning like forest fires, destroying the ground underneath to feel whole. I'm sculpting you from my canvases, trying to make you perfect again. Give me your eyes, and I'll give you my bleeding heart. Why are you trying to earn grace? Is your fire dimming out? Give me your heart, so those forgotten will live again. I'll be damned, I'm drinking in the worlds sins. The sweetest cherry wines, and the bloodiest of fires can't save you. Ashamed, guilty, these hands are dirty. This earth is dying, should I run away to mars? Would the fires follow me? Planets destroyed from your burning hands,lifetimes of forest fires, slipping away from the rumbling of the earthquakes. Splitting, moving, destruction. The stars look at you with shame, how dare you burn those trees? They whisper to you, why are you trying to earn grace, with those bloody hands?