[x]

Lovelove

Someone asked me what is love
is it good, is it bad
is it awesome, is it terrible
I honestly didnt know how to answer them.
I finally desided love is the most complicated of all emotions
Love is kind
love is harsh
love is wonderful
love is terrible
love is a cure
love is a sickness
love is LOVE
love is hate
love is meaningful
love is pointless
love shows the best in people
love shows the worse in people
love makes us speak truth
love makes us lie
love understands everything
love confuses everyone
love builds your life
love tears your heart down
love makes you smile
love makes you cry
love makes us cuddle
love m

SuicideSuicide... they call it sin
They say it is a death in which no-one wins...

They encourage you not to do it, they say it is wrong...
But who is there to encourage you when you can't be strong.

You feel like you have no-one, not even a friend.
No shoulder to cry on, just one last letter to send.

tragedies - collab.you deserve all the cobweb dreams,
fairytale hopes, and explosive love
in the world, but i know that i
will never be the one
to give them to you.

you need notes that end with
'ps - you're brighter than
twenty-seven silver stars'.
i can't bring myself
to write them, though.

it's not like you'd read them,
anyway.

i cut out paper hearts and
dreams and gave them to you, but
you only ripped them up and said
'these aren't good enough.'

when i painted you a picture
of golden skies and sunshine smiles,
you handed it back and told me
'next time, paint realistically.'

so i wrote you a story
filled of starless nights and
hopeless d

the speed addictthe speed addict knows if he stops moving,
he will die. so when inertia takes hold
his heart falters and his head slams against
a future, lit by the dashboard. he hears
his veins stuttering like gears grinding out
a staccato refrain, while the wheel spins and
goes numb. as his breath twists away from his grip,
rasps a hollow plea, he slides on a rail
towards impartial angels leaving rainbow sparks
in his soaring wake, and meets blazing lights.
the addict dies twice. one is nev

I..I..

I hate the way you smile
The way you wear your hair
I hate how you know I'd drop it all
If you said you care

I hate how you massacre my thoughts
And run rampant through my brain
Destroy the monotony my life blocks
and drum the rhythm of the rain

I hate how you spoke to me
And said you love me with those eyes
I hate how I knew it'd hurt
and hated more when I saw you cry

I hate how our shot was so short
Lasting only through the fall
I hate how I can't stop thinking of you
Because I could never hate you at all

heart song.this is the song
to your heart.

listen.

-

part zero.
oh, dearest,
why are you locked inside
a bathroom stall? no one
to hold you, tell you sweet
lies and say you are
beautiful, say you are
perfect? it's not the end of
the world, not yet. if it was,
wouldn't there be
fireworks?

-

part one.

sleeping.

your heart is not yet
dead; please do not
say it is. if it was dead,
it wouldn't hurt this
much.

your heart is only sleeping.

-

part two.

when the only melody in your head
is a break up song, and the only thing
your heart seems capable of doing
is twisting itself into knots, and the only
thing you want to do is hide a

DementiaThe old man sits with stooped back.
The room is cold, just like his hands.
Thoughts have wandered like small children.
He wonders if he will see home again.

Thoughts have wandered home again,
with stooped backs and cold hands.
The room sits with the old man.
Like small children, he wonders if he will see cold.

Back stooped with thoughts, he wanders.
Like a child the small room sits, wondering.
Home again is cold.
The old man will see with his hands.

Thoughts have wandered with stooped backs.
The cold hands sit with the old man.
He wonders if he will see like small children.
The room is home again.

you can't feel through fabrictonight the rain becomes the earth
falling from hidden spaces in the sky and swollen clouds
i hear it make mud of dirt, and lovers of friends
and ask, quiet, where are you going but down?

i’m not all there in the head
you’re not all there in the head, my mother says
i’m not all there in the head i repeat
sometimes i’m there in my toes and fingers and heart as well

and now - in this downpour moment- i lie on the street
so warm that i think well that’s where love’s gotten to
but where is your shirt n? oh someplace else
and is that a light flickering in the house across the road? hide!

i rush in soaken w

A Beautiful ThoughtOh, we're so brilliant, aren't we?
We're so freaking lovely.
We're filled with glowing rainbow pride
And we're so pretty it's ugly
Our self-made wounds throb with beauty
And you'll paint your face with hypocrisy

We're everything we're believed to be
We're saviors and artists and celebrities
We're gulping down ego and inhaling pride
We're gestating self-worth in our insides

We're icons of envy to all of our peers
Self-assured by attention attained all these years
I'm something you need and something you're not
She's almost so hideous that it's something I want

But I did say almost
(But you did say want)

Oh, we're such liars
It

This PainTears roll down my face,
As I cut myself,
To release the pain.
It hurts so much,
But feels so good.
The pain is draining from me,
In drops of blood.
As I watch my pain leave from me,
I think,
"How can this be,
That I have so much pain
When I'm only merely 16?".
Then I remember the past that I've had,
Memories of yelling,
slamming doors,
all the awful scars.
I've cried too much,
I've hated so many,
That I don't think people will ever get me.
I come back from my world of thoughts
And realize that I've bled too much,
It's all over the counter,
It's becoming messy,
But I don't care.
I just want this pain out of me.
I'm

Sunday in the Kitchendear mother,

i ask you how far we are from heaven.
hunched over the sunday paper like a patient gargoyle.
your eyes blinking too often, and tongue snaking
around in your mouth, as if the answer is hidden between your teeth.

dear mother,

you hum holy bars in the kitchenette.
say "hallelujah means praise yahweh, praise the lord"
say "angels must rest on the tongue of that word"
say "angels, oh angels hallelujah, hallelujah, rest in me"

but you haven't slept in weeks.
i hear you sob sigh into the night like a prayer.
like your table lamp is the closest thing to heaven-gates.

dear mother,

sometimes i still wish i could pray with you

Let's Hate
Age 11

We met in a room full of crowded people
who knew my name
they knew my face
and they knew things I didn't
Most people there knew his parents
and that was about it; the knowledge ended there

He said, Come with me
and I said no
I made friends with social rejects
and I made enemies with people hard to avoid
We kept in touch
But only

Depressing PoemsSorry --

What if she died?
And at the funeral her parents told you,
"You could have saved her from herself."
How would that make you feel?
And that night you went home
Sat in your room alone
And killed yourself
Just to be with her again and tell her
"I'm sorry."

Friends --

Why do people try to help me?
Do they care?
I guess they do
But all I do is hurt them
Especially Sarah
She keeps trying to help me
But all I do is push her away
She's my best friend
Why can't I just let her help?

Emptiness --

What if I died right now?
How would you fell?
Sad, depressed, torn apart?
Or would you feel nothing,
But an empty place that

when i look in the mirror.one.
things you touch turn silent.

hearts can be blacked, burnt, ashy - but you take the ashes and burn, burn, burn them until there's only a memory left, a memory that's all edges and icicles.

you leave me cold, empty and
i don't want to breathe anymore.

two.
'darling, you would do well to remember-

you can't have a light at the end of the tunnel
if you have no tunnel.

darling, you would do well to remember -

you are not empty. you are not empty.
[it's still hurting, after all. it's still hurting
and you don't want to live,
but you're not empty.]

darling, you would do well to remember-

they love you. they love you,

they love

ocean burning.one.

before she met you, she would reach for the sun while standing on the branches of trees, arms stretched towards the sunlight, reaching and waiting.

now, happiness is like a summer memory in the dead of winter - still there, but fading too fast to hold onto. now, she sits on rooftops with you at night, and the two of you watch as the city lights go out one by one.

two.

sometimes, when you laughed, she was reminded of the wind rushing through trees in winter - melodic and beautiful, but still cold, unforgiving.

the two of you watched the waves of the ocean take away the beach, piece by piece.

you were the waves.

she was the sand.

t

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Witching Hour

by ~fukaimoriMidori, Mar 16, 2008, 12:11:45 AM
Literature / Poetry / Experimental / Other

Stacks of books piled up high
Glinting titles in the bleeding light
A hundred pencils scattered around
A girl sits at her desk feeling down
Sand's running out, no time to think
She picks a pen and begins to ink
Music flows from her headphones
As worries go, so does her frown
An hour flies, and then two
But there's still so much left to do
The sky's begun to pale and pink
The birds wake up and start to shriek
And then the alarm starts to ring
She switches it off and feels nothing
It's too late the magic's gone
Shattered by the awful sound
Ome more morning of the quiet dream
One more morning of the moon's beams

Witching Hourby ~fukaimoriMidori

Literature / Poetry / Experimental / Other

©2008-2013 ~fukaimoriMidori

Yay, I finally managed to write a poem!

It sucks though... So yeah this is me when I'm in serious artist mode.

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

Mood: Love

~AzraelDarkAngel540 Mar 26, 2008

this is good work if it is your first poem.. i like the imagery... rhyme may be a bit shaky (with the exception of the final couplet, i love that) but again this is your first attempt.. Why don't you try free verse? If you'd like can you pls have a look at my work?

Thanks and good luck!

Reply

~fukaimoriMidori Mar 28, 2008

Thank you!
No it's not my first, but this is definitely my worst. (Creativity can't be forced, darnit!

)

Reply

~AzraelDarkAngel540 Mar 29, 2008

hehe, of course you cannot force creativity...

Reply

~fukaimoriMidori Mar 29, 2008

Now why can't teachers understand that?

Reply

~AzraelDarkAngel540 Mar 30, 2008

that's because some of them are not creative themselves!

Reply

~fukaimoriMidori Mar 30, 2008

Reply

~Red-Dragon-Tamer Mar 17, 2008

This is really good! There is nice rhythm and flow, as well as details. This is really good! Don't be so down on yourself k? XD

Reply

~fukaimoriMidori Apr 26, 2008

Thank you.

Reply

~Red-Dragon-Tamer Apr 26, 2008

Reply

~BellaKasumi Mar 16, 2008

Good imagery, but the rhyme kinda gets off and so does the rhythm. Interesting, tho! nice work

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