ages, it's been ages
waking up to the same fever dream
it's like your arm is still
threaded through mine
like spun silk
behind my eyes:
sinful tragedy, repeating,
like your teacup
. . . . . . .
burning my tongue,
but it's yours
we're the same, sometimes,
when i close my eyes
and the sun tells me: lies
stepping gingerly over ginger
cuts like roots underneath your
fingernails, connected to
fingers that play the piano for me
or did you?
i've got a toothache, but i
keep feeling it in my chest,
the leaves keep rustling and it
sounds like your name, but it's
just raindrops and raccoons, actually,
how long it's been
until i can open my eyes
but i don't
Echoes in and echoes out,
Whispers turn into a shout,
Their voices prowl through my thoughts,
hissing things I can’t make out,
They talk the same way fires burn,
sapping life with no concern,
I'm dry and cracked and limply dragged
to the point of no return,
Stumble through the mess of tears,
Watch them liquefy my fears,
Maybe it's just perspiration,
sliding gently to my ears,
Smoke and lava sear my skin,
Carve my walls all paper thin,
Crying never left me painless,
Hide behind my plastic grin,
Water proves thicker than blood,
I drown in a salty flood,
Nothing seems to be making sense,
Surrender to my heart’s thud,
Will I die to rain or flame?
Both sides think I’m theirs to claim,
Am I asleep or wide awake?
Tell the truth, is life a game?
Cough a song of sorrow sweet,
Block the voices here to greet,
They never come and never leave
as long as I’m here to meet,
Listen to the silent scream,
My heart sweats to form a stream,
Burning yet and forevermore
is me in my fever dream,
One hundred is such a small number,
Your sibling might have one hundred beads in her collection.
You have blinked one hundred times today
Your friend has taken one hundred breaths.
Your father has taken one hundred steps.
Someone might not have lived to see hour one hundred.
One hundred can also be a very large number.
In a battle one hundred lives were lost.
Someone my only have one hundred minutes to live.
Another person my have cried one hundred tears.
Someone heart could have been broken one hundred times.
Another thing, This post is only one hundred words.
I am the oldest of three.
The is a baby sister, a middle brother and me.
As the oldest I take on most of the responsibilities.
While my youngest sibling, my sister handles most of the formalities.
However, the middle child; being my brother...
He has no are in the world, he is unique, and like no other...
I am my dads weakness, and often win any of our battles.
My sister is my mom's, and she knows just how to be my mothers annoying rattle.
But, with my brother, there is no hope.
for he is the middle child, the one that never feels bad to see no.
He is the one, that makes you laugh even when his jokes no sense.
The one who sees the rules as 'made to be bent'
And believe me when I say he can be irritating, and stubborn.
But that's how all middles kids are, that is their norm
Listens to no one and does whatever he deems right.
oh, and believe me when I say, with him you will never win a fight.
He is the weakness to my household, and can not be controlled.
But that's what he thinks, being the oldest I now how to make him cave and fold.
He is my first best best friend, and my partner in crime.
Without him, I don't think my childhood would have worth the time.
He stole my heart the minute he arrived...
And in that moment I knew what being a sister meant, how it is defined.