Success, Love And Fear

This tornado of thought is like a self brewed poison.  A symbolism of toxic religion with it's self proclaimed steeple.  A gospel of isolation and suffocation as I try to swallow my storm Of pain in hope of taming it, just to end up spiraling in a whirlpool of my  Own self deprecation and pity party humiliation.  When did my reflection become the version me that I desired to be? And the real me a horrible figment of insecurity and imagination? I sing, "Tubthumping," at the top of my lungs like some sort of personal fight song to just keep going.  Somewhere along the line I forgot about me as I helped you find you. Have I ever had a definite answer as I helped everyone out like it was some  Sort of fast spreading cancer?! When I walked by the other day, you called me by another name and acted as you should be  the one offended as I turned to walk away, just to keep from crying in pain.   It is hard to take back your soul when all you have known is ...

 It is not normal to fancy death in the way I do.  But there is something tempting in the pain of letting it all go,  The sweet relief from all the screams that wake me in the early hours of the morning.   But no chemicals please, not one for the chase of fleeing dopamine And the lying promises of hopeful security.  I've traveled that road before and it turned mothers into monsters. Kind of funny though because the thought of going head first  Into the sea gets a rush out of me.  See again...that deathly sweet release.  There is a darkness that has settled in my soul and it's taking a toll Planted there in a time I didn't know better But nurtured in a way that only the traumatized could appreciate.  I wonder if a soul could have it's own body if mine would be bruised and bloody.  Standing there asking for another  like it's a typical Monday morning.  I'm looking at the outside from in like a prisoner that has committed tre...

In the fourth grade we used to have to keep a weekly journal. Most of the time the teacher gave us topics that he wanted us to write about. But every now and then we got a treat with creative writing and we could write anything we wanted as long as it was in a short story form. All of us got excited to be able to write about whatever it was we wanted.  It was close to Halloween when we got treated with one of those special and I was stoked. I wanted to write a scary story, because well it was close to Halloween which is my favorite holiday; but  even at that age I had a thing about sticking with a theme of things. And I had the perfect inspiration. I used to have this reoccurring nightmare where these flesh stripped hands would pop up out of the floor to try and grab my ankle which forced me to walk around my house like it was a game of the floor is hot lava. The dream itself was always very vivid but lacked enough story to see a pattern as to what caused them in the first pla...

  Despite how socially inept I can be most of the time, I have always enjoyed trying to make someone's day a little brighter or just in general helping them. Granted I do have a mother hen mode that is hard to turn off sometimes, especially if it concerns those I love. But I know what it's like to be having a shitty day and someone that cares about you comes along and try's to make you feel better by simply offering to let you bite their nipple to get your anger and frustration out.... Don't ask, we were 15 and it was a stupid, awkward situation at the time because I liked the guy. 😂   But the moral of this story is that he did make me feel better. He made me feel awkward as shit; but he also made me laugh. And at the time it made me forget my worries. From there I was able to direct the situation I was in a lot better then I was before. And let me tell you it was a great feeling. So if I can do that for another person, I will. To be honest, it gives me purpose.    ...

    The pain is all so real. Don't you know there is a  demon in that little pill? Whispering promises like  fluttering  fingers tips against  your lips.  If only orgasms were like little deaths,  just so we could feel alive again.  But this hell dust is no yellow sunshine.  It will make you wish you chose Mr. Blue.  You look in the mirror and ask, "Sweetheart, what happened to you? You were born in the wild like a bright burning fire. You couldn't be tamed.  What in the hell changed to make you so sour? Did the devil call out your name and taint it with his power?" Flip, reverse the act.  I have never seen a person run into the arms of the devil quite like that. You make me believe in fantasy fiction come true.  Keeping  your soul chained on the line of the  living and those long past dead. How do you love when you have come undone? Wearing your pain in a heart shaped tattoo.  If there was somethi...

I want to believe in love Just like how the midnight  Believed in the warmth of the sun.  But to let go of this rage Is like walking through  the fire with all the pain.  Believing in you was like licking the frosting off my favorite cake. So sinful sweet, it hurt my teeth.  You are to blame for this cruel game .  Am I guilty of whispering your name? I cried out to God asking," How come?" It is not like I am his unfortunate son.  Yet here I am crucified To a heart that never gave a damn.  I asked again, "How come?!" All I ever wanted to do  Was know the warmth of the sun.  -Ashlae Grisham 2021