you’re a bandit that stole gold from
my soul and my heart. I beg for you
to give it back, but you’re a master
at your craft and I’m forced to keep
my qualities hidden from you.
going home to be ugly in peace is one of my favourite things to do.
1. breakfast (205): tangerine, caramel biscuits and white yogurt
2. afternoon snack (132): tangerines, caramel biscuits and coffee
3. dinner (245): half of a banana, pickles, bun with cream cheese and brownie with cream filling
Beautiful buildings; how their architecture once stood strong and proud above me. Their romantic arches and soft curls of marble now lay scattered across the cobblestone roads. The pale flowers I had planted on every corner are no where to be seen. I don’t know where they went. Maybe they shrivelled up back into the ground, where they would be safe. The river has dried up. Everything is dying. What happened to my city? Where are the people? The ladies, the gentlemen, the babies, the children… where have they all gone. All I see now is rubble. Dust is my only companion.
So let me lie here. Like a captain goes down with his ship, let a girl go down with her city.
This poem is about what is going on in my head. Not to get all artsy but I do believe that my mental state is like a city. Once it was a beautiful, booming city similar to that of Cambridge and now… I can’t recognise the streets I created.
Up at another bar, give me your strongest drink.
10 double whiskeys down, you tell me to stop, I don’t give a shit what you think.
I’ll fucking bounce off the walls in your bathroom and crack my chin on the sink.
Nothing like an alcoholic drink to take my mind off the thoughts that bring me to the brink.
I hear the thoughts of harm, they start to call.
I see the wall, I feel myself bounce around like a basketball.
It would surprise you to know that that’s not all.
That I’m really much more than alcohol poured.
I feel so alone, it feels like I’ve trodded down this road before
But I can’t help repeat, can’t help craving for more.
All these holes in my psyche, all these addictions form cracks
Bleeding the hole in my brain to lead me to my eventual Relapse.
You’re a dream, inexplicably beautiful, that on some nights, when I lay restless in the cold of my bed, I find myself wanting to go back to the image of your lush forest eyes, the scent that envelops every fiber of my skin so intoxicatingly, I bury my face deeper in the sheets trying to find a remiscent trace left of you. You run through my veins like poison, but you love it, I know you do. And as if that extra second will bring me an eternity, deep down I know you’re never coming back.
A short and simple prose entry got an unsimple experience. To hold on for the maybe ? Or to let go for the future ? Which one is more right ?
The Love forged by the Gods… A poem set in Cracked City.
I live in a world
Where people are showing happy faces
with their hearts broken
In a world where dreams are better than reality
Where they value pride more than anything else
People with unseen scars
and battling a war all alone every day
I live in a world
Where people are wearing a mask
afraid to show their true selves
afraid to be judged by society
Where people don’t have contentment
and always wanting for more, craving for more
Where people have a lust for life
and looking for a will to live
I live in a cruel world
Where people always smile
with a knife stabbed in their chest
where kindness is rare
and true love is a luxury
You send butterflies up my spine
Making me feels things i havent in a while
Forcing giggles up my throat
And your smile makes my heart sing
I dont know much spanish simply because i listen to you more than the teacher.
Greatings and salutations.
help me/but if you dont/ill still be here/waiting/watching/from afar/wanting/waiting/please help me/please/i cant go much further/without this/no one will help/i am gone/
SPLIT ATTEMPT #12
If I slouch
Will the pain lessen?
by geraldine leatherskirt
We were friends but we drifted apart. And when we saw each other again, when you greeted me, it was obvious it was on purpose. I don’t blame you. Who would want to stay friends with such a miserable old person as me? I’m old news. Stay away.
But it still hurt. I miss you. And I wish that you still want to talk to me. But its alright. You’ve moved on and I understand. Just…
Please don’t forget me.
right now you’ve literally survived everything you’ve ever had to face and sure it’s been hard but you DID that and you will keep doing it because life is worth it! you will see so many more beautiful things and cry at movies and read incredible poems. you will keep going. and you’ll be okay.
Sometimes I just want a hug; but then again I know you don’t want people thinking we’re more than what we are.
- J.T. Waters
You are the reason for the butterflies in my stomach.
For the excited flutter of my heart,
When I see your beautiful midnight eyes.
You are the reason for that warm fuzzy feeling
That burns deep within my guts.
Not lust, but love and admiration.
You are the reason for the sparkle in my eyes.
The reason that the dimple on my left cheek appears,
because I am actually smiling with my heart.
But I know,
That when the deed is done.
I am not the reason,
For your anything.
‘The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore, but to be in the lake. You do not work the lake out, it is a experience beyond thought. ’ by John Keats
Why do we live?
What is it we are so desperate for to reach?
Is there even a deeper meaning behind living?
And if not, does it even matter if we are alive?
There are millions of us but why is it that some seem to be more important than me for example?
Just cause they created something bigger than i did?
Or said something smatter that i have?
I don’t think that make them more important so why do others?
Shouldn’t be my voice as important as theirs?
We are all make out of blood, bones, muscles etc.
I don’t think I’ll ever understand why there are so many labels.
Black. White. Gay. Straight. Transgender. Muslim. Woman. Men.
Aren’t we all just humans?
And shouldn’t we not just try to be the best of us every single day?
Why is there so many hate?
Why is it more important how much money we earn or how many Instagram followers we have?
Who we are inside, our actions, our opinions, our character’s should be much more important that that.