To whoever needs this today,
I’ve noticed you’re not okay.
To be honest I felt the same yesterday
and I know this is cliché
but it’s okay to not be okay.
The road to better is not a straight line
and honestly “better” is hard to define
so please do not make perfection a shrine
and stop telling me you’re fine
if you’re dying inside.
I’m afraid of the dark is what I used to say & think. But now, I have come to realise, that it is not that I am afraid OF the dark ; but instead is I’m afraid of WHAT’S in the dark.
Meh, Potatoes Pota-toes
I dislike religion and sports for the same reason: both are so organized they tend lose their original meaning.
When you start crafting rules - daily rituals / practices - emotional ties - books - institutions - etc. then the original point of your entire endeavor can easily get lost.
Hence when I read or hear about Satanism all I can think is, "Huh, that's cute. What's the difference?"
- You're still creating an organized system
- You're still pushing some kind of belief
- You're still establishing rituals, dogma, books, practices, etc.
Were you meaning to be anti-Christian or anti-establishment? Because the simple answer to that is to just not be Christian or step away from established practices and let go.
Most Satanists I've met are people who thrive on pushing other's buttons by choosing to engage them on the same terms / field. They're reactionary, not revolutionary, and while I don't begrudge their efforts I'm just not sold on the ultimate efficacy of their ideals.
Personally I don't believe in the Bible, Christ, Satan, God, angels, heaven, hell or the rest of it. As far as I'm concerned it's all made up. One culture's made up theory of how things began isn't any more true than another culture who believes the world sits on the back of a cosmic turtle. Honestly I'd rather bet on the turtle guy even if astronomy contradicts him; remember your religion believes in winged and horned people riding on sunbeams for Christ the lich's sake.
An Elaboration, Part I
Brought to you, by me
From the ones who did the hurting
(Mostly myself, if I'm being honest)
Let's start at the beginning
Tear me apart piece by piece
Take this tapestry down thread by thread
(I was never good at seeing the big picture)
A little girl with too sad eyes, alone, always alone
Even amongst the others, so very much alone
Lost in the woods, lost in her mind, hiding
Hiding from everything, all the damn time
What would the monsters say if they realized
real life was so much scarier?
I don't fear the bogeyman or the ghost in the attic
My fear exists in the unknown reality, what happens if…
My fear was always more existential
Is my time here useless
Does any of it matter
If I disappeared tomorrow, would it change a single thing
I can hear it now, the platitudes, well meaning and chocked full of care
But I don't know if they are true
(Some have told me they aren't)
I have a hard time with reality these days
Unsure if it's what I think it is or if it's something more (or is it less?)
I'm trying to figure myself out and it's taking so much time
Screams fueled you so I learned to whisper;
secrets lining the bottom of my mattress.
Skinny spaces where only myself and my
dreams could fit. Crashing through the
door drunk on rage; you never thought
to look in the places where you couldn’t
get into yourself. 5 seconds…run!
My fingers tips learned how to press
out window screens quicker than
they could open soda cans.
Hide in the trees; deep breathing.
Prayers dancing on my tongue,
tears begging to fall.
They never talk about the
childhood moments that
could ruin you.
More Than a Flower
#poetry #poem #writing #poet #writer #trauma
I burnt it down.
Forget the blue
haze we woke up in,
it’s all red now.
I buried my face into
your neck and I cried
so hard I thought
I’d die. Oxygen wasn’t
making it to my brain,
it was tired up,
around my throat
telling me “it’s okay.
We can die today.”
Could you remember?
When I really did want
to die? When I hated
everything inside &
outside? When I’d
starve and bleed for
fun; tracing the damage
I’d done with fingertips
that we’re almost gone?
I don’t want to die anymore.
I’m trying to pull away.
I’m afraid. I’m afraid.
I have so much more I want
to say, the words that could
never escape, the ones
I need to speak to your face…
The universe is calling for pay.
I take everything that is left
(besides myself) and set it aflame.
“Here, here you go!
Not me. Not me.
I’m not ready today!”
More Than a Flower
#poetry #poem #trauma #abuse #writing
Shooting Star Romance.
We fell in love fast,
in temporary starlight
after just one kiss.
One soft touch,
glance. I didn’t
need anything else
in that moment
but now I need you
to want to make
it last. Don’t
just call me
“star seed” and
make me laugh.
Let me see the
way that your heart
beats, tell me
your secrets; let’s
be more than
a shooting star
More Than a Flower
#poetry #poet #poem #writing #love #romance
It’s not raining yet but I can feel it coming;
smell the rain just hovering above me. Yellow
umbrella, Edgar Allen Poe, day dreaming
on a rooftop overlooking a cemetery. I can feel you sitting
behind me, brushing my wild fire hair behind my ear,
your breath is warm; it brings
tears to my eyes. When I turn, instead
of being graced by the sight of your beautiful face,
I’m hit with brutal wind. You told me you would go
but I thought I could fix it. I held you when you cried,
burying my own tears in the pits of my stomach.
I know you know I loved you. I also know it wasn’t enough.
People don’t understand the pain that we
go through when “there’s nothing wrong.” I knew.
I knew you were hurting. Your green eyes used to go
right through me, piercing everything inside. I don’t blame you.
I just miss you.
More Than a Flower
#poetry #poem #poet #poems #missingyou #love
the first year of my new life.
in reality, life
cannot be told in years.
there are always wonderful days,
there are always horrible days,
and most days are just
with this, i drift.
my father gives me his new spare key.
my mother givers me the second key to the mail box,
and i pretend:
the jangle of keys in my pocket is not
the sound of my life
I might be lonely, worthless and lost, but I will continue, for I am alive.