You misjudged me
I knew you would fantasize
Fantasize that this would save you
Yea I love the dark
But I’m not scared of the light
“Becoming Persephone” from beneath the elysian fields by troy nightshade (2020)
Edwin Arlington Robinson, Eros Turannos
Have you ever thought about how fulfilling your dreams can make you feel small?
How you become insignificant to such grand ideas?
How much of a dream, when finally seeing it from reality, can consume you?
Have you ever thought about how it can become a nightmare?
How it can suck the last breath of life out you?
Is this what you wanted, is this what you really wanted…
How much of it can you take before it takes hold of you?
Will you be able to emerge from the nightmare that becomes the path
To find peace at the end of it all
I made it
-sink or swim
Charles Baudelaire, Consecration
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore”
this book is probably the prettiest and most aesthetically pleasing thing i’ve ever seen
Sadness couldn’t make me quit
So love tore my soul apart
Life couldn’t make me stay
Now death rules in my heart…
Edwin Arlington Robinson, Ben Jonson Entertains a Man from Stratford
My pockets are filled with regrets,
I pass on with my hands,
still stuck into a glued past
counting accident and errors on rose petals,
I could have avoided.
I hide the petals for mistakes,
I couldn’t have avoided,
and hide them for my present
where they rot into the sweetness
of rosewater,I wipe my tears with.
But, my pocket has a burnt hole,
and my fingers are stitched,I watch the roses,
dripping along the way,
and condense to thorns.
I felt a new emotion tonight
I felt at home
Like I did this before
I know you’re here
But I’ll stay awhile
I’m in no rush dear
I died inside, I thrived
Repaint the walls inside this cage
Colours no longer cover-up
The blood I bled.
So here we go again,
In between four walls
And an empty bed
Tremors and sweaty hands
It’s dark and light then dark again
I am marked by you,
By the blood running through my veins
You left me in this state
The dealer lives inside my brain
Empty soul, I need my fix
When sleepless nights return again
You come back to me,
You come back in waves,
You come back and haunt me…
There’s no calm before the storm
You and I won’t make it ‘till tomorrow
This is the last overdose.
~ A. A. Roman
Hope holds me by the throat
It lets me breathe on it’s own terms
Exsanguination darling, it’s the door to the unknown. Drain my veins, lock my lips. Let me show you where the blood used to flow.
when edgar allan poe said:
“the truth is, i am heartily sick of this life and of the nineteenth century in general.”
i felt that.