Archive for Angsty Poems
I am old now.
Old and tired.
Tired to the bone.
My bones
ache
from years
of struggle
of drama.
I am old now.
Old and tired.
Tired of
struggling.
Tired of
drama
other people’s
and
my own.
Tired to the bone.
Bones aching
from highs
that are
too high
lows
that are
too low.
I am old.
Now
tired
of fighting
myself.
Bones aching
from internal
struggles.
Struggles that
make me
old
older than
my years.
I sleep
for hours.
Tired.
Tired to the bone.
And I dream.
I dream
of stillness
of peace
I am old now.
Old and tired.
Tired to the bone.
I use
to
cry
when
I came.
At the
moment
of climax,
as
the
muscles
tensed
then
released
and
my
body
was flooded
with
that
amazing
sensation,
I was
shattered.
I felt
myself
breaking
apart
into a
1000
tiny
pieces
and
I would
cry.
I would
feel
connected
until
that
moment,
until
I came
and
then
I would
feel
the truth.
The truth
of
bodies
in motion
and
friction
and
know
I had
never
really
given
myself.
A feeling
of
complete
and
utter
isolation
would
wash
over me
with
him
still
inside me
and
I would
cry.
There was
nothing
lonelier
than that
moment.
Of going
from the
height
of ecstasy
to the
depths
of despair
in a single
second,
a single
twitch
of a muscle.
There was
no way to
explain
my tears.
No way
to look
into the
confused face
of the man
I was
with
and
say
what was
going on
inside me.
That I was
breaking apart,
that I was
alone,
that
he was
inside me
and I was
still
not
connected
to him,
not in
any
real
sense.
I feel you
moving
separate
yet a part of
all that I am
Connected
by a fallacy
bound
by uncertainty
Too afraid
to move forward
to break
the bond
that still draws us together
Too stubborn
to face the
truth
What I feel
is
a shadow
a ghost
a memory
Part of what I was
not who
I am
I’d have sold my soul for a moment like this
For a flash of crystal clear vision
For honesty & trust
For insight into my own tortured heart.
To look into my own abyss and
back away from the chasm unscarred.
Would it hurt less if the actions I took were more base?
Had I cut the flesh that offends
Instead of allowing another to occupy it?
Would the ripping of skin, the sight of my own blood
Give me release from this prison of my own creation?
Would the rending of my flesh awaken me?
29 times in 29 ways
I have tried to reach you
29 times in 29 ways
I tried to break
through the walls that separate us
Was it 4 too few?
Was it 5 too many?
Do I continue to stand outside
pounding my fists till they are bloody?
Do I turn and walk away and
prove that you were right all along
that I would leave you eventually?
Do I wait patiently
Make no move towards you
Make no move away
In hopes that some day
some year
Some how
Some way
you will open your eyes
as well as your heart
and really see me
See that I am still here.
How many times must we play this game
How many times must we run from each other
From ourselves
From the truths that we do not wish to face
29 times in 29 ways
We failed ourselves
We failed each other
You for not giving in
Me for not letting go.
