a hundred days of happiness: day 44 – a hundred days of poetry

a flood of posts because i haven’t written the way i promised myself i would.

it’s a hard knock life ( a poem)

it’s hard trying to be happy.

this project for my soul
is draining me
every inch
of who i used to be
and everything i write
seems to echo
nursery rhymes
blank with reasons
drenched in ‘trying’
because that’s the word:

a hundred days of happiness

should be painless
but it’s not.

i want to be
eighteen again, wrapped in his arms
dancing through the snow
walking across a frozen pond
memories engraved in my loss
but the totem is pain
and i’m on edge,
constantly battling
the medication wearing off.

i tried to be calm
and soothing in the way i was taught
breathing in and out
but still the mania hits
and when it does
i can’t help but laugh
but it’s tied to the fear
when the high wears off
so do i
and i’m screaming

SCREAMING SCREAMING SCREAMING
to get the monsters out
but the words flee
off pages that write themselves
into storybooks with empty thoughts
and lies escape my fingers
writing happy
writing happy
writing

.
.
.

 

blank titles ( a poem)

it’s wrapped in a vague sadness,
the idea of hope –
the ever ambiguous feeling that slips
through the cracks in our veneer
of petty emotions.

i thought once we left,
the memories would stay
enveloped in
rose,
the smells tantalizing and teasing
merciless in their elusiveness.

but time proves otherwise
as the choirs sing,
belting out their words of wisdom,
pop confusion
in this culture we’ve created
by hand

you would trace sigils
into skin that burnt hot
with anger, cold with rage,
tearing at the walls that held in
raw emotion that
meant nothing.

we are pretty crayons
wax figurines
dolls without dreams
trying to pave our way
through this winding path
of discontent.

my parents used to say
the world is your oyster
but that never made sense
because oysters are tiny
and the world is big.
bigger than me.

and way larger than i’ve ever dared
to imagine.
i hope i never lose this feeling,
or semi-permanence.
the fear of disappearing.
but it’s wrapped

in a vague feeling of disappointment
that wavers through the cracks
creasing our porcelain veneers
with the understanding that
one day,
we’ll see the world as flat –
that’s terrifying.

 

what it should’ve been (a poem)

i feel alone
now more than ever
it’s a weird pinch
where my heart used to be.

life happens
and it trails on by
leaving behind
a wake of goodbyes.

i’m bittersweet.

trapped in my own bitterness
for a life lived
in greens and ocean
waves beckoning
except my heart is
waving goodbye.

i’m torn.

caught in the turnover
that ceases
creasing the kisses away
from my brow

i wipe the memories off my skin
washing away your elusive smell
your cologne faded
intensity leaps
off pages onto screens

i could try to write
but the pain is mine alone
and i want to savour the apathy
(wide in the eyes of these so-called friends)

before it fades.

nobody gets that
because leaving is easy
and staying is hard
but i stayed anyway.

i should’ve stayed away.

 

treadmill running. ( a poem)

i am running
in the same spot
going nowhere
fast.

my lungs are burning
and my dreams are aching –
haunted.

we used to shudder
at the midnight stories of
hunter turned hunted
by the animals within

but we thought we could tame
the wild,
so we were taught.

i am running from the past
with a
single minded determination
to get somewhere else

but who we were
defines who we are
and there is no escape.

Red beckons
with a quick wave of hands
and if i could leave behind emotions
i’ll be gold.

but i run
in the same spot
going nowhere fast

because who we are
is right here inside
and not out there,
where i’d like to be.

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