despondency

Cycle of Contempt

The glossy pink, drips between the slow decay
Glistening in the light, translucent to the eye
A warmth, humming just beneath the surface
All the while creeping, gradually cracking
Rising to the surface in a multitude of disdain
It’s cascade of vitriol spewing from the mouth
of innocent fissures
Clambering, grasping, gulping for air
as the cool oblivion drones on.
Unaware,
Apathetic,
Empty
A barren slate on which to start anew
To scratch the hollows of tedium
Furrow the violence
And bury the coruscation
Once more.

Unfinished sentence

There is a cavern – which lies
Cold and dirty in raw eyes
Crammed full of agony
Swarming with a sadness
Wine leaking from irises
Droplets that travel
Creeping between lips
Salted, solitary, searching
For something

Something which once existed
Fair and innocent
Something that now lies
Battered and broken
At the bottom of a lake
Starved of oxygen
of care
Decaying organs of rot
Once dishevelled and abandoned
Then lost
Never to be found again

This is really how I wonder..

Ramble of consciousness

Have you ever been lost?

Not lost as in geographically, not lost in a place, not physically lost….just lost.

Someplace that your mind takes you into a world of confusion, of disappointment of fear even. Lost in a time and space that you  feel is not your own, not viable for what you need, and you are alone.
So alone and you can’t pin point why, or how or when you ever reached this point…you only know that you got here..

somehow.

And that now you can’t leave.

You might not actually be alone, you might not be scared, maybe you have come to accept the little hollow that is your own, come to terms with despondency, the lack of enthusiasm, lack of care. You might have just found yourself trekking along the path of least resistance, happily humming the solo theme tune. You might well even be humming it whilst walking alongside someone, but they are not really with you, you are not really there,

You are but a shell of something you once were, and could be. A dim light in a sea of shimmering morsels ready to be plucked one by one, ready for the taking. Yet you amble on, happy to breathe, happy to survive as long as you don’t have to feel. The numbness that courses through your veins anesthetising your soul and caging your desires, your passion, your worth.
Every now and then you might feel a peck, a small glimmer of being that gives you hope, makes you feel alive and ready to tear down the walls. Yet all too soon you are packed up again and ready to retract. To shut the doors on the world and carry on smiling that fake smile because that is what gets you through…that is the you that they adore.

The only one that they accept.

My beautiful picture

The Night Visitant

Revisiting an older post tonight seems inevitable

Ginni bites!

The delicate tapping and flicker of shadow

I feel your presence before you slide into view

A slight blur of darkness against the light

The soft clunk 

Clunk

As you scrabble to gain purchase on a hardened exterior.

For a small time, I watch you. Taking in

Your mesmerising existence, the passion which fuels you,

 the persistence which forces you continue.

To strive towards a goal so out of reach and beyond your control.

I feel bad for you that you don’t seem to understand

Don’t seem to grasp the futility of it all

Or maybe you do 

You might just be optimistic

Or stubborn

Or stupid.

Regardless…… I close the curtains on you and turn off the light.

Now it is I who lies in the futile dark.

 

 

 

 

 

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Crimson Placebo

The thin slice

Popping release

Crimson beauty

Rising to the surface

Unadulterated release

Hurt. Despondency.Rage

All coagulated together

A sticky exquisite streak

Glistening in candlelight

Warm cherry droplets

Falling to freedom

Bringing relief

Giving comfort

Inner peace.