fragments

a poem game i played with a friend. i took out theirs and just left mine in so thats why its fragmented and might not make sense. these are really old so theyre probably horrible.

like a shadow on the wall, i mean nothing i am nothing, and only those with stars in their eyes find me beautiful.

i hear them in the clicking of my heels, the snap of my neck. when the poison infects the bone there is no going back.

as darkness seeps into my skin the questions run through my mind. what makes people believe? what makes their hearts beat faster? like a missing puzzle piece, the words die on my lips.

ike standing on the fence, the monsters pull, the angels call, even though its hurting at least its something.

in a dying world, it was all i had. this broken dream filled with all the words i cant remember. i could once pull the diamonds from my mouth but now my tongue is laced with ice and ash.

the world embraces the rushing waters and they fall away from me. while i am killing myself swimming up the current trying to get back but i go no where. the messages in the bottles float right passed me. ill never know what they were trying to tell me.

ive hitched myself to a falling star; second star to the right and straight on till morning. you lied to me you lied to me. the foul thoughts still ate my soul and the world still holds me prisoner. i thought i wasnt eve. you told me just one bite. an apple so sweet, the well of all poison.

m at a loss. how can i keep myself alive when i live to run, to feel the wind and feel the ache in my legs; feel the rush, the high- but it makes it that much harder. faster faster. every time i have to run faster to beat myself, to catch the dream. maybe if i run fast enough i will melt into the wind and dissipate into a beautiful nothing; a beautiful everything. breath in. find peace.

you feel whole, and you feel love; the overwhelming over flowing of everything and nothing. make a space to fill you up. break your bones to feel the pain. hide to see if anyone will come looking. drink the poison bc it was in the pretty vile. hold it all together with the flimsy veins of all your broken hearts.

when try to think of it all i can see is something like a butterfly. glassy wings and a crystal cage. a misty view and teardrop rain. if i could drown in it i would, but its not enough so i swallow it whole and breathe it in so at least i can say i tried.

a broken harbor in your mind; a message sent through the nothingness. spiderweb lace spun around your neck; it eats you alive and becomes all you can breath- the lovely infection and your only dream to die by it's velvet black finger tips.

Editing old stuff

“Run”


A hitch-

A crack-

A sonic boom:

The speed of sound.

You are running.

You run because it is what you are good at; you are fast. You run because it is who you are; because you always have. Speed has saved you from the most impossible situations; saved you from death. But what you are running from now is far worse than death and all the more inescapable.

You know it is inevitable, but you run anyway. It is the only thing you know how to do.

You've found years and years of being a hero is like years and years of building up calluses, tearing your touch receptors to shreds. And eventually when you are cut you will only notice it when you see those thick oozing drops of crimson slip down the side of your leg.

You are the ever cheery hero; unfazed and always ready for the unexpected. You are unaware of pain; you are unaware of sorrow. But you know it’s all a lie.

You can’t quite recall the exact moment it happened nor how- but you slowly came to find praise seemed empty, smiles felt forced, and you felt sharp pains when you tried to laugh. You started catching yourself doing things you never have before; like counting all the lost ones- the ones you couldn’t save.

When you cry the violent sobs are not the healing kind, slowly inviting the calm with every gasp. It is the empty kind- the kind that makes you wonder if someone upstairs made a boo-boo; if your time on this earth has been overspent. But you can’t leave; not when so many are depending on you.

And that is why you now run.

You run from feeling. You run from memories. You run from yourself.

You are weak.

And you know it.

END.


an emo sonic story i wrote back in high school. i edited it and hopefully made it better? just dabbling in character psyche. nothing big.