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 ^-^
Between Jobs
An itch in my brain
asks for something to achieve
but there's nothing left.
Reality slips
through the cupped palms of my mind.
I'd rather not Be
.
"be what?" I don't know.
I crave fantasy worlds and
you make me feel real.
Evaluation
Twitchy fingers dance
across the hardwood table
as I await the
inevitable
answer to my old question.
Stress crawls in my skin.
Hum a nervous tune,
to calm my anxious mind and
pass the ticking time.
Impulsive
A monstrous beast
tears into the walls with her
wickedly sharp claws.
She bites and howls loud,
destroying her safe haven
because she feels she
does not deserve to
feel love or comfort, or find
joy in little things.
She scares off her friends
to ensure they are safe, but
it leaves her alone.
Loud Silence
I scream, echoless,
into the infinite void.
There is no answer,
and I find myself
no longer with my voice, but
numb, inside and out.
Quiet Bedrooms
In the apartment,
the only roommate who can't
leave on the weekend.
Echoless
“Notice me!” I scream
to the empty, roaring winds.
There is no answer.
Stained Confidence
Deep breaths, in... and out.
Trembling hand, I draw with pen,
transform ink to art.
Terrified to be noticed, terrified to be seen,
yet terrified to die with nobody to hear me scream.
Do I want to be noticed, want to be seen,
or disappear in a crowed of faces lost somewhere in between?
Sleepless
I lay in my bed
impossibly tired, yet
mind still wandering.
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--
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.
Taking a snooze in a silly place
My name is Cat
And here I lay
I do not care
What's in my way
It matters not
If head is slant
I shall be sleep
On pillow plant
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.