I want to do something dangerously impulsive
Heyo Friendo, the name's Pink! Welcome to my corner of the internet. I reblog a lot of art, and sometimes post my own ^-^
Pocket Poems
When I don’t know how
to express myself, I write
small little poems
that I can carry
around in my shirt pocket.
When I get anxious,
I know the words are
right there, resting near my heart.
They are with me, safe.
Blink?
(blink... blink...) I feel numb.
How does it feel (blink) to die?
Is it the same as
watching (blink) paint dry?
Could you feel them wiggling,
your fingers and toes?
I don't know, I don't--
(blink, blink) waking up... I feel...
I feel. (blink blink blink.)
Among the flowers
Colorful flowers
as far as the eye can see.
Summer breeze in hair;
a laugh, a giggle.
All is well, here in the field,
laying next to you.
Necessities
Tap tap tap my foot,
leg bouncing, impatiently.
I-- I need to move,
need to go, need to
kick, run, jump, dance, talk, laugh, scream--
I need to leave and
never look again
at what I leave behind me.
I want-- I need to--
mspaint doodle because I can... it's been forever since I've done digital, now I remember why I hate my mouse >_>
A scene from BecausePlot's awesome dsmp fanfic, The End of the Beginning! It's a beautiful story, highly recommended!!
Corpses of the past
rise and walk the overworld.
They crave Player flesh.
.
Lurking beneath waves,
the drowned wait to pull sailors
to watery graves.
.
Buzzards peck away
at the hollow husks of men
buried in the sand.
Skeleton
The undead archer.
An arrow notched, taking aim.
Player pincushion.
Creeper
Explosive creature
left holes in your house and lawn.
Rebuilding, once more.
Enderman
Be careful, don't look--
you'll be lost in the depths of
their enchanted stare.
firework colors
explode across midnight skies.
See beauty; feel hope.
You okay?
Tired. Burning out.
Determined to continue,
with no time to sleep.
Safety in the Storm
A terrible storm
cries and howls outside my door.
Rain falls from the sky
in heavy buckets.
It rat-a-tat-tats the roof
so hard I'm surprised
my home doesn't cave
beneath the weather's pressure.
I listen from bed,
beneath Mother's quilt.
I am safe and I am warm.
The storm lulls me off
into a deep sleep.
I dream of the ocean waves,
my childhood home.
Feeding
Late night rammblings
I can only overthink.
It's impossible
to find my lost thoughts
in the tangled web of words
spun to entangle
myself and my fear.
The anxiety spider
must be satisfied
at all costs, or else:
even my happiness and
fragile mental health.
I'm slipping, slipping,
until I feel nothing but--
Cold. Hard. Apathy.
Forgettable Conversations
Secrets for secrets;
one never tells a story
without a story
to trade them in kind.
So fill my cup, stranger, friend,
and I'll fill your ears
until Lady Moon
reminds us forgotten truths
we can't tell a soul.
Wander home, brother,
with words in your head you don't
remember hearing.
It Watches
Dark room, all alone
I can’t see it but I know
looking in windows
it observes me so
carefully, waiting, watching
seeing me through thin
transparent curtains.
Sometimes, when I see it’s eyes
I stare back at it.
It does not move, blink,
or turn away from my gaze.
I wonder why it
seeks for me, what it
is thinking as it watches.
I look away first.
Feeling anxious so I drew the anxiety rat. His name is Roy, he's a soulless bastard :)
It has been a time
since I've written poetry.
I ponder my words,
counting syllables,
remembering how to write
simple, meaningful,
expression of thought.
Little comes to mind, and yet,
I write anyways.
.
I write for myself
as I always have; speaking
in patterns, for fun.
