Warmth and Passion

There was nothing that could be seen. It was darker than black, the cold enveloping me slowly.

I felt you next to me, warmth radiating off of you, yet I could not reach it. There was no light pushing through the darkness and the warmth gets stripped away, like a black hole, growing bigger with your light and warmth.

Directly in sight, I long to be next to you, your warmth penetrating deeply and fully, engulfing the darkness and eradicating it. Cold replaced with heat, replaced with emotion and passion once again, living life as it should be.

I long to be there next to you, to feel the warmth and passion enter me, to give to you the way you give to me. If only life could be easy and I did not feel empty the way I do now.

Inside the Darkness

I lie weak and numb as the darkness

Grows and deepens with hatred,

Dark shadows lick at my wounds,

Blood trickling down my skin.

I wait for the pain to end

And wait for the darkness to disappear

And for light to shine once more.

I wait for there to be a reason to breathe,

For a reason to feel again

Rather than wasting away as a numb

And empty shell of the human I once was.

 

Featured

Anxiety

My skin is burns underneath the surface,

Ants crawling up and down,

Setting fire to every cell in my body

And an uncontrollable itch and pain

In an unreachable place.

 

I claw at my skin,

Talons tearing the skin to shreds,

Blood pours from my wounds,

Yet there is no relief

The anguish I feel.

 

My heart beats faster,

Breathing gets heavier

With every passing moment

Desperate to feel more,

To feel more than never-ending pain.

 

My skin dangles from muscle,

Tendons twitching from the fresh air

And tears that pour from my cheeks,

Blood drips to the floor, but all this pain

Led to no eternal relief,

As I know there will be a resurgence of pain.

 

 

Short Poetry

Poem #1

I couldn’t imagine,

Couldn’t create,

Because anxiety shook

My hands

And I couldn’t

Control thoughts

From my head.

 

Poem #2

I need nothing from you,

No emotion or soul or touch.

Give me nothing to give me everything.

 

Poem #3

A thousand needles,

A frail and innocent creature,

Nature does not nurture.

Illusions 

Another short story that I wrote. I have started writing them, practicing for a full novel that I am working on. Hope y’all enjoy.

Illusions


I am hiding away from the demons. They always come at night. That’s why I keep all the lights on in the apartment. The more the better.

There are knives underneath my pillow. I need something to protect myself with if they brave the light.

My greatest treasure, my greatest accomplishment, is my padded floor and walls. Should they decide to attack, and one day they will, I have cushion to bounce from and to keep the demons attached. They hate the cotton of the walls. 

I’m going to sleep now. My armor has my arms ready, on my back, with my knives at my fingertips. 

I welcome the demons. I welcome them in their white skin to come at me. I will draw their blood, like they did to me. 

Empty Eyes

The eyes are a gateway to the soul. If the eyes are broken or lifeless, then it is easy to see that the person in possession of the eyes has been severely hurt.

Empty Eyes

 

I wasn’t always so hollow,

Completely broken down and shallow,

With no light in my eyes.

Some people will let out a sigh

Of pity when I describe

My scenario, they think it’s a crime

To be robbed of life and color,

But my hollow eyes appear to be normal to me.

The Lost Mind

The Lost Mind

 

I did not welcome you into my home,

You were not invited into the precious dome

That contains the most critical component

Of who I am; don’t think for a moment

That you will rule my mind.

You began your assault from the side

And crept in, destroying the happiness

I possessed, you stole the brightness

That I so dearly treasured in my memories,,

The things that were accessories

For who I was as a person.

Your mission was to worsen

My self-identity and self-worth, my personality.

You destroyed it all and left me with the mentality

And physicality of the dead beneath my feet.

Bipolar, if you were a person, I would beat

You into a literal lump of pulp

And consume your painful existence with a gulp

So no one has to suffer anymore

And so you can be nevermore.