New Poets Corner - Tumblr Posts

1 year ago

It’s starting to feel the same again..

Like a tightness in my bones that threatens to snap them if I move just one more inch.

Like a pressure forcing me down into the bed, sinking me slowly, ready to suffocate me at another breath.

Like these words are lodged in my throat, choking what little life I had left out of me and my hands are too numb to pull them out.

Like the person down on one knee in front of me is offering far worse than a ring and the damage is irreversible.

What do I do when it starts to feel the same again?

S.Lilobell (Save me from this eternity.)


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1 year ago

Where are you?

You were everywhere All over my mind, soul and heart.

The shining sky, The warmth of my coffee, The melody of the ocean, The blankets whom used comfort me, It all feels foreign.

Even my words, making me a fool. My pen falling from my hands, It was not the moon, sky, ocean or even my books; my legacy. It was you, my muse.

In the radiating gleam of the moon, There you stand breathtakingly. Occupying my mind, Blurring my thoughts.

-Hydra Lowe


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1 year ago

Yalnızlığımı sayfalara doldurdum

Kaçıyordum her şeyden Yalnızlığımdan, İsteklerimden, Hayalleriminden, Eleştirilerden, Bakışlarından, En çokta o acı gerçeklerden; Hayatımı her gün zehreden, Beni mutsuzluk dolu bir geleceğe iten, Hayallerimin karşısında nutkunun tutulduğu, Bunaltıcı sorularımın üzücü cevaplarını benliğinde saklayan o gerçekler

Neden hayallerim yetmedi? Niçin uzaklaşamadım onlardan? Sadece uzaklaşıp mutlu olmak istedim Kabullendim de, denedim Acısa da denedim Ama… her kabullenişim sadece yastığımın duyduğu hıkçırıklarla bitti

-Hydra Lowe


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8 years ago

the bus

Doleful faces at the bus stop. I was one of them. The clouds were vehemently spitting thick rain, smiting the cobblestones of the streets, and trickling down our wan faces. Drowsy, I closed my eyes and let the cadenced sound of the rain lull me to sleep. Alas, the bus of perdition came. I never dared to get out. 

© Margaux Emmanuel 


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8 years ago

watercolors

A failing heart is brushed with the dust of silence

a shadowed mind shudders at a patient blindness

an orphaned violence

the whistle of our thoughts trickle

drip

while I fill the crevices in the canvas

with the remaining paint of your dying lips

for no sane words can describe my heart

sailing these fugitive waves

too strong for art.

© Margaux Emmanuel 


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10 years ago

Accountability

Fuck you to death Mark Timmins You pleasureless bastard Go find a fucking king To die for Go find out What it means to truly love Stop hiding In the waiting The shadow That your well-crafted Cynicism casts Cannot shield your fragile heart From the burning bright light That pulsates From the unchallenged Pointlessness of existence Forever Get out there And fuck some shit up


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