Dreams of Poetry

She’s Tired

Cut into her skin to see what she’s made of

    Her bones shake with noise

    Her heart beats a rhythm

    Her blood flows to a melody that escapes

        with every slice of her vein

Though they say she’s beautiful

They don’t see the scars of battle

    There is no peacetime in this war.

She’s tired. 

They say “keep fighting”

    but they don’t know

        that she gave up long ago

You see, there is a monster that can’t be killed.

It will win in the end

No matter how much she puts in.

This is no fight.

It is a bloodbath

    There is no coming back.

Capsules unload down her throat and her eyes close

She’s tired.

She swallows the poison with no hesitation

    and lays on her bed

        whiskey by her head.

She never knew the appeal of the drink

    but figured it would do the trick.

All she ever wanted in life was the sleep when she was sick.

They told her she was born with illness in her mind 

    and too much compassion.

They said she should look out for herself

    so she looked into her heart

She saw the exhaustion and knew what to do.

She fell asleep and will never come to.

Auto-Pilot

Going through the motions of every day
Trying to make you all think I’ve changed my ways.
Living life stuck in this daze.
This maze. 

How could you believe I changed my mind?
Have you met me? I’m not fine.
I don’t believe I should even try
Not me. Not I.

All I’ve ever wanted to hear is what I tell you.
Yet no one gets the hint, they don’t have a clue.
“Don’t worry sweetie, it’s nothing you do.
Would I lie to you?”

And as my fingers tremble with the ache of memories
I wish you were here to give my hand a squeeze. 
If no one were around I’d drop to my knees
And Death I would plead.

(Source: dreamsofpoetry)

I want to be alone right now
with nothing but my thoughts
Nobody here can ever know
exactly what I’ve fought
I always try
but never do
Leaving you all behind
words and thoughts
leave their marks
but no one can see
these scars upon my heart
they say people will always feel
what you do for yourself
but is that still true
when I only feel hatred for me, too
I’ll never know what it’s like
to completely love myself
but at least I can see
who knows the truth
and who only ever sees the lie

(Source: dreamsofpoetry)

Have You Ever

Let’s all get together
for a rousing game of “have you ever” 

Have you ever felt so low 
that nothing was real?

Have you ever wanted to paint a canvas of skin and veins
Only to regret it every day?

Have you ever wanted to run away from every pain
And live your days in another place?
Have you ever been told no?

Have you ever been afraid to disappoint;
Afraid you couldn’t work your own voice?

Have you ever wondered what it’s like on the other side?
I wonder if it’s really a heaven in the sky?
Maybe it’s nothing and you really do just die. 

Have you ever felt so buried under stress
that you couldn’t even get dressed?

Have you ever wanted to down a bottle
And feel powered, full-throttle?

Have you ever hoped to bleed dry
So you could be light enough to fly?

Have you ever dreamed of bleeding skin
then woke up, wishing it had happened?

Have you ever loved the pain of an open sore
So much so that you made some more?

Have you ever loved someone so much so
that you didn’t even care where your own life would go?

I have. 

All these things.

I can’t talk anymore.

My heart is throbbing.

(Source: dreamsofpoetry)

Striped Smiles

Your smile lights up my whole life
When I look in your eyes, it’s like 
I’m flying through a dusty sea
When I catch your waves, you see me
It’s as if you already know me
Our brains are alike
And so are we
I look in my soul
And I see
You and me
Will you understand, please?
I know, I know, I know
I’m so sorry.
And when you look at me
It’s me who can’t breathe
Now I’m the claustrophobia
And you’re the door for me to leave
And you can see right through me
I really can’t explain it
Our brains are alike 
And so are we.

(Source: dreamsofpoetry)

I don’t know when to say

“Well you’re going to die anyway.”

(Source: dreamsofpoetry)

My gaze sweeps over the streets of the muse of our spirit. 
The men click their heels.
The women dance to their ancestors’ beat.
The children clap and keep their time. 
We live in a swirl of our own past.
Fields and crops
Love and loss.
We remember
We live on.

(Source: dreamsofpoetry)

The Big Bloody House

Walking up to the big beautiful house.
a mansion of sorts. 
Open the door, revel in the amazing novelties in each room.
The bookshelf.
The big piano.
The grand staircase.
The host tells her to head up to her quarters. 
Up the stairs she floats
her head in a daze from the extravagance surrounding her. 
Into the room that could fit a barn,
she gazes around.
Her eyes glance over 
the desk
the armoire
the windows with a view
the doors to the bathroom
finally,
the giant bed. 
white sheets
white pillows
white blankets
pure, fine, snowy. 
Her legs blur and she bounds into the bed. 
As she snuggles in,
her heart drops. 
She hates it here.
She wants to leave.
The door locks behind her. 
She calls for the host.
Screams to be released. 
Demands to leave the beast. 
But the beast will never leave. 
He begins to come alive.
She sees a kitchen knife. 
Suddenly, she, herself, is the enemy. 
The beast tells her what to do. 
get the legs, the arms, ribs and face, too.
Her body drains, every second is another pint. 
Her breath smells of blood
Her hair matted, but
She finally finds peace. 
She remembers how she loves the beast. 
But no. 
She can’t stay. 
What of her friends?
She can’t leave the devastation behind. 
These lives are more than a tweak of the spine. 
Her bloody knees shake
Her gashed elbows tremble
They need me! They need me! It’s not this simple! 
As I awake from this dream
I know what I need.
I feel my heart beat
as even my eyes bleed.

Pretense of Perfection

We all have this pretense of perfection.
No one wants to believe in flaws. 

We are pushed to be perfect.
Pushed so hard.
Pushed too far.

Reaching perfection 
Is like touching the sky.

Always the goal
Not ever probable.

Many think that perfection is a dream.
Instead, it’s a nightmare. 

A nightmare we wake up crying from. 

Love is the beginning and the end. 

Perfection is a nice image
But never believe that it will happen.

Every day we get closer to perfection
And yet, we will never be as close
As we are right now.

The Black Dog

Shh! Quiet down
Shut your mouth.
Hear that sound?
It’s drowning you out.

Listen close.
Silent as a ghost.

The whimpering
The barking
The biting
The fighting

Do you see them?
Inside your life’s hole.
They’re there
Fighting for your soul.

One dog,
Black as night
It seems as though he’s winning the fight

The other,
Brighter than light.
Covered in wounds, he doesn’t move.

I kneel next to the bloody hound,
But I leave kibble all around.

The black one eats
‘til he’s had his fill.

The white one lifts his head for a crumb of strength
I push his head back down and stroke him lovingly

But comfort means nothing when he’s dying
The black dog’s finished, he comes up beside me,
His head in my lap.
The white dog’s crying.

The puddle of blood grows
I am being swallowed whole.

I see the flames beneath
So I jump to my feet.
I lean over to see.

The black dog’s tail swings side to side
As he looks his master in the eye.
Is it possible for a dog to smile?

I begin to fear
I pull the white dog near.

The dark one growls
My heart rejoices

“I don’t understand”
The white one wails.
His eyes close.
Stillness covers his tail.

My eyes overflow
My face breaks down
My hands grasp out
I’m falling down.

This agony is leaving
My chest no longer heaving

But the black dog grabs me
Pulls me from peace
Tosses me aside
I lean on the beast

I look to the white dog
Sadness fills my heart

But then,

His eyelids part.

But the black dog has quite the head start.

(Source: dreamsofpoetry)