oh my god i feel so fucking sick in the head. please, give me all the matches i need to watch myself burn, i need the atonement. i know ive done wrong, but im such a coward, i need to control my punishment. let me hurt myself the way that feels best, the way i know already. it's because im a coward, i can't stand to be hurt by others, i can't stand it, so ill do it myself, before they do it, so i can be the one in control, so im ready for it. what a coward i am. i hate myself.
I miss you the way the sand misses the ocean when the tide is out, and with an aching longing.
My time in your arms is fleeting, measured, I know you must leave me again and again. Again and again you will come back, but still, it does not make the separation any easier.
I curse the cold moon who tears us apart, and brings us back together.
~getting inspired~
A couple of nights ago, my sister and I were driving home from picking up a pizza. It was a dark and rainy night, and as we passed the high school track, I saw a car parked right up next to the closed gate. There was a tall figure, leaned up against the fencing, only illuminated by a streetlamp. He was staring out onto the total darkness of the track, all alone.
I think I understood him, or at least I might have understood why.
Last spring was a hard time for me, sometimes it would become too loud, too overpowering. When that happened, I would rush out to my mother's car, often quite late at night, and I would drive out to the museum. Of course, the museum would always be closed, the streets dark and empty, and I usually didn't even stay very long. But it was my quiet place. It was safe, and alone, and calm.
I too pray to a dark and quiet God, who would never be found in a church. Only a beaten high school track, or a deserted museum parking lot.
Something about the emptiness of the night makes me feel full, like I can finally stretch my legs, as if I finally have room to grow to full size. I can at last see things clearly and wholly.
I feel very powerful, strong.
Only in these moments of quiet clarity, do I feel this silent and pure God. He is safe and unspeaking, he understands. He listens, though he already knows. He is not good, not evil, but he provides me rest when things are bad.
maybe in the same way i'll never get through to him, you'll never get through to me. i wish things were different, i tired to make them be. but i'm frozen here, waiting for him. please don't wait for me.
im never gonna get through to you.
a part of me knows this now, just as it knew all those years ago.
why do i still stick around
It's two o'nine a.m.
The grey feels numb.
Staring into the sky,
I think grey is a better color for emptiness.
It stares back with vacant eyes.
#insomia#poetry#grey aesthetic#tired#writers on tumblr#writer#poems on tumblr#poetic#poem#text post#love poem#sad post#sad poetry#meloncholy#color poem#color palette#colors#colour#pretty colors#sad content#storm#sad#old souls#spilled ink#spilled thoughts#spilled words#i cant sleep#cant sleep#empty#i feel numb
poetry was created because there was never any other way to decribe you.
tonight,
feels like the perfect night,
for sweaters,
and some whiskey,
on a rooftop,
with you.