Filthy
A Tapestry of You A Love Poem. Content Warning.
A Tapestry of You: A Love Poem Before you, my reality was a material, huge and pale, Brushed with the grays of normal, a dreary story. The sun rose and set, an anticipated dance, Making no imprint on my spirit, an empty region.
By Bikash Purkait2 years ago in Poets
Writing on meds . Content Warning.
As I am writing this, I chugged a good amount of sleeping pills. Not to kill myself of course but to calm myself down before I go to bed, to stop the nightmares that I normally have. They work too well must admit, I can't feel a thing. 20 minutes have already passed. I'm in my bed now. I hear the wind blowing, and my dog scratching the doors. He wants to lie down next to me. I can't get up, I can't force myself to go to him. I feel peace. I feel emptiness. The type of empty heart that other people have. I have now a normal heart, the one that feels nothing in times like this, in times of being alone in bed. Alone and bed. Bed and alone. Dog scratching doors, wind blowing.
By Sleeping Pills 2 years ago in Poets
Helen Keller. Content Warning.
in honor of 'Repeat Day', June 3, here's to the miracle worker, Anne Sullivan, in so many ways in the common world, there is not room to be normal. in a place where nobody is special, everyone wants to be extraordinary. where everyone hates the everyman strives to be. everyman strives to be. every man strives to be. but nobody is listening now. can't hear thunder in an echo. punishment from the pedestal on the hill. i am high and they are mighty, legendary. but i am legend. and everyman knows that every man shits and every man dies, but legends never bite the dust. they are made of ghosts, mass graves of the everyman all around me, everyman living dead inside, buried before their time. doing what Helen Keller would be if she was alive today.
By ⸘jason alan‽2 years ago in Poets
