Mental Health
Lachrymose
What were these deadened eyes sundered for? Eyes that have seen only black, blue, and sickening green on my ceaseless worldly tour. Languorous from reddened trickling disdain. Absorbing naught but ebbing pain. This daily ritual, a dabbing display. Inescapable, my mortal form’s been inundated with melancholic figments. I’m wasting away from the inside out. Frigid fickle winds eroding down to particulate, escaping in a gale force cyclonic spout. Spewing forth from my ceaselessly faltering mouth. Deposited in the delta slowly formed. Flying south of the slaughtering fields where lie the fallen bodies of dread and self-doubt. Told the way to happiness was deadening my heart. Quest fulfilled, yet the spring still flows, more lay buried within the fibrous graveyard now unleashed. An endless stream, no flinching or blaming. There is only taking an account. Torrential disconsolate fits overwhelm me. No matter my company or location I fear no eyes or lips of reprisal, my doleful brokenhearted wails echo wearily over the county. The shallows and deep waterways carry my penetrating intonations. They carry, mournfully striking spectators to their core. Escorting lachryma to hazy eye, involuntarily, and forevermore.
By K.B. Silver 4 days ago in Poets
idk
I don't know what the fuck I'm feeling. I know I feel rays of sunshine as they soak into soft skin. I know I feel hope flutter in every gust of wind. I know I feel afraid when the world is unlit and imagination creates beasts in the infinite dark. I know I feel joy like electricity pulsing from heart to fingertips when my mind is blank and my hands make intuitive brushstrokes on blank canvases. I know I feel awe when I stand atop a cliff and stare down watching trees sway and a stray leaf tumble by. I know I feel pain such utter agony at the thought of others in pain and being unable to intervene. I know I feel devastation seeing trash on the sides of highways and absolute grief when a stray pet's body lies among it on the side of the road. I know I feel nothing but love, adoration, respect, surprise, excitement, anxiety, when I think about my role as a mother. I know I feel and I know that I know nothing yet I know enough at least I hope. Sometimes though I still don't even know what the fuck I'm feeling.
By Lolly Vieira5 days ago in Poets
