Let Me In

You tell me one thing
But your words betray you.
My head is spinning,
I’d rather hear the truth.
I’d rather know what your heart is saying.
I need to know,
Because mine is aching.

I know Nothing’s easy or simple.
It’s not like I expect it all
To fall neatly into place.
I don’t expect anything actually
Because I can’t.
I can’t expect my words to help you,
I can’t expect an answer from you.

But trust me to know
What I am feeling.
Trust me to know
What I can deal with.
Trust me to know
That our worlds won’t crumble
If you let me in.

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Afraid To Tell You…

Alrighty. Normally I wait a fair bit of time between posts or I procrastinate and don’t get anything finished for several weeks. But two posts in two days!!! Yippee!!! I’ve been having a bit of writers block lately and everything that’s been posted has been laborious, still good, but hard to get out. This just wrote itself because I decided feeling the way I do right now is perfectly alright and writing something sappy about it is too! So without further a do…

Afraid To Tell You

You leave me seeing spots
Like the kind of blurry star scape
That you see after rubbing your eyes for too long
I’m left dumfounded
Half blinded and nauseated
From the falling and rising
Butterflies working their way up
From my stomach to my mind
Making sure they stop awhile in my throat
To help me choke on my words
I’m unable to contemplate or communicate
Let alone compensate for
My momentary lapse in mental capability
I’ve never before experienced
This type of overwhelming inability
To express my emotions
Generally I’m reserved
Even a bit introverted
But I’ve always been able
To speak my mind and
Let my inner thoughts fly free
Forming whatever I need to say
But with you I just sit here
Conversation seemingly flowing easily
But my confidence thrown back to middle school
Unable to say exactly what I want to
Tongue tied, bleary eyed
A slightly foggy mind
Thinking about your smile
All the while afraid to tell you…

On Paper

On paper
A verbal representation
Of ragged, rusty, razor blade
Cuts, running deep in
Fresh white silk
Giving way to
Crimson, fever, frantic
Burning, bubbling up
Like magma unable hold back
Slowly taking over everything
All encompassing, erasing
Reflections, dust coated
By snow being shovelled
With that same rusty blade
Deep grooves now forming
And being swept up,
With a breath in,
Inhaling the sinful
Lust of selfish thoughts
Destruction of self
Destructive, denial
Withholding what may
Be helpful in ending
The midnight massacre
Head, hung, helpless
Over blank, salt water
Soaked pages, begging
The absence of their appearance
If only to save
The one holding the
Self loathing and pen in hand
Putting down the
Last, logical, option
On paper.

Earlier this week I wrote something way more lighthearted than I felt. And that was going to be my next post. Well tonight I finally let some pent up emotions out and this is the result. I think it may be the darkest thing I’ve posted on here and that makes me a bit nervous. But it just feels a lot more right for right now. So viola.

It’s just a process.

There’s always a pull from somewhere inside me. When it’s dark enough, quiet enough, and I’m alone with my eccentricities; that’s when I feel it. Or rather, that’s when I hear it. A cacophony of madness, bedlam in its truest form. Calling me out. Taunting me haughtily, noxious and begrudging me my peace. “Do something. ” it says. “Do something!” it screams. “Do something!” it begs. Alluring, intoxicating, it flutters around my consciousness coercing my mind to express all I muse. Terrifying and liberating all at the same time. To this I succumb. Toiling until I’m exhausted. The result, ramblings, rants and ravings. Poetic pros and dark plots. Worlds and people that exist only in my mind. In the end it’s just a process.