Mental Health
Evanesce
It isn’t how you imagine it. It’s not a linear path to romance or success. Its fulfillment isn’t based on wealth or possessions. How you disappear into yourself is however you wish it to be. To envelop yourself within your own folds and crevices. Beyond any precipice or fissure holding you back. Every unique incision is another way to evaporate into miniscule fracture. How do we dissolve entirely? How do we dissipate suddenly? The only way to know is to simply escape. I aim to lose myself within the confines of myself. To explore every corner in the recesses of my mind. I will swallow myself and regurgitate into something new. To evanesce into the unknown but I know I will know it soon enough. I will claim what is rightfully mine. To find the center of myself as I become transparent. The universe will revolve around me as well as the galaxy. I will go into the void and be one with the grains of sand. I will survive in the abyss as I count the numerous stars in the infinite sky. I will shrink as I erupt. It’s not how you imagine it. It’s not set in stone nor is it preconceived. It’s taking flight to the middle of yourself. What makes you you? What secrets and desires lie beyond the surface of yourself? I can’t tell you how to disappear into oblivion. I can only wish you good luck as you search for the answers to all the unasked questions
By Anna Torresabout a year ago in Poets
Parallel Slates
I know how you feel right now. Deep down inside your soul, you want to be connected with someone who isn’t there or who doesn’t exist, but you wish they did. No matter how hard you pray, and lock eyes with the clouds, you still feel like you’re alone - pouring out your rainy heart, droplet by droplet. The white walls, to your right and to your left, they remind you of your clean slate. What is this clean slate for? You wait and wait and waste? It all depends.
By Rowan Finley about a year ago in Poets
Blink in Time. Content Warning.
This was created today after working on another video that went south for a while. I thought about my tooth pain and the wealthy and their sadistic grins as they stomped on the ants, and all I gain is tooth pain. It is commentary written from my tooth pain brain of dreams of extreme pain and extreme society pain of grief, power, greed, destruction, and fucking rainbows. We will rise. Ants build colonies to the top of the highest building in Manhattan throwing over the few elite white small, tooled patriarchy men.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
