Menacing Inhale

Air in my lungs but barely breathing
Ribs tightening and just teasing
Me to the point of cloud nine
Wondering where my boy went, canine
Breaking past the promise line

Red and bent running, racing
Back and forth like pacing
Hes not coming back, menacing
Telling me that I’m backwards not facing

Walking and trembling, trying to remember
Joining clubs, such an exclusive member
Dining and dashing, brain dismembering

Fondling, fumbling inside the womb
Wasn’t, isnt fair to assume
That I’m becoming a wall of a tomb

Take me, steer me near
Watch me burn as i swallow this beer
Gasping, too far to inhale
Reaching, creeping all I can do is exhale

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Alone is okay.

When you’re a kid, sometimes other children may poke fun at you because they see you sitting by the wall alone while they are playing on the playground. You just want to play by yourself or even sing songs to yourself.

When you’re a teenager, other teens calls you boring because you don’t want to drink underage or even in general and you’d rather stay inside on a friday night watching your favourite movie, rather than go to house parties or clubs with your friends. Being around people either brings you anxiety or you just prefer to spend time alone with your own thoughts.

When you’re an adult, many other adults will notice that you can barely keep a job long enough to even say that you’ve had a job or you don’t have a partner so you won’t most likely won’t find one in a long time. Maybe it’s just hard for you to be around people or even animals for some, maybe depression makes its’ way into your head and drags you down and makes it harder for you to make it out of the house for even as something simple as a coffee.

Regardless, it’s okay to have mental illnesses. They don’t define you. It’s also okay to prefer to be alone. Sometimes for some people, being alone is more beneficial for them than conversing with someone else.

Writings of a not-so-called writer.

Can you call yourself a writer if you aren’t published and don’t write various different types and forms of writing?

Can you call yourself a writer if you don’t even write things often?

I just say I write instead of calling myself a writer, unless I’m using hashtags as writers because it helps my poetry navigate the internet better.

It’s amazing how you can be so into writing for a while, almost anything and everything inspires you to write. It could be something as simple as a little speck of dust.

The dust, who knows what exactly that dot is speckled with, how long ago it drifted from out of nowhere.

Or something that can be written about a million times in a million different ways such as a person.

They sat there, all they did was sit there and I was taken aback. only my mind knew what to say while my mouth couldn’t vocalize those thoughts.

Sometimes, it doesn’t really take something I’ve seen before or something I’ve heard or said before to spark the desire, the yearning to jot down words in the form of poetry, rhyming or not.

I just turn on music, usually the old same songs I listen to on repeat or I dip into the waters of unfamiliar sounds to my ears and I just start writing.

I used to write about what I felt falling in love would feel like. Then I started writing about heart break, insanity and I even wrote some pieces while drinking alcohol. I’d often find myself re-reading what I’ve written the previous night in the wee hours of the night/morning and I found that my mind was all over the place, as it always seems to be, but it was more obvious in what was on the programs I type in on my laptop, and spilled onto paper.

I go through periods of time where I don’t even pick up a pencil or a pen and then I meet someone who inspires me, who is there and who I’m intrigued by. Whether it be someone I’m into or a person I met waiting at the bus stop on a rainy or snowy day.

Then I start getting back into the scene. Barely eating, staying up later, talking with that one person and not doing much other than writing about them or something they’ve said or I’ve just simply thought about them.

Writing, I’d have to say can be hard, but is one of my biggest releases. Escapes.

 

 

 

 

Bloody Cocktail

Letting this feeling set in
As it trickles down throughout
Your very body
Conquering every inch
Smothering every
Nook
That ever existed
In what you call
A soul
Liquid filling your lungs
Slowly destroying
Your heart like
A river breaking a dam
Allowing it to swallow
Every insecurity
You’ve ever had
If you’ve had any at all
In your life
Making you feel like
Your existence doesn’t even
Exist
They call this alcohol
But I view it as a bloody
Cocktail
Working it’s way
Into your system
Your brain
Convincing you that you can’t
Survive without it
Sober rarely
Whether on alcohol or
Not
Sober not really
Dependant on the feeling
Of being numb
You want to be numb
But at the same time you don’t
Making up love songs
That make no sense
Because you have no tune
And your guitar makes you
Look talented
Cool, but you pretend anyways
Because it takes away
And distracts others from
Seeing who you really are
Because really, you’re
More hurt than you lead on
You want to be alone
But being alone secretly kills you
So you suck up and take any attention you can get
You use and manipulate to get what you want because it makes you feel temporarily complete
But then you’re left feeling worse