I longed for the hands I now hold,
as they reached out to the water
while I was floating by,
the tides pulling me back
into the chasm of mind;
Cavities opened in my heart;
became the perfect sanctuary
for weary psyches such as ours.
Submerge with me and rest awhile;
Let us rock to the sound of the bass,
an exclusive lullaby, enveloping us,
and giving new meaning
to surround sound.
These chains that bind me
are the same that keep me
from falling toward the ground
like a tornado playing catch
with debris.
There is destruction when
the sky descends from a
hell mistaken for heaven;
Inverted weather will always
lie in wake, waiting for the
moment the lock
becomes brittle from rust,
metal splitting easily against
the pressure of chaos
attempting to break free.
I have tan lines where your arms
were wrapped around me
near the ocean, salty and flowing,
waves crashing against the rocks
below this hill we’ve climbed
to watch the jagged edges of stone
sanded down, softened by the
intensity of the passion in the water.
I drink nectar from flowers,
wings flutter fast, a hummingbird
preying among the vultures,
outweighed, though, they cannot
begin to compare to my ambition.
Determination a fuel for a fight
that I will drop my bundle for,
if it means your immunity
is guaranteed.
Sucked into the void before,
But nothing like the dissonance I’ve found
In the chamber of a hollow skull.
Borrowed the mind of a gardener
just for the solace following
the thorns amongst the flowerbeds;
A means of creation;
To splatter dye on the thoughts
for which I was never the artist,
but ever so desperately wanted to be.
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I’m crushing pills between rotted teeth,
gums bleeding from the stems of roses,
Countering the stench of self-infliction;
Puckered lips from lemon drops,
Its sour breath fogs the windows
as I ride along with impulsive behaviors;
I hopped this train to madness,
I will take the ride until I am discovered,
and thrown in the snow
atop this mountain I rolled myself into.
Check out my book, Penny Poetry, available on Amazon!
Sometimes it’s not about me;
It is about the need to feel secure as young;
To live without the noise that deafened fragile ears;
It is about striving for comfort in the innocence
That was ripped from my hands
when I was too small to reach for it back.
Check out my book, Penny Poetry, available on Amazon!
These words no longer feel as though they belong to me.
I used to hold them in the palm of my hand, offering a full view to the crowd.
There used to be eagerness in my voice
as I laid out the hand I’d dealt;
A cheat to the rules of the game;
I enforced a personal ban
and offered my position to one who protests none
to a game twisted in favor of the one in control.
Check out my book, Penny Poetry, available on Amazon!
Embracing the feeling of the devil’s fingertips
tracing a homicidal outline on my sensitive skin,
singing the flesh off the bone;
A guttural noise escapes
the bottom of my throat,
I welcome the pain;
find pleasure in the torture, even.
No questions or doubt;
They say home is where you belong,
and I have come prepared with luggage.
Expectant of the torment
I’ve been sentenced;
Warnings are unnecessary;
a precaution in the contract from the King.
This is where I’m destined to fall.
Check out my book, Penny Poetry, available on Amazon!
Sweat lingers a while,
seeping through rumpled sheets
to remind you that you can still feel-
Fingers lingered longer than a butterfly
can flap its wings without falling tired;
A soft buzz, mistaken for the hummingbird;
an aggressive display of the effect of the sound
from the voice of a goddess wrapped in silk-
An airy whisper against your ears,
honey flows down your spine,
and you feel as though this is..
This is the gratification in the mind,
satisfaction to a body that responds
to the tickle of these melodies.
Check out my book, Penny Poetry, available on Amazon
Marysa Writes 