Blindly-In-Love

I sat alone. I sit alone. Yes—I sit alone For what was past is present, But the future is never there. I sit alone in a continuous vacuum. I sit alone on a bench in a continuous vacuum where I have no sense of rhyme or reason, of joy or pain, of loyalty or treason. I sit alone. I do not stand For being sedentary is much more honorable. Standing requires guts and faith and fear. Sitting is merely submission, A reservation to the events that I am pushed into. I don’t have to stand to be afraid. I don’t have to put myself into fear. If fear comes, I am settled and waiting and ready. I sit alone. Not by choic

I painted stars and patterns into the ceiling. I chiseled my smiles into the sky And left none for my face. Every blank space is left cold, So I must fix it. I must warm it, heat it somehow. I sketched paint into my arms and hands. I left no room for pain or mistakes, Just art. Painfully beautiful art. I scrub away what is left of me Replace it with something better, Prettier, happier, lonelier. I slashed words onto every surface I could find. Burned everything that I could hurt. I let the screaming pound in my head. Do you know how right they are? All I can do is look up into my jagged ceiling And drown in the art as I die. I don’t

Battling with great aplomb, Sir Lassitude of Workalot was the epitome of a perfect knight. He was trained to fight off interlopers who snuck into the kingdom at night. King Pongo VII surmised that Sir Lassitude was the greatest of all knights; Thus he arranged for a festival of fights! “Oh great Sir Lassitude! The one who saves us all,” cry the merry townsfolk. But alas, the great Sir Lassitude could not be convinced to fight, Even the king himself attempted to exhort the stubborn youth into the games. However, the king’s bombastic speech failed to motivate the exhausted knight. For he demanded Sir Lassitude to expun

Petulant and her sister, Petula, lived very waspish lives. No neighbors nor strangers had thoughts of approbation or notions of great gratitude to owe the pesky siblings. Petulant and her sister moan and groan and whine, screeching “I wanted that crayon” and crying “but I wanted the red dress” Their parents wish to intercede the hackneyed disagreements between the two small children. The complaints always stay the same, the results paralleling. No signs of a hiatus coming, the bickering only increasing. In an attempt to assuage their attitude, their parents practically spoiled them. This turned their complaints toxic,

Grinning like a bobcat, the musician Peculate hastily sets up his violin. The music swells and fills the courtyard like the snow that filters through the ceiling. Oh what a time to be alive, what a time to live in a world of joyous ferment! The music rises to the rooftop and assimilates into a circuitous jumble of noise in the air. What a time of trickery! What adventitious coincidences to have stumbled across! A building being condemned because of its tenuous walls and ceilings, A nominal agreement to a nobody that no one questions, And a quick-witted musician in the need for a room. Oh how most would not abominate someone so ill-fat

The floor disappears as all goes to rose; That is what it feels in this world to fall. Like you are frozen in joy, a mere pose. Feeling like the top of the world, yet small. Supporting arms protect you from it all. Your youth and beauty, they show no decay, They grow as you age, not crumble and fall. Love blossoms then ruins day after day. You swoop in to rescue ones love will sway. She harkens her voice for the young and old; They give her their hearts to mess with and play, For only the loved give their hearts so bold. And as the world crumbles down, you just sigh. Love is pain in joy without a goodbye.

You are such a lovely orb of wonder, One so beautiful that even the sky And its guests are jealous but grow fonder. The birds and flowers are asking you "why, Oh why are you so stunning?" they ponder. Your elegance befuddles many eyes. They grow entranced from here, over yonder; Those that are both extravagant and shy. Your love challenges the sweetest roses, The delightful delicate music cues. I'd rather you than fragrance to noses. I'd pick you over the world's grandest views, You than the statues' lovely carved poses. I'd lose all before it was you I'd lose.

His lilting voice echoes through the hallways, A mournful song that haunts emptiness; a Begging plea for you to stay there always. He calls to you, hoping you will just stay. He sings soft lullabies as the night comes, Forcing you to forget all pretenses. It's so strong that you can't help but to hum. His voice knocking down your walls and fences. You pursue such a vengeful melody, Not caring that your consequences kill. Enter his hands of death oh so freely. He looms over you as your life will spill. You follow that voice, only time can tell, Down you fall, down the wishing well.

Welcome to a world within the mind's eyes. A soulless place that one can always find. Where those of brain and wit shall lose their mind, Where the young ones will either live or die. We will treat those who insist they can fly, Become time-lords as though we will be timed. Pester and fester, then try to be kind, For we try to heal you in the mind's eye. Once you have entered, you can not go back. You're doomed when you enter, unknowingly. Dreams become nightmares, sickly obsessions, Screeching and crying, but you can't look back. With your eyes dead you walk on, hauntingly. Don't say good bye, welcome to depression.

The ideas of liking someone are far too romanticized. You meet a girl or boy somewhere public and you are in love before either of you realize. However attraction isn't set in stone, Some fair best with one, two or more, some alone. The world is too critical and stereotyped that no one can be themselves. We must shove our personalities away, put on some abandoned shelves. But people are fluid, changing and mixing. Broken hearts heal with some mending and fixing. Happiness doesn't revolve around societies needs. Rather on those who find reasons to breathe. Love is a gift we have the priviledge to own, It isn't based on gender, sex, or skin ton