|armed and recycled|
I hope somaybe we are already in heaven,I hope so by TheStoyTeller
sleeping in a bed that Jesus made us,
dreaming about the life we lived because
even through all of the battles we've waged,
the blood from those wars is somehow apart
of us and we miss it all the same.
maybe when we die, we'll awake on a cloud
to someone as sad and as happy as we'll
ever be. maybe this is already over
Hypnagogia There are holes in my ceilingHypnagogia by TheStoyTeller
from all of the times I've shouted out against the dark, against the grain of my existence.
And even in my most comfortable state,
my hands tremble and shake with desire.
I want to grip the points of burning stars.
I want them to pierce and infect me
cut me with reassurance.
I want to know that I am somehow awake or asleep
or alive or I am
proof that inanimate beings
can still bleed.
I can see through my eyelids,
I can see the world revolve around everything.
these nightmares and the lines between what I think and what I know,
what I feel and what I have become are so blurred
that I start to believe in romance again.
This time, I hope it kills me.
you're dating a jock so why are you talking to meyou said I wasn't pretty enough.you're dating a jock so why are you talking to me by TheStoyTeller
There was not enough glitter infused
with my blemishes, not enough sharp edges
crawling along the walls of my hair
yet I found something uglier in the way you stayed still,
not saying yes, not saying no,
scrawled along my living room floor,
an open book that could not be read.
The potential I saw in you was shot dead
by your ambitions to be a doomed house wife,
some damsel that had good sex with halfway strangers
and even better conversations with "just friends".
and the justification in our platonicy remained
in the fact that I met you there, undoubtedly, every time
beneath the pots and pans and broken bed frames,
all of these things dirty and ubiquitous.
you saw something hideous in the blackness of my eyes,
but maybe it was the reflection of you,
sprawled out on my kitchen floor,
your body separate and pushing the frames of a sun dress,
reaching for me, calling me but I will not answer.
I will not touch
not you. not again.
as bright as you are, you will never be enoughthe sun drownsas bright as you are, you will never be enough by TheStoyTeller
as it hangs itself over the edge
of a cold, neglecting ocean.
it is 300,000 times heavier than the Earth,
a burden plagued to it by it's own lungs
as it's flames nail it down against the sky.
Toxic to itself, it still searches, the sun.
shining it's infinite light
for a chance to glimpse the moon
only to see that it is above,
rested among smaller, freer stars.