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Memoir of the ShowerFor the first time in days
the world around me is quiet.
Harsh sounds muffled,
Lights that once seemed too bright
now hide in shadows,
casting flickering shapes against dark walls.
Warmth consumes me,
cupping the cold in it's hands and breathing gentle life
in it's hateful essence,
banishing the tremors that contort and throw my body about.
Water trickles along my naked body,
down my broken back,
between my trembling thighs.
I find myself lost in the silence,
a t a
p a p
of water against cold porcelain.
Steam swirls around my dripping fingers,
droplets cling to my lashes,
drip into tired eyes.
Peace is finally mine.
Midnight LoversThe worst feeling ever felt
is being in love
with nothing more than an image of a face,
a gentle memory of a voice that goes with it-
While endless nights spent reaching out and stretching,
to hold onto that subtle image,
that fading memory,
until there is nothing but a trail of smoke
lingering between your stiff, broken fingers,
a reminiscence of nights long since passed,
a nostalgic breathe of cold night air
between parched dry lips.
A beautifully broken memory
of loving lips against soft skin.
Fingers running through silk like hair,
whispers in your ear of promises for tomorrow
and life long dreams to come true.
Eyes so full of life,
heart so eager to take them by storm,
to run into the darkest corners of the world
and face the unknown with bold intentions.
To live life with no fear.
To breath in cold night air.
To love a lover lost,
to the darkest corners of the world.
Killing Me With EmptinessMy nights start with the unrelenting need
to feel your hands across my body,
to feel your breath in my hair,
to feel your whispers against my skin.
Of course I'm granted nothing but words printed on a screen
looked upon with tired,
Eyes that are drooping closed with need for sleep.
Though being the persistent person I am
I kindly tell sleep to fuck the hell off
and let me get my fill of the words being printed across
a tiny glowing screen
by invisible fingers.
My mornings start with the first essential need
of flicking on a too bright screen,
blinding myself in pathetic search of an awaiting message
that is never there.
A long shower is spent
contemplating why there is no waiting message,
why there is never a waiting message,
why there will never be a waiting message.
is spent encouraging myself not to make the first
and overly pathetic first move.
Courage is built up,
restraint is compiled.
All is as it sho
Beautiful Tired EyesDon't you hide your tired eyes from me,
they're my latest fad,
my newest addiction;
so full of truths untold,
nights spent restless,
days gone by.
Don't you bother to cover them up
I can't see the deep purple shadows,
the beautiful depth of life spent
with eyes wide open,
and sleep left to the dreamers.
You are a believer,
a take no shit doer.
You travel through pages,
with your tired eyes,
and yet you do not rest.
There is too much to see in this world,
and sleep is saved
for the dead.
DeathDeath is quiet,
a heavy blanket in the air,
a suffocating reminder
of what will never once more
An empty chair,
an empty bed,
a silent morning.
Nights are no longer filled
with gentle whispers
of one more goodnight kiss.
Pillows are no longer warmed
with the gentle hush of your breath.
No longer are the sheets filled
with the warmth of your still body.
Alarm clocks ring shrilly
with no hand to quiet it.
So I do it.
The kitchen is cold and dark;
Coffee does not wait
in anticipation of tired lips.
So I make it.
A jacket is flung carelessly
over the back of a chair.
Keys are tossed in front of it there.
So I pick it up.
I hold it to my face.
I breathe in your smell,
the last bits of your existence.
I breathe in your last moments,
the color of your eyes,
the smile you shared.
I breathe in the last "I love you",
the last kiss,
the last goodbye,
the last moments
before you died.
Killing me SoftlyTrue torment
is needing to walk away
but knowing he wants you to stay,
needs you to stay,
wills you to stay.
And so you stay.
True pain is acknowledging your defeat
welcoming the final end,
but turning around to hear,
"I missed you,"
and feeling warm arms wrap around you
for the first time,
knowing it wouldn't be gifted with sex
and lust later in thanks.
And so you hold on in anticipation
of that next embrace.
is knowing you want to die,
you don't have that right.
Knowing that you are nothing more
than a broken term,
an over used phrased,
a meaningless word.
is the bottom of the end,
the mass blocking the sun,
the tear in my heart,
the screams in my head,
the blood on my hands.
Depression holds the knife.
Depression hands me the gun.
Depression pops the pills.
kills for the thrills.
338 Days Since You LeftEleven months, three days,
since we said our last words.
I've spent waiting for your next word.
But who's counting.
Surely not the nights,
that I lay in wake
searching for those invisible hands
that once drew words from empty air,
to fill my empty heart.
I've spent perfecting the right way to say
and, "It's good to see you again,"
without first falling apart
in anticipation for your return;
a day that has since not come.
A day that has been slowly draining my heart
of all the words
you once drew for me.
But who's counting..
Surely not the little girl,
struggling through a life of rejection
and typed words on a screen
from invisible hands.
Because that little girl grew up.
That little girl struggled on.
And with each passing day
that little girl
died away just a little more everyday.
Until there was nothing left
but a b
When the Caged Bird SingsWhen he touches me,
I no longer see the cover model on a magazine,
that I will never be.
I see the beauty of a touch
from someone so loving.
When he kisses my naked skin,
I forget the imperfections,
the fears of body image,
the need to be delicately thin;
the fears that imprison my mind.
When he kisses my naked skin,
for the first time,
beautiful in my minds mirror.
I wonder if he notices
when I kiss his sharp bones,
how I ache for those to be my own.
Hips so defined,
you can cup them in your hands.
Collarbone’s so deep,
you could sip wine from them.
Body so beautiful,
you could lose yourself
with a single touch.
I wonder if he knows my pain,
will ever know the pain,
of being stared at,
standing beside a man so beautiful.
Stares that wrap around my throat,
pulling that rope tighter, pulling me higher.
leaving me to dangle helpless.
But every time he does something so amazing.
He cuts me down.
He saves me.
And he catches me in a blanket of impassionedly stitc
Hypnophobia- A Fear to Sleep, a Fear to DreamNight falls,
creeping steady across my floor.
Shadows call out of me,
reaching, slithering, waiting for me.
The night hisses and coos,
screeches and yearns,
aches for the moment it can consume
my tired sleeping body.
Night becomes war.
Day becomes rescue.
Rescue brings peace,
but not until
the night takes hold my heart,
ripping it from my throat,
grasping it in it's hands and whispering to me,
'Goodnight, sleep tight.'
and takes hold my restless mind.
The typewriter in my mind won't stop it's continuous
tap tap tap
bringing life to monsters I only ever dreamt of.
The monsters hiding in my sleep.
The monsters hiding in my dreams.
The monsters hiding in the dark.
I'm so desperate for it to stop,
aching for a moment of peace,
for a night of sleep.
But my hynophobia takes away
all my precious dreams.
A visit to TomWell, my friend...
You made it -
upon your grave -
in the fridge
us year round
or is it just
in our hearts.
in the night...
it will be
Judgementi sat there and watched you with
tears prickling my
but i dared not to cry
not with them looking right at
their eyes showed a horrible judgment
that seemed to swallow me
the darkness of the aura
around them sucked
oh god i hated them.
the first man questioned you
he didn't care what happened to
he wanted this to be over
his words were at a drone
he filed the papers before him
as if he had nothing
better to do
i know what he thought of
i clenched my fists
i wouldn't hold anyone’s hand
as i watched this unfold.
the woman cared
she cared about what happened
she knew what she wanted
her tone was that of a
mother who's child
she wanted the truth
but she wouldn't believe
the one we gave her
it was plain to see
i gritted my teeth
i wanted to scream but that
wouldn't help anything.
the last man wanted to get
the truth out of you
his eyes were not kind
but his words were und
The Mountains of SnowI lost my love to the mountains of snow
once he came up, he never returned.
stories spread across the Town,
three poor souls, never to be found.
a sharpened shovel , lit fire
starved Wolves, and A set wire.
my love waS found, beaten and marred,
his face indistinguishable and charred.
i lost my loves to the Mountains of snow
once they came up, thEy never returned.
ScreamSo I'll stand and yell it to the ceiling
to celebrate the fact that i'm alive and breathing.
I'll take your hand to try and share this feeling.
The only thing I can do is stand and scream.
"I still fucking love you."
And hope it starts the healing.
A Deaf Poet"A Deaf Poet"
By: Ulrich J S Edelstein
+Not being able to hear
The sounds of morning or night,
Not being able to appear
On stage in the spot light.
+Sadness being brought upon him,
As he can't hear the music vibrating in his ears.
All the love for the sounds of life grow dim
And stirring inside his mind, all of his fears.
+He won't be able to hear all those precious tones
Of their dear voices.
Feeling as if all he has to depend on is his weak bones,
To keep him moving forward with all these little choices.
+The wind blows heavily and the thunder roars ferociously,
But he doesn't notice.
Except the rain pouring outside, he awaiting cautiously
For the crackling lightning to strike, rather hopeless.
+He won't hear your breath against his neck,
Nor the beating of his own heart.
The emptiness he already had, t'was just a speck,
But it had grown and his warmness shall depart.
+His pain is loosening, breaking free
Of his mind, letting lose all the insanity
That he has sealed up inside
Because.Because thank you isn't enough
because I'm Sorry won't solve a thing.
Because I'm too short
or too tall
or too skinny
or too fat.
Because it just doesn't work that way
because somethings can't be changed
Because when you
spend a lot of time
writing the word
on a sheet of
white lined paper
you just begin to realize things.
Because saying 'because'
won't help you in life.
Because you just have to do it.
Because you just need to get up.
Because you just got to go somewhere.
Because we should stop doubting ourselves and
because we should only try our best.
Because life is too short.
By: Ulrich J S Edelstein
-My thoughts alter
Of each passing day.
They never stay identical.
-At a single moment
They could be cordial, charming, or gratifying.
Then they could alter drastically
Into thoughts of outrageous things.
-They could go from endearing, delightful and virtuous,
To homicidal and barbaric.
Thoughts of inspiration and aspiration,
To murderous and torturous plotting.
-I could think that I like someone,
Thinking they are full of elegance, charm, and intensity,
To insufferable, ghastly beings of this Earth.
Drastically altering my mood along with my thoughts.
-All is well at one moment,
And then all is heart breaking at another.
Becoming aware no one really cares.
People who are supposed to support you, disrespect you immensely.
-My thoughts alter when I fall and no one is there for me to lean on.
I think that they are caring people,
Then disrespectful, low pieces of debris
That animals urinate all over.
-My thoughts alter all the time.
Wolf in sheep's clothingWe create our own demons
Provide the sparks for our own madness
We sacrifice TRUTH for IDEALS...
And at times IDEALS for TRUTH...
..or perhaps unnaturally...
Are we sane?
Or are we simply victims of a delusion that we've so desperately wanted to be fact
Life is CHAOS...
Because it's unending...
Because it's unchanging...
..It is ORDER.
It has become the norm of our lives
It's a wound in the lives of all who are still breathing
Rise up and disrupt the natural order of this world...
Create some TRUE CHAOS...
Make this world better...
You wolves in sheep's clothing..
You SHEEP in WOLVES' clothing...
Don't throw your soul away...
Don't become savage...
Don't lose your gentleness...
Don't lose you
I Hope. I Wish. I Dream."I Hope. I Wish. I Dream."
By: Ulrich J S Edelstein
+When I'm at home,
Surrounded by the soft, low sounds of music,
I can't help but feel lonely & empty..
All the sparks have left my soul,
Along with everything else it seems.
+I desperately want someone
In my life to help me get better,
And to be there for me always.
Who ever that may end up to be,
I want to cherish them forever.
+And I wish to be by his/her side each passing day.
My only dream is to have everlasting happiness
Til the rest of my days
With that one soul other than my own..
I hope. I wish. I dream.
Sometimes It Lasts in Love. Sometimes.I wish I could write something that would change the way you look at me,
the way you think of me,
the way you thought of me,
the way you knew me.
I wish I could write something to erase my memory of you,
all those sweet kisses,
all those foul words,
all those late nights of tears,
I wish I could write something that would make you see me,
listen to me,
look at me,
I wish I could write something that would make you turn around,
come back to me,
say you'll stay with me,
make you want me.
I wish I could write something that would make time stop,
time fast forward,
time fade away.
I wish I could write something that would make you come back.
But they're just words printed in black and white.
They can't change what happened,
what is to happened,
and why it happened to us.
I wish I could.
But I know I never will.
Red Letter Day - Prologue
So here I am, writing.
I’m writing, I’m writing – just as you told me to.
I’m writing, I’m writing, I’m writing.
Have you ever noticed that when the sun goes down, this flat changes? It does. The walls are white during the day and lingering brown at night. During the day, I’m with you and the light from outside paints the walls that heavenly color. But when that sun goes down, the demons wake and I’m alone again, even though you’re just a room away.
Somehow it seems less threatening tonight, and I think it’s because you’ve given me an assignment to try and fight off the darkness. You gave me a stack of papers and a pen and told me to write everything that comes to mind.
It’s a strange feeling to have complete freedom. These empty pages are mine to do whatever I please – I could even wipe my ass with them – but they’re also terribly intimidating. The blank page has always been a nemesis of man. It&
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