pools of simmering promise
words pile up useless and trapped in a forgetful haze, bottled up tears and sympathetic wishes. I sure wanted to shed some tears in exchange for a kind word, but it worked out funny. keep eyes lazy, chocolate and driven off cliffs, and maybe one day that drive will be redirected. so much time wasted browsing, browsing for better ways and mental vacation stays. bitter neck bites, lonely late at night.
aimless hopes and worsened dreams, poisoned by masochism's close links with serotonin production; never healthy, smiling hatred. a great love of self-induced torture allowed a stiff body to crumble into shaky grins. crave that love like dusk in summertime alaska, roll in stars and knock out teeth (hold them in place. pray that they notice the blood). methodical illnesses leave too much left to the imagination.
fickle friend, darkened ends. hoped that maybe you were different; they never are. a fanatical youth constructs origami figures of you late at night in hopes that you'll be lying in a bed of roses when they wake up, quenching the thirstiest drought. still, it must be nice to be my muse, right? let's pray that you never find out, and that this state of affairs is only temporary, in some way or another. grow up faster so that we can spend more quality time indulging in earth's smaller pleasures.
it is rather unsatisfying to forcefully dwell on paradise's fingernails tracing hearts across neglected skin. bubbly rainchecks catch in my throat, because they don't exist. can't reschedule if there was no event occurring in the first place. so they all go out and wander across each others' minds, and I sit in bed wondering why the paths across the ravines separating us are barricaded. subside in abdominal aches and rubbed eyes, sleep more than usual. fill up days with tears and screens.
maybe one of these days I'll feel (w)reckless enough to do as such to your filthy facade, square up with my lips collapsing onto yours, shove my origami words into your stupid beautiful face. still I'm shaking, you're too far away from yourself to come find me. I'm left waiting for signs from a rainy bus stop; in this universe, there are no puzzle pieces that my serrated grooves fit in with. wet anger seeping into a battered broken heart, asked for affection and received isolation.
the footholds are few underground, so hazardous. always falling when hastening for the surface, where everyone else is (seemingly) exchanging soul's gold; heard the laughter and reached until my joints popped apart, fractured bones fell beside me as tears keep streaming into unnamed rivers. they'll drain it, bottle it in glass, and crack it open amongst at-ease bodies. so much potential, they'll muse, all gathered up for us to drink. so much potential, I heard echo into headache, as life threw rocks at my heart.
focus on the choreography; you don't know what you're doing, rely on muscle memory, feeling faint. keep your heart choked in your chest so it can't beat for anyone, your loosened grip whenever you catch sight of him is disgusting, and nobody finds it amusing. provide a hardline stare into life that won't yield enough to sustain you. sharpen harsh until it feels like nothing. that feeling of bitter nothingness is better than all of the pain that you want to endure, better than the forthcoming disappointment.
depth has so much to say, it's a wonder I'm not drowning. stray heartbeats keep the circulation flowing, albeit not quickly enough. so desperately aimless. so desperately clinging to hopes of change and wistful melodies, craving more tears that might wash away ink scrawled on skin. all in due time - and stomachache, apparently.
YOU ARE READING
Don't Try [Poetry]Poetry
a testament to the troubling winds. my poetry doesn't follow any rules. ✨minimal to no cursing✨depression✨hopeless romantic babble✨ proceed with caution. 2018-2019