.Please Believe Me Just This Once.

I swear this time I really
can’t deal with this right
now.

really.

.Day To Day.

I’m falling apart.
slowly,
incrementally,
but crumbling all
the same.

And I’m remarkably calm
about it.

.One Summer’s Eve.

Your sentence: “I spooned with a mongoose that Summer’s eve.”

I hated the city the
lights and the noise.
this ‘party’ was just as bad.
decadent people flaunting
their failings drinking champagne 
and sin on the rocks, stirred not
shaken.

So I left.
crawled under the barbed wire 
fence creeped across the immaculate
lawn to the wild trees that stood warningly
in the distance.
the wild. something best not kept in 
polite conversation.

I’ve never been very polite.
The woods welcomed me like it
always does the animals unafraid of
the tiny creature in silk and satin that
barged in on their night once again.
And I dreamed.

I spooned with a mongoose that Summer’s 
eve and watch a pair of rabbits fight while
bats spun nests out of the cobwebs in my
hair, left them there for the moths and fireflies
that came out to join our company when the
sun had finally sunk and any danger of being
disturbed was long gone.
For one hot summer eve, somewhere, I belonged.

.Freeing.

I am shattered
I am broken
pieces of me left
scattered on the ground.
I am wounded
I am falling
nothing left to hold me down.

do you know what it’s like to
feel so in the dark
to be lost within a crowd?
do you know what it’s like when they
turn all the lights off
and no one seems to ever be around.

I am lost and 
I am trembling
it’s so hard to find the world.
I am alone I am
freeing
people thoughts to take
control,
over it.
over us.
over all the worlds and dust.
over you.
and over me.
over all they cannot see

but I do.

.Coping.

How can I deal with all these emotions, these feelings that just keep filling me, until I feel like I’m drowning in them, and I just can’t fucking breathe, so I push them away until it doesn’t hurt anymore. Then I have to deal with the emptiness, this hole in my head, that everything seems to fall though, until I’m falling through too, and I just get so scared.
I’m scared I’ll never stop falling. 
I’m scared I won’t wake up.
I can’t decide which is worse, drowning in all these needs, these desires and reactions, or suffocating slowly in their absence.
I always wanted to drown when I died. It seemed a beautiful way to go, falsly luring with the quiet, and the calm, except when the noise is inside your head you can’t make it go away so easily, and the pain just gets louder and your lungs clench, and all you can feel is afraid.

Even the peace of death is out of reach to me.

.How Far Into The Darkness Are We?

how many miles from home are we?
how far until we’re free?
gone are the candles that lit our way
away from dark and shadows deep
away from the fear which towards us creeps.
how many miles from home are we?
and can we get there today?

spin off of How Many Miles To Babylon.

Follow This Dude!

myownknight:

Previously I’ve featured poems written by a good friend, under the names ‘Juranus’ and ‘Falconer’, including Stars Of Legend, Kiss The Stars, Welcome To Disturbia, and Riders Legacy. Anyway, he finally found the time to start his own tumblr, and he’s starting with some promising looking Skyrim Fanfic, so go follow him! 

http://juranas.tumblr.com/

.Country Music In A Pop Rock Age.

country music isn’t about hill
billy’s and old
trucks for me.
Country music is a
bout home.
Is about leaving
it, and coming back to it. It’s about
looking for it, and finding it, and
having someone become
it. Its about breaking it. And
fixing it.
And missing it, and hating it, and
always finding your way back
to it.