As if my thoughts have taken form, they cling desperately to the anchor that steadies their ship.

Like a sailor approaching deadly waters, they plead in honey dripped hope, each word sticking to the other until it's one big mass of voices.

Sorrowfully they gather, clumping together to keep warm from the cold spray of reality.

The horrid thoughts pile up until they're spilling from my eyes.

trickling off the sides of their small boat, onto disarranged bedsheets where I lay.

The mass sea of the unknown world baffles me,

So much life wishes to remain undiscovered,

So many thoughts wished to never exist,

Hearts to never be fixed.

Pain to grow and grow,

With hope that one day, a person who really gets it will sweep it all way,

sweep me away,

and finally listen to all the thoughts that beg to be unheard.

This honey dripped hope,

Smeared around the lip of the cup

that's filled with the noxious medicine that is reality.

It trembles at the edge, mocking the world's cowardice.

What golden arrogance.


The ship never left the port

It sank where it floated

Into the phantasmal depths of the sea.

A brief pall of sand rose up, then fell-

After which, all was forgotten

Lucky ship

The ship sank to the belly of the World

Straight to Earths soul which burned dim like a lantern.

With steady hands the sailor gently supported her dying frame

The same caloused hands that had hit her we're now releasing her to the stars.

He took a deep breath, and like a kid in front of a cake-he blew out her flame

He couldn't release her to the stars, for his tears had filled the universe entirely.

His liquid palace-

It held them suspended in their grief,

One in perpetuity, the other the cause

To each other the world in its entirety


What need had they of the stars above?

No mystery remained there.

But them, the world did not know what to make of

Their fingers grew shy of the pencil they touched

As if their thoughts were drunk they struggled to function coherently

For the Earth had split between them, a barrier between love

Notes by pidgeons, and messages in bottles- they tried

But the pigeon had been shot in hunting, and the bottle swallowed by a whale

It was if life had turned on its top to keep them apart

But this isn't about how they found a way through the hardships

There isn't always happy endings, and this time life won

She became a mother of three, he became a business man

Like a bruise the memory of one another faded to nothing but skin

The truth of what he's done splatters the carpet, as guilt overcomes his tormented soul.

Not yet has he confessed, as he lays in his decrepit hospital bed.

Thirty stitches are what bind him between life and death.

Balancing on the fine spider's thread he cries into the phone.

"Why did you do this to your father. Now I have nothing!!! Do you have no soul?"

With one one final tug the string snaps, sending him into a plummeting whole of turmoil.

As he crashes onto the hard cold reality, the judge hits his gavel declaring him a convicted child molester.

Even so he doesn't give up.

With no dignity he scales the slick walls that surround him, desperate for someone to believe him, for someone to love him.

What the poor old fool fails to see is that no one ever really cared for him, even before the incident.

For he was a horrible man, before he became a horrendous man.

That's the the cold hard truth.

There is a sickness inside all of us
It writhes, it broods
Choking on its own neediness

"But they are only children,"
you may protest, "so young".
But when I see those serpentine bodies-
slithering under my skin, feasting
off the meat of my bones
off the blood of my life

is that innocence?

is that childlike?

I should hope not.


But-
I should thank them;
once I passed away, I heard...
them discussing...
how pretty my viscera looked...
Covered in precise starry patterns
Adorned with the carefully cultivated
putrid scent of
my
rotting
flesh

An affordable yet effective perfume


So please take note that until you are blessed
as I was,
You are not a well man.

He could not begin to fathom as to why

why did the brood of blood forget him

When he had cut his arms so they may feast from them

Seasoned his flesh to be a treat for their tiny razored mouths

After all he had done, after he wasted his life on their squirming mangled bodies.

He was not one to have demons like greed or pride

But it was inlined to happen as he could see the gluttony in his children's tiny glistening orbs

Such a repulsive look haunted him to no end

Even when he was hundreds of miles away locked in a cage, he could not help but wish to fly away- and never ever stop

anything just get away from the tiny beady eyes of his horrid offspring

What fetid levels of hell
did you pull yourselves up from?
Are you content with yourselves?
disgusting
disgusting
disgusting

there is not a drop of mercy to be found
in their writhing forms
only take, never give
their savage minds
only have room for each other

The dull white noise-
The utilitarian walls-
The listless employees-
The sharp slip of the surgical knife,
The suffocating scent of chemicals

Ironic that even in this laboratory
among the clouds
that should hold such hope,
I've never wished more
than to fall fast and hard

I'm far above them all, and yet I've been succumbed to such groveling lows

Those damned children were the cause of this horrid misfortune

They did not see the world, yet a mirror that reflected themselves and everything they ever wanted

The only blue they saw was the vast ocean in their cold eyes, empty and void of any life

Rosy red of they're fat chubby cheeks

Brown from the chocolate around those thin slimey lips

Such disgusting creatures were surrounded by mirrors

Ginormous polished mirrors with gold encrusted frames

But at least in the thick padded walls of his room there is not a single mirror

And not a single child

Best of all I'm completely void of any life

When it calmly asked if we've finished with our meals,
we say no
and stare down at our plates,
our forks trembling over the empty porcelain.

(please don't remind us that we are all out:
it only looks like we have nothing left to give,
but we swear, pretending is better)

But It is not a patient fellow
give up, give up
throw yourselves down
before It drags you down

2:22 AM
I feel as if the world is so far from me
The water that was so peacefully sleeping, suddenly adrift and unsettled
Leaves falling with every tear that soaked into the ground
Thousands of them,
Matching not the sway of the wind, but my heart
Hopefully, like the stars in the blooming night sky
I will refill again for the next day
For the next week,
Month,
Then year
For the next decade
Century
and,
Eternity

A dry hopelessness
happens to pervade the senses
Kick at the darkness-
your struggle is laughable

the future is worthless
when the main cast has become
dry echoes of former glory.
simply stunning, the height of that fall

will I have to mold my time
into neat cubicles?
argue with non-compliants,
drag through the long grey road ahead

The dust sticks to my throat
My sweat dries in rivulets.
I will wait for It,
Not meet and welcome

I know that our homecoming
would last but for a second
before that slick steel
becomes acquainted with my back

A whip of the lash is a small price to pay

For what I have received is unsurmountable

No man could ever take this away from me

I have hope

Hope stronger then that of the parched summer grass wishing for rain

Then That of a mother of two who's husband is across sees fighting in wars

Then That highschool kid applying for colleges, begging God to let him get out of the hood

Then That of the universe's endless expansion

I have so much hope in whats install for me

It's all I have, and if anyone ever dares to take it away

Then I'll just

Get

More

My glass is not half empty,
nor half full,
but turned right-side up-
my anticipation leaves me breathless

Put pearls before swine
and they will thoughtlessly trample them.
Beasts have no use for pearls
Their glasses are right-side up

"Hope is the thing with feathers"-
dirty, greasy, they stick together.
Try to push off into the sky,
and they drop like the stones
thrown at lepers on Molokai

Hi,
I'm really sorry that i have to interrupt this but this is literature therefore belongs on the Literature board:
Use this board to talk about novels, poems, short stories, and other written works.(http://dollars-bbs.org/literature/)
Unless you are trying to tell us something, and if you are please put them in simple words.
Once again, i'm sorry but it does say:
Personal Board
For people seeking personal help, life advice, or counseling.

There was no future for me ten minutes ago

I sat in the stained tile floor of my parents bathroom

My thoughts were as frequent as the pills I had neatly lined up

I imagined that with each one I swallowed brought me one step closer to a world of ecstasy

Even so i couldn't do it

I dont deserve happiness

I dont deserve pain either

The perfect punishment for someone like me would to feel nothing at all

To see no beauty, know no love, feel no anger

To be restrained from the things that make a person sane,

That is what I deserve

Time sits on my chest
like a poisonous toad.
Forcing my every breath
into a despondent miasma

Withered and sere is
the sickly void that I
casually glance back into-
ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Scrabbling around in the absence of light,
looking for something to hold up,
to refer to with, "this will be my redemption"
Nothing I have will ever be enough

A not-quite perfect circle
that I keep drawing, and redrawing, and redrawing