#fakepoetess

[drunkzombie]

A Poison Of Defiance

Give me a poison that won’t bring my end, Leaves a bitter taste; I have a wound to mend. Let discomfort linger but spare my breath, A flirtation, not a vow with death. I’d take the sip feel it burn, A lesson learned a corner turned. To say I tried to feel the end, Yet still remain a soul to mend. The universe whispers soft and sly, “You’re not done; don’t ask me why.” In its cruel yet tender way, It calls me special bids me to stay. So give me a poison, but let me live, A strange reminder of what life gives. For even in the darkest shade, The light insists it won’t let me fade.

— fakepoetess

[drunkzombie]

Echoes of Silence

Can you vomit your pain, spill it out like jagged rain? Can you cough up your despair, release the weight that lingers there? Maybe then my chest would ease, maybe my lungs could finally breathe. If I starve my helplessness dry, will it crumble, fade, and die? If I sever a limb, my sacrifice, would it make me worthy in their eyes? Will they hear my voice, my cry— or let it vanish, passing by?

— fakepoetess

[drunkzombie]

Damnation either way

Something wants to guff out of my throat. Something stings behind my eyes. A serpent or some snivelling crawling worms Fleeing a home now barren, hollow, and dry. They leave behind a ruin, Breaking one to bleed into another— What was sweetness before spilling bitterness Like a raven pecking from within my gaze, Cracking the shell of a fragile self, Brimful of dreams, unaware of the predator Waiting for him to peck out and flutter. Serpent or raven. Throat or eyes. Predator or prey— Both just trying to survive. Wanting to survive. But one’s survival dooms the other. And the other's mercy, a self-damnation. What's the point? —What's the point?— What is the point?

– fakepoetess

[drunkzombie]

Tight

I hold on to things so tight Not just till they die Until they wither decompose in my hands Turn to dust fly away in front of my eyes I hold on to things so tight Sometimes they die as impersonation Sometimes I smother them to suffocation Sometimes I wonder if things could have been different Sometimes I wonder if I’m to blame, If loosening grip could’ve changed the game. And sometimes I ache, but never touch, Why is it me who feels too much?

–fakepoetess

[drunkzombie]

Epiphany

_Wrapped in a shawl, Listening to old songs, I had an epiphany— I can feel. Living in the mountains, In the oldest cities, I had an epiphany— I can break. Hearts can shatter, Souls can tear, I had an epiphany— Pain lingers in the air. Memories fade Feelings stays, Blushing cheeks Missed hearbeats. Deja vu strikes Like winter’s bite, Soft yet sharp, Day and night. But wounds don’t whisper, They learn to sing— In every loss, A reckoning. I had an epiphany—

– fakepoetess

[drunkzombie]

I am not made for...anything

I am not made for social media i am not made for real life

I am not made for mountains i am not made for modern life

I am not made for fitting in I am not made for standing out

I am not made for starting I am not made for ends

I am not made for strangers I am not made for friends

I am the in-between breath no one waits to hear.

The empty room still echoing footsteps that are not yet near.

I am the sigh that never finds the air,

The question left hanging when no one's there.

[drunkzombie]

Held Wrong, Held Still

These shadows—they cradle me whole, Born from the bruises etched on my soul. They whisper lies I know too well, A lullaby straight out of hell. They claw, they choke, they never rest, But stay—when love failed every test. I shiver, break, yet lean in tight— At least their darkness holds me right.

[drunkzombie]

Nyx's Embrace

Late night whispers, soft and low,

Lingering echoes that never go.

A whispered goodnight, a waiting game,

Counting hours, longing the same.

I have loved, loved, loved this fate,

Yet hated, hated, hated its weight.

My mind and heart—a clashing tide,

Oil and water, side by side.

It was misery, it was bliss,

A ruin carved from every kiss.

It was salvation, it was pain,

A storm I’d walk through once again.

Or maybe I won't

Maybe it was all in my head

A war, a dance, a curse, a prayer—

Afterall, I've always craved nightmares.