DeuxiemeChance

You are caught in a triangle of doubt. Everywhere you look there is a faint blue umbrance that swells and falls. As though you were flailing in the disorientation of funhouse mirrors. You feel your pulse through your skin and your pores fill with excitement. Reflective windows are just what you're staring at. Staring back into you. Staring straight into you. And God. You look familiar.

I pushed record on the video camera you got me on my twentieth birthday. I pulled up a chair in front of it, and I stared into the lenses for an hour before I uttered my first word. You always told me that it was not the final word that mattered, but the first for without that first word how was the impact of the last going to be done? I put that bothersome strand of hair out of my face and behind my ear, and gave a toothy grin only for it to fall apart just as quickly as it sprang to being. "Hello." My arms shuffled to a subtle hug across myself, and my feet played with each other in a antsy jest. My fingernails were painted a yellow, t

Like a soft wind, your existence was to pass through the crowds and to please those of whom that were exhausted. Like a soft kiss, you were special. Dear Daydreamer, The stars will forever be your playground. The dirt you walk on and the air you breathe can turn fatal with just the closing of your eyes. Your existence is beautiful, Daydreamer. Everything is nothing when you had everything within your mind. The galaxies that are in your head play an uneven game. One of valour! One of courage and loyalty! But also of death and the angst of losing those you love. Oh, Daydreamer. How do you do it? You can build universes with a thoug

"Whisper" By: Ramsey M. Whisper, come here and whisper to me. These nights are rough, my love. Insomnia is screaming at me to stare at the ceiling for just a couple more hours. My phone is silent and you are too. The stars outside my window seem to be blending into the ink surrounding it. Nothing is stirring, everything is quiet. I miss you, love. I long for the electricity that hangs in between us when your fingers barely graze against my cheeks. It seems as though fortune ran dry, and I had to have my world thrown around. It's unfair that my feet can get tangled in the frigid sheets wrapped around me instead of being wrapped aroun

Wild Is The Wind By: Ramsey M. (Inspired by Nina Simone's "Wild Is The Wind") Love me, Love me, Love me. Say you do. Tell me that you are only mine, and that everything bad means nothing as long as that stands true. You are my love. My one and only true love. When you touch me, I am floating iridescent in a sky that helps me shine brighter. Our hearts, colliding together, creating winds blasting back anything negative. Love me, love me, love me. Please say you do. I am clinging tightly onto this image of us wrapped in satin sheets and you breathing on my neck. I am yours. Your one and only faithful servant. When I come back to y

To try to be his is to be accepting defeat. He hurt and he hurt, nothing in his mind but the search for lust. "Don't hold back." He knows he is weakness, and he knows he is mine. Just let me breathe. The channels of this heart can't take much more pain. Navy blue, boy. That's the color that reminds me of you. Dark, sad, and the memories of your eyes I need someone to make me bleed for revival. Someone to hurt me worst than he has, so I can let go of everything. Navy blue, boy. The color of my sorrow when you call me out for my conflicted affection. Just let me go, please. Let me find a new color.

Glitter Vomit Written By: Ramsey M. White diamonds clanging against the floor, Mommy hates her new ring. Popping pill after pill, isn't she going to choke? She used to hold on to her red teddy bear named Roy, but now she's holding on to this man by his bank. The stage, her second home, she put up plenty acts for him. Telling him, "Oh-how I love you so!", but always throwing up after each of his cigar-scented kisses. Baby Girl didn't mean to let you protect her, Mommy. A thousand drinks in, you were, when he decided for a easier treat. Someone who wore a yellow dress with polka-dots all over, pigtails and an ignorant smile. He gripped

Dancing nymphs in the ponds of crystal water. Requiem, sing for the dead boy. Hades opening its flaps of skin for the boy to wander into endlessly. To love is to live, and to live is to love. Hubris, look above the dead boy. Smoke swirling and pooling on the roof of the worn down cathedral. En flammes, la chorale chante. To die is to fade, but to be reborn is immortality. Knock. Knock. Knock. Death breathes in the chambers of your heart, stopping the crimson liquor from being pumped To let it go through your throat To let you taste it as your eyes close with a final cough. Knock. Knock. He whispers in your ear, Mort est arrivé

It's time for the fruit of my emotional labor to finally sprout into something beautiful. This bleeding, pumping gem in the center of my chest is finally giving me ink to write with. No more blood to write, but ink with a fine point. It is time for the raw poem to be planned. Awoken from slumber, I write my poems again. It's time for my second chance at a portfolio. Instead of blood-stained paper, I write with poise. Awoken, I breathe again.