poetry oneshots

empty

a/n: i wrote this sometime in july. please be gentle.

empty

empty

empty

empty

empty

grey

alone, for the second time today.

step by lonely step

on smothered grey skin and stifled concrete lungs

empty hall alleys resounding with corrupted silence

get off your phone, for god's sake! you'll walk into a stone hard pillar!

stone slabs painted black, green, white; no one saw the quiet fade and shadow retreating into empty shells; everything went

grey.

she walks by

i don't remember her name.

i can't tell if her eyes are glimmering with sparks of hopeful recognition; in fact, she might not have eyes at all. no one has eyes unless people care to look

but she lifts her head and for a second mine feels lead-weighted, guilty

stop thinking so much! stop being so whiningly piteous!

they won't shut up, i can't make them and i don't know if i will be able to for as long as my brain throbs halfheartedly,

(oh what a beautiful curse i've been blessed with.)

i look away, quickly averting my gaze

lest it gets unnecessarily pierced with perilous complications

i turn, and i

grimace

you're a horrible person.

but i don't want people right now. (when do i ever?)

people are too much for me to invest in right now, people have always been too much

loud loud voices, and i cannot ignore them now because

oh here we go, you're eating your head out again

i lift my hand. it hurts.

i'm sorry i need to be swaddled in quadruple-layered cotton skins to feel secure.

hugs are hard to come by, and artificiality is my best friend:

hello, and have a good day.

stop wearing that jacket, don't be ridiculous! it's so hot!

entertain for a second the precarious thought that i like the heat.

you are more charismatic than you think.

i love the ultraviolet embrace and melting into a molten puddle of confusion under the glare of replaceable warmth

ice bites my skin but the frosted breeze is too cold for your flimsy cuticles; i'm sorry

that my neurons have learnt to talk themselves out of verse and image just so your hangthread logic still stands. (to what agony do i owe this apology? it's long overdue but i keep sending it to the wrong address)

hypocrite.

my head will hurt from the thrilling magnitude of nothingness buzzing inside it. (cries, hollers, where did you go?) empty. empty. empty

so snow, turn your blazing face and look away from me because

nothing, nothing can tear me away from my perennial warmth

petals, stop shaking your beauty in my sunburnt eyes; i have nothing to see anymore

stop stop stop smiling at me

i will not smile back.

i am in my golf cart and i am on top of the world

someone get her help.

someone get me help and get me off of my soapbox, because i don't deserve to preach hollow axioms.

i am a security breach, just terribly misengineered but too stocked with cowardice to wreak havoc in your manicured data

this cowardice is cowardice but this cowardice will not be silence.

so don't be scared of me be scared for me

be scared for what i will become

be scared for your chilly carbon samples and the price you paid for them

because i will not like it (i will not like it at all)

but there will be nothing i can do

and it will

all be

it will all be on you.