Tag Archives: creative writing

Taking the Bait

The pain twists and turns around inside,
Like itchy, creepy vines crawling up my spine.
The thorns stab all the deep dark corners
Where I keep my secrets–images of you.

There is no crevice this poison doesn’t reach,
Seeping into my pores and organs and more.
It squeezes me dry and leaves me hollow,
Leaving me to wallow in my own wet tears.

I reach for my memories but it is too late,
They’re distorted and forced out–they were bait.
I took it and swallowed knowing nothing else could be done.
Holding on to what was left, I left it all behind.

What Will I Do?

What will I do when I no longer have you
To stitch my wounds closed and close my eyes
To the cruelty of the world?

What will I do when I no longer have you
To take the sword out of my chest
And the pain gets the best of me?

What will I do when I no longer have the ability
To get up out of my bed anymore
Without wanting more from the universe?

What will I do when I am no longer alive
Inside, where I keep the image of you safe
And sound becomes the melody of my fears?

What will I do when I no longer have you?

Emptiness

The company given just serves as a shell,
And empty nest to calm and quell.

It only leaves the left feeling more unwell,
And makes the right feel wrong as hell.

It stings the skin in a cruel way,
Until the blood can no longer be kept at bay.

It burns the eyes with such strong rays,
Making them water and hurt all day.

This hard shell serves as a home,
Comforting all that feel alone.

Only when the naive enter do they hear the ghastly moans,
And the creaky floorboards that grimace and groan.

This home will only haunt,
Best leave before you are caught.

Denied Access

I

A closed off world, no longer reachable by me. My brain, not wrapping around the intricate non-geometry–such an abstract plane. This same world used to play right into my hands, dancing on the fingertips of my misery, the fingertips unique to each different mystery. Now the mysteries go unsolved as the pen stops and so do my thoughts.

II

The locks won’t stop me from checking though. I’ll go down every alley until I can access that universe again–the one I used to get lost in, loved in, felt safe in. The one that accepted me when my family couldn’t, the one that filled the void when my own universe broke. I know it’s hidden away somewhere, I still have the key–I just can’t find the right lock.

III

The universe, the universe. Abundant indeed, always came to me in my time of need. I drowned in it without dying, frowned in it without crying, and was allowed to do what I want without my limits always lying. I want  to go back, if only it’d let me. Where is it now–why does my memory escape me?

IV

I think I’ve found it–there was just a small piece missing. It turns out that every door was unlocked, I just didn’t have the strength to knock. I knocked them down and threw away the key–a very useless thing, trivial to me. Only strength of emotion can get me in–a happiness, sadness, anger, or frustration. I’ve made my own kind of key and will use it well, though honestly, only time will tell.

Really, now

Lost myself?

I am only now allowed to find myself,
Coming up from under the rock that is your fist,
I’m experiencing my firsts,
A grown up baby,
Still a baby due to your fumbling,

Mumbling that you don’t know me anymore,
When you never knew me in the first place,
Because you didn’t want to see me as anything but your idea of perfect.

Don’t talk to me
If all you have to say is “slut”,
Because I know I’m not
Forgetting what I am? Forgetting where I’m from?
I wish, but I will never forget being ruled under your thumb,

That shy girl is not the girl you thought you raised,
Obedient little girl you (hardly) praised,
Please, allow, allow for once in your life,
Me
To show you who I am and how I’ve changed
Because I’m no longer your little minion,
Despite what you think I’ve grown quite independent…
Actually always have been, but you never quite saw it,
But oh well no one but you is competent

So if,
Hypothetically,
I have lost myself
(If so it’d be due to you erasing my identity),
Maybe instead of trying to find me, then,
Allow me to find myself, fix my own mistakes,
Figure out for myself what it takes
To live life without a helicopter, blades cutting my neck,
Burdening my shoulder.

Leave me alone,
I won’t call if I need help

I’d rather it not end

The end is just the beginning.

We try our best to dream, twisting our necks around towards the sound of clapping hands, sparks flying from their lagging souls. Sparking laughter and admiration, blurry faces in the crowd, they blur out the sound of the ending that blends into the opening. Act on your wishes and don’t let them be drowned out by the beat of another’s heart, screaming at your eyes for wandering much too far. There’s no denying who you are. They can’t deny you from afar.

We explore new territory even when they blot out our eyes, feel our way through because they can’t blot out our mind, blot out our drive. Touch the surface of the desk, the cup that holds our fantasies, the soft blankets of our safe nest, the one they can’t take away from us. We smile because who else could tell us what to feel now? I mean, we’re not tied down.

So then let the story begin and don’t fear when it ends
because the end is the beginning of the beginning to a new end.

Of Course, Darling

Over and over and over and over,
Continuing the agony, burning the feeling into her hands,
Disconnected from her soul, that sour taste on her nails,

Opaque eyes, glazed over but in systematic motion,
Cracked lips, dry smile, always there at the turn,
Done but it’s not over, over, over, over,

Over, over, over, over,
Cringing at the angle of the rip in her heart,
Dancing around the edges, torn all apart,

On and off, lights of her mind,
Crackling with fire, the fire that went dark,

Dangling by a thread, all worn down, split into pieces,

Ought to stop now…
Can’t do it just yet,
Done – almost there – stopping – can’t – getting there – tiring bones out