[airplane-in-a-bottle]

Crippling Creation

What a horridly stunning thing it is, To bring about essence where there was none. How wretchedly ravishing this love is, Delivered not of me but as me, shunned. I carved its foundations out of my bones; I emptied my lungs to fill it with air; I pleased it with the music of my moans; I shed my skin too to cloak it: I swear. I gave it my words so that it can learn; I gave it my drive so that it can thrive; I gave it my heart so that it can yearn; Then shattered my mind to bring it alive. I now cast up my soul; give it its sun, Then fall back in fright at the things I’ve done.

[airplane-in-a-bottle]

Daydreams

I live in your valleys of purple love,

With rivers golden with our sun’s decay.

We soar across the stormy skies, like doves,

But you keep me dry when you call my name.

A fallen leaf from a great willow tree;

It paints me green, so I almost looks blue.

It strikes me that if I have you, the sea,

I’ve naught more to gain, ev’rything to lose.

Don’t leave me in these plains, now barren, dear,

The rivers run black without your sunlight.

I’m lost in your ocean eyes when you’re here,

Just plain old lost when you’re not, through the night.

We’re sprawled out under rays of our last sun.

She brought fall with her, now it’s winter come.

[aurora-alice-deactivated2025112]

Limbo

I feel like an elephant trying to walk a tightrope — balancing between being my mentally ill self and masking in ways that come off as manipulative, just to fit in. Both of which seem to end in demonization.

I want to get better — whatever that means. Does it mean being myself, mental illness and all? Or does it mean controlling and suppressing myself? Does it perhaps mean living in a constant limbo, trying to do both at once? Does it mean finding people who understand? Because then I might fall off the tightrope altogether.

Maybe life is just a series of falls and triumphs — and the greater the fall, the greater the triumph. And it all just goes round and round. And I’m getting dizzy.

I don't want to fall again. But I don't wish to live a life without triumph.

[airplane-in-a-bottle]

It’s Unreal—

—how far I’ve come.

Lied.

Lost my mind.

Left my own soul behind.

It’s almost as if I’ve—

—already died.

[airplane-in-a-bottle]

“It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.”

Aristotle

[airplane-in-a-bottle]

Bitter Sweetly

Regretful.

Not in melancholy,

But with a maddened resentment.

It’s dreadful.

[between-loss-and-sacrifice]

[between-loss-and-sacrifice]

[airplane-in-a-bottle]

Say

They say,

Tell me a little bit about you.

Five words or less,

They just want an overview.

They say,

Tell me who you are, oh please, really do,

Lies everyone tells,

When they can’t won’t even handle the truth.

They say,

Tell me, what it means to you to lose?

It shouldn’t mean anything,

But It means I have to choose.

I whisper,

It means the old becomes new,

And I take me back from you.

They say,

Tell me! What is the matter with you?

Knife twists in my chest,

And I’m sorry, but I blew.

It’s my turn to say.

It even you

wasn’t me knew.

[eccentricechoes]

Is control simply a delusion; reality, an illusion?

Was there a time where things made sense

I want to stay in touch, be aware. But the world is so unfair

Current events contorts my stomach into anxious knots of torturous suspense

[airplane-in-a-bottle]

Truths you can see,

But lies? Well, they lie.

Lost at sea,

With not a speck of land in sight.

I’m screaming at me,

For wasting precious daylight.

Forgot to breathe,

Forgot

I’m

alive,

Desperate to scream,

Dying

to

die.

[airplane-in-a-bottle]

Void

Screaming into the void,

Is all good until it responds.

To tell you it’s become devoid,

Of all emotion or wants.

It tells you to leave,

To take your issues, sorrows, and pain.

And whatever else you have up your sleeve.

To never show your face again.

The void means it.

When it says it is,

Desperate for pleasing, yet

Angry at the screaming,

Defeated from the scheming, and

Done with the unmeaning.

The void means it.

When it screams,

screams,

screams,

“You’ve had your turn.”

“You’ve screamed, cried, and lashed out.”

“You’ve.

had.

your.

turn.”

“I hope you’re ready for what mine looks like.”

[cynnieisthinking]

You are allowed to change your entire life, if it means you stay in this life

You can change your style, your hair, the way you act towards people. You can move away, go live in the woods, start over somewhere across the world. You can cut all ties with your life right now, you can go and never return.

You are allowed to do everything

Because the alternative is never being able to do anything ever again.

[airplane-in-a-bottle]

Something to think about.

[airplane-in-a-bottle]

Them

The one you love,

The one you hate,

The one you saved.

Their spirit,

Risen above.

Their soul.

Which is late.

Their smile,

Which fills you with,

Trust, Dread.

Run, Stay.

An open hand,

Despite your turned face.

Claws hidden behind,

A façade, fabulously fake.

Their memory is adorned,

With riches beyond measure.

From far away they are,

One of the greatest treasures.

The closer you come,

The clearer you can see.

The glint in their eyes,

And their sparkling, sharp teeth.

Freedom is subjective,

But so are wants an needs.

So are truths and honesties.

So are dreams.

You never know you’ll miss them,

Until they’re you’re too far gone.

You never know you’ll miss them,

Until you forget their haunting songs.

You never know you’ll miss them,

With agonizing waves of panic.

You never remember their downs,

Until the loss of their ups, leaves you,

Familiarly static.

[airplane-in-a-bottle]

Head, Heart, and Hate

If you had to choose one,

Between your head, heart, and hate.

To maximise your gain,

Would you even need to wait?

Would you know which you want?

Certain from the start.

Would you consider what you leave behind?

What gets torn apart?

Choose your head,

Choose logic, reasoning, and sense.

But you may just let,

Your heart go dead.

You’ll know the answer,

To any question or query.

But in delicate matters,

You’ll be wrong at all times, every.

You’ll have no need to feel,

When you can explain it instead.

You can’t be vulnerable to hurt,

If you can tell right from left.

Choose a heart,

It doesn’t have to be your own.

Choose passion and spontaneity,

Even at others’ expense, choose to grow.

An emotional rollercoaster,

With the highs worth the lows.

Judgement doesn’t have to be based in thought,

It can be based in your soul.

Is the risk is worth,

The soaring heights.

Is the fear of death is worth,

A chance to fly.

When you find head has too little heart,

And heart too little head.

You may find the only option left,

Is to dissolve into hate.

Nobody chooses hate,

Not in the beginning.

But we all learn to accept it,

Accept there’s no winning.

Hate grows from indifference,

And is that not just it?

When we want head,

Heart is indifferent,

When we want heart,

It’s head.

So which is it, which do you choose?

If you had to choose one,

Between head, heart, and hate.

Just do it, so you’ll be done.

Just know, it makes no difference,

It doesn’t matter anyway.

We all know that in the end,

It’ll all just become

Hate.

[airplane-in-a-bottle]

Mine

Long time no see says a demon,

To its host.

I’ve returned and it seems,

You forgot faster than most.

What it means to try,

(It means to lose)

What it means to fly,

(It means to bruise)

What it means to die,

(It means no rescues)

You forgot,

What it means to be Mine.

(You really think you get to choose?)

[airplane-in-a-bottle]

Play Pretend

People laugh, people cry,

They have fun, they tell lies.

People drink, they take walks,

They think, they talk, they never stop.

I smile, I sob,

I suck it up, I stop.

I don’t really feel much,

Not much at all.

Wait, that’s not right.

I don’t want it to be.

Yet, even with all my might.

The dullness won’t leave.

I don’t feel happy,

Or at least it doesn’t last.

Unfortunately though,

I can still feel the sad.

I guess it’s the new norm,

The new reality, new me.

Not one that I think

I will ever see leave.

Most of the time I’m empty,

So I’ve learned to play pretend.

It seems life has become,

Just a means to an end.

These words don’t seem like mine,

At least, not the me I used to know.

I’m starting to think she,

Left this world long ago.

So, I play pretend,

Fake it ‘till you make it.

Yet, sometimes,

It’s still as if,

I can feel echoes of emotion,

Echoes I get lost in.

I swim in their endless sea,

But when I come up for breath,

I find it’s all dried up,

Not a droplet left.

I’ve found that in this grief and fight,

I can’t keep playing pretend.

So, instead, I shut my eyes tight,

And inside, drop dead.