A Darker Door

27 posts1, 2
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splinters

it would seem that I have landed on the ground
hard enough to understand,
that breaking an eggshell hurts
a whole lot more than it ought to.




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-poem segment-

she saw life through the frame of a broken picture
buried in the ashes of her sister.
And life was an empty box;
with nothing to hold and nothing to gain so she
sets her heart inside;
watching it crumble as she cries.




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started

I have a habit of,
not finishing what
I have




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drop

clasped hands in a cold chain
of repetitive loneliness

Broken mirrors on the grass;
empty eyes and silent things
do you see what I see?

cast away slightly but
cast away still.
No harsh words to scorn just

clasped hands in the cold rain
and distantly something less.




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123

I am expected
to leave but also to miss,
you. But why should I?




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hinges

chalk scratches on brick walls;
they say this is a broken city.
Then I suppose I must live among the dead.




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sheer idiocy

sometimes I hate my house
like when I cannot put down a jug of water
without the world exploding.




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Points 451
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Perhaps

I did not break in public
I did not share my secrets
I did not push them away
I did not hold onto them

But there are times when I think that perhaps
perhaps I should have.




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Memoires of an Empath

When you hear the screams inside the minds of those who believe none can hear them,

The world is a dark, dark place.

But this is also the world where their unsung joy flows through your veins

and it is also beautiful.




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red

when eyes refuse to see
what's pouring from their lips.
The cold remains of lives
cut to pieces with their tongues
Still on the ceiling drips.




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Watching

at times I feel as if I am outside the world
and looking in.
but then the window breaks.




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The most important service rendered by the press and the magazines is that of educating people to approach printed matter with distrust.
— Samuel Butler