blackenedcherri

just a phoenix, just a momentary monster. it rained under my skin again soaking out the fire. I've got matches in my hand desperately trying to restart the moments, the fires that were lost, and I drowned, drowned again in memories of loss and love. I still can't seem to get them out of my eyes, my mind, my head, these feelings tangling my strings tied to the cross of a puppeteer, invisible and waiting. Still, I hold, letting them overtake me for a moment while I wash my mind far enough to feel it rocked again in stillness. Shuddered, slow, shaking I itch for the release, the fire I need the warmth to breathe and burn these lies right ou

this fire is burning slowly in me of passion and tears and dreams and fears. this fire mimics my city- when the explosions rocked the world, the ricochet and reverberation created a crashing crescendo in me and my breathe held, let go, and held again. this heart is burning with more fuel due to the electric shock of fire, alcohol, a restful night, a body next to mind, and words of wisdom, kind hearts, and terrible people playing a silly card game with open eyes. the sense of love shocked itself right out of me. it was dead long ago, and the corpse burned away, now all that is left is fire, no longer choking on bad fuel but bad memorize a

just trying to find my halfway point with the keys that are beneath my finger tips run heavy, clicky, slow in their volume, their touch the genderless necessities of the day left me thinking too much and with that i will breathe my own queries away with time and rhyme and line after line from the mouth of a little lost girl trapped in an old soul away from herself. there is a halfway point, a line, somewhere around here i can feel it. it's just knowing where to look.

"i just wish I could, y'know, go back and do it all over again, high school on, knowing everything i know now. how different things would be, y'know? I could change so many things, be whoever i wanted to be, change all the bad things that happened to me." he sat, beer in hand, my friend from an inner lifetime, musing, then mustering clear, concise, almost resolved, "then you wouldn't be you. the experience, they made you. you'd have new ones to change you. i'd rather go through a lifetime of all of those experiences, all the good and the bad we had, then to never have them at all, being lost and different and not me, you, us." I looked- and

the second i feel like immovable stone; i stop breathing, being, believing. the second i see the light again; i feel like dying once more. my skin is cracking, creaking, fading fast and i am slowly, slowly, slowly slipping out from underneath the dusty, hazy layers of a time past to look at the skin anew, from my refreshed eyes and see what i gained and what i lost. there is a light i never saw, there is a thought i never did, there is a many person and self i lost in the process of figuring it all out. for a second, i close my eyes and breathe. i feel the stone start to crack, and i believe- i can feel a light, maybe even one day see.

there's something about not knowing when to change the point to helvetica and when to breathe in shallow sentences. there's something about not hearing a ring, a note, a voice and all that it can mean, and what it doesn't. there's something about not seeing the back of your lids for days and how exhausting and refreshing it feels to be free from nightmares. there's something about a phone call that can chill you to the bone when you don't know what to say and have only silence in your brain. there's something about breathing that no longer comes easy to me. it seems like an eternity between each breath, waiting, waiting for the phone to r

levels leveling out on a chemical level imbalance pulse slowing down and speeding up the methodic membrane of the insane neurotic steely cold pain of the mainframe locked inside my brain and pulsating throbbing and longing for a second of your lips and time while all lost inside the mind of a leveling out level on the chemical level lost inside the sleeping and alive brimming mind of a medicated haze once left behind that was lost in a prophecy of a second time in which karma paid back in full with interest so take a second and breathe repeatedly because that tattoo and the thought and the diagnosis will change until you find that y

it's all about the karma

spinning a little weave of my time and history in a place i thought i loved with the people i thought i knew only to later find out that the rose- filtered glasses glued to my face were really my own little perception of such a hazed reality that i really never saw the people who really never saw me its a funny thing, retrospective. it shows you all the little things that you thought you knew were big huge lies, and you're actually a less wholesome person than you thought you were and all the most precious of memories are tainted by my own little silly perspective, so one-sided by the restricted A-, AB, A, O blood of people i s

the pull its lessening ceased stressed released maybe today's the day i lose my inner voice (i always worry about it with these pills and tablets, that taste so bitter under my tongue) that my inner fire that fuels me to write create uncontrollably, dramatically, will die with a fiery, watery, grave. grave, isn't it. that these pills could fix me or kill me and that dying won't be so bad with a beating heart if i can survive the new rhythm. maybe that's what it'll mean to live, this time. this time, maybe, i'll see it through and the cottony stream of steamed out romance will die along with the passionate fire that burns me