ahmedspeculates

Depression can be consumimg at times... negative thoughts invade the mind... the past snapping at your heels like a hungry beast... sleepless nights take a toll... you can be surrounded yet still feel alone... afraid to say how you feel not wanting to bring others down... smile at the world...yet inside your broken Copyright tinalouiseuk

The pond was small, the cattails fair; The algae drew a shining veil Across the waters waiting there For her to come while wandering And stare beyond the dreary pale Expanse of fog and starry glare Upon the pond within the dale Where she had ventured, pondering The many dreams she'd had of late Of sandy-shores and broken shells Upon a beach along a strait And of the ocean shimmering— She heard the wave's cathedral bells Come crashing with a dreadful weight 'Till she, afraid of violent swells, Could no more see the glimmering Of pearly foam, nor shining seas But only turbid tempest-doom; No more the fragrant, salt-laced

She is dream dust, too bitter or wise for her own good. A timeless dragon's soul somewhere inside a scaled shell, burning the silence in her bones alive, honeysuckle sweet. She collects fireflies only to set them free at 3am, crying to an uncaring moon. & she's begging for the stars to take her away, make this house a home rigged in the sky. To me, She is already naked fever swimming through the cosmos & I orbit her.

i need to stop looking for death in every body my fingers touch. i have been force fed old lovers, & slices of the moons lying dust for years- i am messy poems; i am fractured confessions. i am laughter & teeth. my jaws ache with the taste of wolves blood, & names. i am still hungry. give me your sugar; I will share my breath. remember, you are still made of starstuff, & i am no longer caged.

we are the best at exploiting weakness. the night you took a scalpel to my chest & fed my heart to the stars, you told me i could hate you if i needed to. with an exorcism i tried to cast you out of my body.   i was contorted limbs: the language of tongues trying to find myself in the cosmos of lit kerosene fingertips, & the kinds of habits that only choke me at 3am - when my eyes aren’t yet heavy enough for sleep; my mind tells me to do awful things. between fucking & i-don’t-know-who-i-am- anymore, you are the calories in the mathematical equation scribbled &     scratched out of me. i think of shy moons an

psychology defines schizophrenia as an impairing, delusional disorder borne in the person’s inexorable inability to tell right from wrong, hopeless fantasy from harsh reality, or even suspicion from acceptance but aspen is a lovely, flexible woman with names of imperial animal races that never belonged to them, with the countless colors of her eyes that she makes up with named numbers written in cursive sharpie on her palms she takes pills that seem to dampen & take away those charming things she always says to me; the voices don’t haunt or tease her, they’ve always respected the way she counted with willpower & the way sh

1: "Let the world know you as you are , not as you think you should be." - Fannie Brice 2: " First defense against evil ..... Open your damn eyes" - Reese, Forever Knights 3: " All we see or seem, Is but a dream within a  dream." Edgar Allan Poe 4: " How typical of humans ... Your eyes are clouded so you can not see ...... Even though the truth is always within you...." - Vampire Princess Miyu 5: " No one holds command over me. No man, No god, No prince What is a claim of age for ones who are imortal? What is a claim of power for ones who defy death? Call your damnable hunt. We shall see who I drag screaming to hell with me." - Gun

we do not belong in boxes and bags and books or words, and we do not sit contently in wordsworth and shakespeare and blake, burns, and brownings or in the cold stiff bones of raleigh's of long ago; no-- we infect, detect, and re-select a virus--a disease, a germ in every verse and line; the first signs of foolish waitings under bridges and scolding parents and melodrama and nothing to signify at all yet-- we are the blood of nations and the heart of men and the love of every rhetorist and sentimist to come; we dance through the ballrooms of the age and chat with higher minds we shake hands with heros and the homeless, dirty type