Reblogs – Anonymously Hal & Penny Wilson

I realize that our struggles will affect us differently, but perhaps we keep in the back of our minds to not let the darkness color our hope. Of course, we can’t always control our biology by instinct alone. Do whatever it takes to find your peace.

Viridian by Anonymously Hal

I never settled on gray…  
 
I settled on viridian.  
 
I settled on a  
romanticized intensity  
seeped in tender  
sophistication,  
in hopes to cloak  
the darkness and  
cravings for desolation…

H.O.P.E. by Penny Wilson 

H.O.P.E. = Hold On. Pain Ends. 

Ugly Ways

pixabay.com

Silent deception
Confident chicanery
You smiling bastard

Hard hit to the heart
Foreign reality now
Weight of lies broke me

Forever altered
Gazillion hurt pieces
Difficult to breathe

Difficult to live
Struggling to survive in pain
Dark for a long time

Originally published 8/17/2018 on I Write Her.

Reblogs – N0tyetforgotten & Candice Louisa Daquin

What is the purpose of life if it hurts so many to live?

As time dwindles by N0tyetforgotten

Burning beneath times wick

A cesspool of options

Crippled by fear

Too long until the ends near

Fresh air but a mile away

Nothing and nobody is permanent, start the timer for their great escape

Anxiety cutting deep

Wounds unable to heal

How can something so beautiful be so grim?

Nothing Left to spare

A diamond in the rough, or a ruby coated disguised as bare?

Effortless wakes going beyond where the sun sets

Dawn breaks- alas the day sets again

Modern tides in a world so cruel

So little time, so much to do

Dreams are but figments of what could come true

Until next time,

Adieu

Thursday’s Child by Candice Louisa Daquin

Whatever you do

don’t feel sorry

things roll like flashing dice, casting fates

they do not require apology

she is the one on social media

who has no family

no one with the same last name

an orphan of surname

she pretends joining, thou her joins are frayed

there is a lock where her expectations meet

the silt and sloth of each long day

her heart spends most of its time

caring for others the way she wished

she were cared for

giving into a void, it can feel at times

like pouring water into sand and scooping it up

thirsty and forbidden to drink

her goal, to rectify through action

the irreducible inequity

we all suffer under

sometimes without blow

other times seemingly, beseiged

the wax and the wane

she used to believe love was the cure

for every malaise or grief of soul

but with time, even that slouched away

a disappointment within a broken egg shell

we choose scars we recognize

and sometimes they scald us

with their knowing …

one day when she dies

she will not be celebrated or recalled

never wanted commemoration but to

matter when she lived, no after life necessary

her ashes scattered by nobody in particular

to the wilds of the wind

where she will at last be free

to climb to climb to climb

Gone Down

Inspired by Sadje’s What do you see #147

i watched the sun
slowly fade away
and everything around me
began to take on a dark hue

i experienced a sinking feeling
my body caving in on itself
the depression dragging me down

i yelled into the void
but no one could hear me

i couldn’t save myself

Off

lost in this mental quagmire
feeling it in my bones
thoughts run to escape the myths
created in my head
questions thick with sinew
yet the answers are willowy 
should i pray
and light three candles
as the glum begins trickling in

my spirits growl 
hearing the hum of birds
wishing for peace
in a world unbalanced

Reblogs – Kristin Kory & Christine Bolton

Whether childhood trauma, devastating unexpected events, dysfunctional upbringing, or the daily grind wearing you down — rest, gather your inner strength, and begin anew. Continue on as who you were meant to be before life intervened.

Song of Flames by Kristin Kory

They tell you to follow the sun
as if night isn’t upon you
as if the shadows aren’t real

but night is still upon you

The thing in your mouth, copper hush
rage whispers
silence screams
until you sing your song of flames:

Let them come
Oh, let them rage
Let them find me in the shadows
Let them say my name
And quake

They tell you to let go
as if you’ve unpacked your pain
as if you’ve poured it into the earth

but hell still sits in a suitcase

The thing in your belly, it knows
the magic lies in the coming apart
in the middle of the wreck
in your every season
and every room
it waits

Hurt is hard to feel
but still the wound must speak
and speak it does
before you heal

They tell you to sit on the moon
keep fishing dark skies for stars
as if hope isn’t hanging by a thread of nostalgia
as if you didn’t notice the rage behind the flowers
before they were plucked from your garden

but his hands are still entangled in your hair

The thing in your center, it calls
little by little
in waves
it comes

Pull up a chair, sorrow says
out of body, slip
you will rebuild yourself
but first, rest

Inner Child by Christine Bolton

I live life now  
as my inner child  
She who lived in  
secret for so long  
Never allowed  
to come out and play  
Words tied to her  
tongue left unsaid  
Perceptions wrong  
every time  
Assumptions skewed  
Questions unasked  
Until finally freed  
Now her poetry  
tells the story  
of who I am now  
Unafraid and fearless  
Forever young 

Hopelessness

Redux

in the clutches of this mental sinkhole
forced effort my only ally
my day is silent
with only slow tears and exhaustion
the bed, my refuge
the external world feels so far removed
from inside my womb of despair
dark, alone, and unwell
i need to stop sinking
or eventually, i will float

Reblogs – Cassa Bassa & Tom Alexander

Pain buckles your inner state making recovery incredibly difficult. With every last bit of strength you have, choose to heal instead. Live again.

Dark Mood by Cassa Bassa

My thoughts
get stuck
in a thick tar swamp
knowing
that I am drowning
further below
but not quite
the end

Struggling is useless
Letting go is impossible
Tangled in poison syrup

In pitch dark night sky
all the stars
give up on me
They blink out
So
I settle in
being lost
dying alive
alone

Fracture, Fill by Tom Alexander

Break it like a bone
let it jut from torn skin
it’ll be raw and sore
then snap it back in

Fracture, fill
repair and grow

Through the ache
the growth seems subtle
Once it’s healed
that muscle gets supple

Fracture, fill
repair and grow

You can’t guess the extent
to which you’re capable
without some months spent
feeling utterly breakable

Fracture, fill
repair and grow…

Rising Published on MasticadoresUSA!

Life is hard; we all know this. But I always hope that each of us retains a bit of hope and strength to get through the bad times. I’m sure that most of the readers who visit here, know that about me. This piece, which I’m so happy that Gabriela Milton, Editor of MasticadoresUSA, has accepted for publication, speaks about the heaviness of days gone wrong and the determination in spite of it. Enjoy!

Rising

already exhausted upon awakening
the day begins anew

while the brain is slow
the body is even slower

what weighs me down
isn’t easily lifted…

Please read the rest of the piece at MasticadoresUSA