[x]

Heart Has Been BrokenI watch you from a distance
Your pain filled expression as you are turned down
There is a feeling of pain left inside
But there is nothing left to hide

Your heart has been broken
It looks like it’s been torn open
And it ticks like a clock
You wish to see your feelings returned
But it’s just not to be

I miss the beauty in the air
Of the times where you start to sing
A melody of your love
It’s another one of those beautiful things
But now all I feel is the misery in the air
Where you were rejected

Your heart has been broken
It looks like it’s been torn open
And it ticks like a clock
You wish to see your feelings retur

MyriaMyria

Dwelling in the veil of darkness
Concealed by the cold embrace
Remaining so silent, in hiding
In a world draped in shadows
Entombed in my own isolation
I waited for that pain to die
I starved it out of my mind
I refused to indulge its desires
I destroyed my soul to stop it
Sanity is mere collateral damage

Struggling through the aftermath
After the battle with myself
There are no winners in war
Only victims and the defeated
Lying shattered inside my head
Crippled thoughts cut to pieces
Dreams left to bleed out alone
I forgot who I was fighting
Or what I was fighting for
Blinded by the anger and rage

The war let the darkness in
In the

Come hither with meCome hither with me.
Come hither and see.
Come hither and let thy feet wander free.
A place where thy soul wilt finally find peace.
A place where thy suffering wilt finally cease.
Come hither with me.
Come hither and see.
Come hither, never wonder what thy want to be.
Thy wilt? Take this knife, stab thyself in thy chest.
Thy knows what thy want.
Thy knows what knows what is best.
Come hither with me.
Come hither and see.
Come hither and let the both of us flee.
Let thy pain explode in thy system of vines.
Don't ever look back, leave it all behind.
Rip out my heart and let the blood flow.
Let it burn, let it hurt until everyone knows.
I shall be waiting for you until thou art here
And I know I will wait for the next thousand years.
~M.E.B.~

Wake me up whenWake me up, when crying is only for those moments that are unbearably beautiful.
Wake me up, when helping someone else, is done genuinely and joyfully.
Wake me up, when society becomes less interested in falsities and more aware of truth.
Wake me up, when equality is real, apparent, strong and inevitable.
Wake me up, when children's innocence is untainted with maturity.
Wake me up, when control is dead and freedom roams wildly.
Wake me up, when poverty only exists in bad decisions.
Wake me up, when money is last, on the peoples to get list.
Wake me up, when power belongs to us, and not the self-proclaimed.
Wake me up, when we heal the ea

Aaron GreenHe has four patients in analysis,
who lie on the couch, and six patients
who come in for psychotherapy
and sit in a chair.

A vivid, impatient,
unsmiling face--
professorial clothes
subdued tie
black modern sofas
beige carpets
reproductions of modern
art, an unswerving classical
Freudian sort.

I remember the agreeable warmth
of the low-ceilinged,
dimly lit room.
A cozy lair.

From these early, unimagi

DublinAt the hour of twelve at night, I
Stride O’Connell street, brightly
Lit pubs hold men in drunken pride
Singing the Celtic songs loudly
As dancers dance to th’tune lightly.
“Whack for th’toora loora laddy,
Whack for the toora loora lay,”
Dances on my ears, the happy
Tune takes me to a window. I stay,
And I look by the candle’s rays.
I see the sweet Spanish Lady
Granting her feet their ablutions,
Until my soft vision’s taken from me
By two men, one drunk, their functions
Suffering hallucinations.
It is daytime, and half-past eight,
And I spy the Spanish Lady
Brushing her hair in th’broad daylight

PEACOCK

Peacock! Peacock! Your spirit known;
all directions your feathers flown.
From the ashes in plumage rise,
shedding the past and living wise.

Proudly sound your boisterous call,
for laughter warms and heals us all.
Would that we learn your lessons well,
clearly seeing where beauty dwells -

Within each creature great and small,
steadily growing, walking tall;
with body, heart and mind made whole
to know the worth of one's own soul.

NewbornClose your eyes and listen
And soon enough you'll hear
The heartbeat of a newborn
Beating fast and clear

Innocent and curious
A newborn wants to know
The big world that surrounds it
And who is friend or foe

A newborn calf is precious
Just like a newborn pet
It needs its mother with it
To love and to protect

So why do you forget this
When you buy meat and cheese?
A calf isn't a cat or dog
But it deserves to breathe

A newborn needs much space to grow
Regardless of what species
A newborn needs to have good health
Not cages caked with feces

A calf that's torn from its mother
Two short days after birth
A calf that's born just to be killed
For

Rain reflectsYou walk around, your leg throbbing, slightly confused… how did I get here? Your heart beats in your chest intensely and rapidly; sweat drips off your forehead. Your vision become’s steady and your eyes focus on the forest floor. Your knees give in and you collapse onto your back, through the branches you see glistening light, beaming through the leaves, coating you in a yellow glow. Where am I? You attempt to stand, slightly painful but bearable. You look down at your bare feet as they lead you forward, through the trees, Who am I? You open your hands and look thoroughly at your fingers; you move them up closer to your face and

When one door closes...I’ve heard the saying
When one door closes, another opens,
I felt the disconnect and the lock clicked shut
It closed for just a moment
Then opened so hard
That it spun me

I went down in a haze of mixed emotions,
Not over my loss but feeling for you,
My wants mangling each other,
Eating each other alive,
Until there was nothing left
But me

When the tears stopped
and you were there, waiting
I ran toward you
Wanting change, wanting freedom
Embracing an uncertain future
For love

Your eyes were like the ocean
A swirling punch bowl of blue and white,
So inviting in their dance
So severe was the pull of your undertow
That I dove right in

Call me HellCall me Hell
Because I'll burn you with one look
Call me Heartless
Because I don't care
If you live
Or die
(But I would rather I get to deal the final blow)

So go ahead
Die today
But then again
You could of died yesterday
And you're just a part of my
Imagination
(Shouldn't that be insanity?)

Call me Crazy
Because I refuse to believe in your world
Because I live in another state of mind
Far away from
Your time line

Hero ComplexI bartered my soul away
For the boy with wolf eyes
He locked me behind his teeth

He carved snake bites into my lips
And tore apart the gilded edges of my lashes
In an endeavor to uncover some semblance of my siren words

He broke apart my ribs in an attempt
To find my landmine heart
Which held no sound

Cupid's ArrowAn arrow, string, bow, and quiver are an archer’s basic necessities.
But I missed Cupid’s target years ago.
Without returning like a boomerang.

Since then I’ve left his quiver cobweb filled,
While sending his bow a proper funeral in flames.
Because précising pain shouldn’t be at the beginning or end of your true love story.

One day my soaring will end with a bullseye.
Without a single strand attached,
Or a single scar left by behind for you to know by name.

BonesBeneath the willow I did stand
for hours and hours
Until my hand
fell numb upon the withered flowers.

I felt it burning though I knew
that on cold stones
The warmth withdrew
and the cold sank deep within my bones.

These bones could shatter now or freeze,
my heart can but ignore
The wailing of these sulking trees
that I shall hear no more.

I felt the cold flow through my bones
for hours and hours
Until my groans
grew mute upon the withered flowers.

Things I'll Never SayThere are certain things I’ll never say,
Like how I thought about killing myself today
Just to keep my own scary thoughts away.
Like how I stay awake way too late
To be sure I don’t awake in a bloody state.
Like how I soaked white into red last night
And turned myself into a ghastly sight.
Like how it hurts too much to breathe
When I make my own skin seethe.
Like how I Google things I shouldn’t
When I want to do things I couldn’t.
Like how I’m scared of being alone
Yet I’m only happy when I’m on my own.
Like how I know I’ll wind up killing myself
And turn into just a dusty photo on a dusty sh

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11. memoryI know my past by
the invisible scars that dot my memory –
evidence of open brain surgery
(that maps what's been carefully removed,
then isolated and forgotten.)

Life is a road with many forks
but all lead off the edge of a
precipice.

Don’t ask me why –
it just is, okay?

“Look at all these choices!”

[Not important, I mean.]

Most of my days are consumed by
the impractical marker of the
current end of my history.

(Most of the time I
call it a pain in the neck,
but sometimes I just call it
the ‘present’.)

- a biased introduction to one thing or another.

A bottle, a piece of paper, some wordsThings that remind me of you:

The night sky.

The dark.
Winter.
The rumbling of thunder that follows lightning.

When my music, for some reason,
is on shuffle and I hear a song
that I used to listen to
two or three years ago.

Dark blue, grey and black.
Black, yellow and grey.

How my fingers get harder to move,
yet still I carry on typing,
and the muted excited happiness
that moves under the keys.

… … …

I think of you day to day
and how you crumble under my
hands in the strangest fashion –
not beautiful, but something like it.
I can watch the shards fall for
days, weeks,
and every time I blink you’ll
be

The Butterfly EffectHe had to know, by any means.

“I don’t want to listen-”
Ah. “I wonder about that sometimes.”

Madness is a defining trait,
arising from a solid 50% of
the human condition.

Only the right side, though, or so I thought;
or maybe in the spaces between letters
that language tells us identifies words
and he told me was only due to the fact
that the postman only
comes once a day.

I don’t know if I can always believe him.

He always wanted –
a light, a possibility
“What awaits at the farthest ends?"
The gentle ebb of the present quivered
and I wondered:
How do two people fit
into the

47. dirtOne day, he woke feeling restless.
There was something he needed
but he didn’t know what –
this unformed emotion sitting in
the recess of his chest that
drew pictures in the dirt.
So curious was it that he couldn’t
remove the memory from his skin.

“What do you want?” he asked,

But the feeling looked away and replied,

“It’s okay to forget about me.”

But he couldn’t,
and so he wrung his brain out
to find that mud came out of
the cracks. It was unusual and
peculiarly ugly. He cleaned it up
and tried to ignore the frayed feeling,

but it never went away.

Premature Breakageam I safe, mother?
do I exis-

I spent months inside
a crimson dream, my head filled
with the rumbling melody
of your voice,

& the way your laughter
shook my entire body.

home is a part of your insides-

mother, can they operate the peace
out of your body?

I think my head is a bit diSor iEn T ate d
because my lungs are swimmi ng in fLui d
& I caN’t remember how to bre athe
like I ne ver have beF o Re.

I’m sorry for being a bad chil d

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406

by *wei-en, Mar 8, 2013, 2:56:18 PM
Literature / Poetry / Spiritual / Free Verse

when I opened my eyes,
everything had changed.

people smiled & laughed &
they looked through me
as 1 looks through a
stained glass window.

my eyes were raw,
my skin was shiny & new.

I woke
and I was no longer needed

but I was wanted
& that was my happiness.

406by *wei-en

Literature / Poetry / Spiritual / Free Verse

This is sort of inspired by a character who belongs to a story I may never write and has no name so is called 406...

I was listening to a song the other day that taught me a lot about their relationship with their brother, and so I guess it hung around.

By the way, no, they were not in a coma and do not have missing memories.

(c)

Do not copy, re-distribute or use my works, in part or in whole, without my prior written permission.

~~love 0 0~~

~~joy 0 0~~

wow 1 1

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~yaoidragon96 Mar 9, 2013 New member Student Writer

very interestin, im trying to compute it in my mind to what it could mean, did the amount of space bewteen lines have any significance?

*wei-en Mar 10, 2013

The larger number of blank lines breaks up thoughts. Think of it as if there is a little person telling a story, and every so often they get so lost that their mind wanders. When they resume their story, it's half a continuation and half a new start, if you know what I mean.

That's not exactly what's happening, but it's similar.

~yaoidragon96 Mar 11, 2013 New member Student Writer

ahh, like i thought and that is very insightful.
i think its a great method of writing and for 2 reasons:

1) it makes your writing seem less to read

2)it emphasizes your words and brings more focus to what your reading

*wei-en Mar 11, 2013

Thank you

~yaoidragon96 Mar 12, 2013 New member Student Writer

you are very welcome

~TheTenthSword Mar 8, 2013 New member

This is beautiful! I literally read this with my mouth half open

*wei-en Mar 8, 2013

Thank you very much!

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