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Just a hidden inch upon her body. Backwards; shoelaces untied, facedown upon cold concrete banging fists on broken glass .Screaming
in languages she cannot speak, speaking words she would never say.Asking for help and having her hand
slapped away. Should she continue to curtsy as a courtesy to you? Or should she shrug it off and pretend it's no longer happening?

I want to run. Take my tattered green flipflops off and run down the filthy, empty street until my feet are numb and bloody and my lungs are about to explode. And then I want to keep running. If the only mark I leave on this world are bloody footprints at least someone somewhere will see them.

I feel disconnected. like last years hydro. I feel homeless therefore I must be. What good is the roof if you can't see in the dark? And I can't see in the dark, the light, or the fucking tunnel, for that matter. I have fallen,
like Alice, into nothingness.

Forgotten by most, hated by even more. I have ruined lives simply by telling the truth and did it help? No. Does it change anything? No.

I am not alone yet I am lonely. I smoke while I write and I hope for change. I pray and pray for nothing. I do not swim for fear of drowning, what if I just stop breathing? Life has become forced but love has not. "I crave him, need him, breath for them."

Trusty Mr. V kicks in and I slowly float back down. Swallowed is my newest anthem. I feel like I'm taken aback into oblivion. I want to pack up and
leave; just check out, start over without the faceless game. A life of valium and cerequil and eating mechanically.

I know it scares him when he wakes to find me crumpled up at the end of the bed and unwakeable. I'm sure he checks to make sure I'm still breathing, too. He's all but counting the meds, questioning me and searching my bloodshot eyes for lies when I am chemically incapable of lying to him, when I never would anyway.

Back to the circle we go if for no other reason than life has fucked us and we need to learn some new lesson.

[ Post made via Android ]

Wow, you think with such incredible depth... You told a story I know. Somewhere, right now, there is a girl I know who feels this right now. She isn't with me but she should be. He keeps her as high as she needs to be, knowing only that my very existence is a clipping of her wings. Word. I'll be checking out more of your poetry when time permits. Thanks for thinking something I could relate to, even in passing, like my love.

Forgotten by most, hated by even more. I have ruined lives simply by telling the truth and did it help? No. Does it change anything? No

favorite Exert.

This shit was awesome.. very heartfelt fluid and thought full

also very relatable which is nice to see in poetry.

i like the fact that you spoke the truth and steer towards fabrications of it. i really like that it seemed like it was about you directly.

Good job Glam

Well now I'm depressed. This isn't good. This is great, because right about now I feel something that I didn't feel before reading this. And now I want to write. And since imitation is the most sincere form a flattery, I'll write.

I can't get up.
I can't fall down.
I'm petrified. Suspended in the abyss of my desire.
As it grasps me, envelopes me, it takes in every last ever so sacred gasp of fucking air I have left, I want to cry out.
I want to tell them who I am.
I want them to see, to see me, to see what I am, what I have become.
I want to feel.
I want to be alive.
I know that I am.
My heart is beating.
My eyes are open.
My soul is present, but tortured.
Is this life? Is this what it means to exist?
Medically, physically I exist. But I am not alive.
I am not who I once was, nor who I wanted to be.
My body aches, my veins scream, my core shakes for what has become my sole purpose.
Is this life? Is this what I have become?
No one sees. No one knows. No one cares.
But I see them, oh how I see them. Their white picket fences, postcard lives, and sense of achievement.
How are they different from me? Maybe we aren't so different after all. I realize now that they and I are kindred, one in the same.
Their abyss is brighter, yet still an abyss.
They seek indulgence, I seek meaning, they seek comfort, I seek grace.
We all exist. But do we live?
Do we ever procure that which we seek so simultaneously half and wholeheartedly?
We all fall into different means, different statures, but we still all fall. We fall to the same end.
I just seem to be in a hurry to get there.
I stumble to the doorway, sinking, clawing, gasping. I feel the warmth of the crimson proof of my mortality slowly trickling down my limbs. Warmth like I've never felt, the comfort for which I have been longing for, dying for, for so long.
I see that proverbial light.
I climb, run, sprint toward it with all the strength that my battered being will allow.
I see them, they're waiting for me, I'm finally home.
I know something is wrong, I can see it in their faces. They fade, and my warm utopia reverts to the stained linoleum and broken windows of the prison from which I had given everything to escape from.
I can't get up.
I can't fall down.

-- Thu Nov 17, 2011 5:53 am --

probably should have started a new thread, but I literally wrote that right after you told me to come look at your post, so consider it feed, wouldn't have happened if I hadn't read what you wrote, not that it's anywhere near as good.

damn ~ depression is infectious. Good stuff man. I saw that gloomy emotion gradually forming anger, an anger that has been buried under a pit of inflicted sorrow, and this anger breaks free uncontrollably. However as I see this sensation spewing out of her, it all results to her unfortunate and permanent position. Good shit man

[ Post made via Mobile Device ]

Thanks for the feed, kids!

This was written as an exercise to work through the writers block on my novel. Glad it's well received lol.

[ Post made via Android ]

it seems sooo simple but digs sooo deep, It's like you pull these words from my heart... You're a beautiful writer Shanda. There is a war inside all of us and you have an amazing ability to pull that war outside of yourself and paint it right in front of our faces, you show us the rawness of human emotion and the beauty that comes with it. Amazing... Even if it was just written to shake the dust.

[ Post made via Windows Smartphone ]