As Many Poems

Poetry, Writing, Snippets, General Outpouring

[cryforhell]

Necromancer, I’m so tired. Can’t you just let me sleep. Each time I am slain you visit this forsaken graveyard and raise me, raise me, unbound, for no purpose to wander aimless, but searching, searching for you, but afraid, so afraid, but hoping and hoping maybe this time you’ll be the one to put me to rest. A final battle. I thought we had settled this war but, Necromancer, I’m wandering again lost and confused. Though the treaty was signed and I was buried deep in an iron cage you crept out here at dusk and brought your tools and whispered in my rotten ears an hour each night, until I was restored. You breathed life into me and set me free. Is it my turn now to hunt?

[cryforhell]

rising rising an ember suffocated in the vacuum of a dying love and then — atmosphere you orbiting flooding the night with oxygen

[cryforhell]

pink noise and the clicking of keyboards the cracking of my knuckles the swirling of my thoughts forecast conversations anticipated voids distractions to destruction couldn’t stray from my old walks from the top to the construction of fundamental talks

[cryforhell]

Detached again

Afraid again of my body

And going through the pain

Taking steps to move away

From people touching me

Ask me first

And tell me what you want

Or in the moment I won’t tell

The hurry from the thirst

Of quenching solitude with turns

Friends are hard

And I’m afraid of losing touch

When we lose touch

[cryforhell]

it seemed like one day you decided I wanted to leave you and that made it true

[cryforhell]

we fall for tall men with their soft eyes and voices father's opposite

[cryforhell]

taking a word from a child on the witch of a table top I breathe and force a life into it brought out from the under of woods and of lumber to grab hold of a solemn philosopher by the skin of a her kitchenette boots we are not the words of a winter deep from the golden bark of a back-lit boy resting on a token mark's flask are we not hours in the wilderness? of our mother's simplest knocks violated out of lioness definitions we picnic with our electronic children and hold their phosphorescent souls in ice and tiredness

[cryforhell]

something is ticking something is wrong taking it's time singing it's song making the most of this ringing so long couldn't have come at a moment more wrong

[cryforhell]

in a crowd I whisper to you just how shit I am that I am not worth it she loves you and I don't even know how everything in me wants to touch and my self restraint makes you want me more

[cryforhell]

when I return from the night to this realm of shadowed skies how will I know if I have changed

[cryforhell]

boy oh I hope that you know that it's late and I don't want to go but I have work in the morning and the sky is telling me no

[cryforhell]

my arms around you a heavy comfort slanted sunlight reflecting off your back and shining into my hands like found treasure

[cryforhell]

we caught each other's eyes one too many times across the room until you caught me alone and got a chance to hold them for longer than a moment or two

[cryforhell]

change is terrifying but so am I

[cryforhell]

I plant my soul in water and watch it grow it may always be at war and it will always go too far but it knows all the words I wrote it knows all the places I call home

I soak my heart in wine and let it know that one day I think we could be fine until that day it's okay to be mine and until then I let it hope and I forever let it hope

I rest my mind in milk and hope it soothes it will play its tricks and it will say again that I am sick but it still thinks that it knows the truth and it somehow thinks I don't see its ruse

I wash my words in salt and file their edges so they will scrape no more and bristle smooth against our walls so that I can leave no marks with those that I have said but then I leave no marks with those that I have said

[cryforhell]

I am done with you please do not take any offence fuck knows what I want

[cryforhell]

I don't know if was I better when I was cold with a singular spark of being ice of being apart to keep me warm I don't know if it is better now to burn