I have friends who trade facts for fiction, while I have lived in the past, trying desperately to see something that isn't there.
I have friends who live their lives in fantasy books, while i spend mine in brutal stories of reality.
But this does not mean i have not contemplated living in false truth. Because when you live in the painful suspense that is life you are left with people who tear you apart.
They rip your flesh like you are a doll, pulling of your arms until you are nothing but a pile of ripped stitches and torn fabrics and destroyed body parts because people are terrible, and people are hungry, and you are not safe here so you run and run but they grab that loose thread that unravels you until you are nothing but stitches and destroyed fabric.
but they do not stop there because they are still hungry. they still eat you, and hurt you, and leave you to die and then you try to move on and try to forgive them but they are still hungry.
they stay and eat at your flesh until all that is left is the tearing quiet that is death.
but
they
are
still
hungry.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryA collection of short pieces of writing/poems that I've written through the years and decided to publish. WARNING: MAY CONTAIN BRIEF/DIRECT MENTIONS OF SUICIDE OR ADDICTIONS
