DrownI need to drinkI need to forgetI need to drown my miseryI can't drinkNow my chest hurtsFrom smoking insteadI can't thinkMy head seems emptyLike my sober heartI want to screamTill my lungs give inAnd my life endsI need to drinkI need to forgetI need to drown my miseryI need to drown myself
Dark MemoriesWhen I see these scarsThe memories come flooding backI can almost feel the bladePressing against my skinAs the blood starts to flowHow can such a beautiful colorBe made by such ugly despairI can hear the knifeCalling out to meIt wants to drink my bloodTo take my life
Set Me FreeHere I sitStuck in a prisonOf my own makingIt comes to meWith a sympathetic voiceAnd saysAllow me to drink your tearsAnd I will set you freeFrom this cellIf only I knewI was exchanging one prisonFor another hell
Time To Be HonestMotherI have lied to you for long enoughAnd it is time for honestyI am not the perfect sonThat you think I amI have drankTill I blacked outI have smokedTill I’m sickI have cutTill I bledI have wanted to dieTo leave everything behindTo be my own deathThis may be hard hearBut I can’t stand the facade anymorePlease don’t blame yourselfThis is not your faultBut rather my own
PanicA hand is closing around my heartI can't breatheThe walls are getting closerHelpMaybe if I bleedYes, yes where's the knifeOne small cutAnotherDeeperIt's not helpingHelpCigarettesYes that's itI'll smoke one moreMaybe another after thatThis isn't workingHelpMake it stop
Smoke And DreamsThe smoke flows into my lungsLike an ancient spiritLooking for something to inhabitFilling my chestWith that familiar feelingSpreading through my entire bodyAs I exhaleThe smoke flowsAs water doesOver smooth rocksDrifting from my mouthInto the airDisappearing into nothingAs my hand moves to my lips againI wake upThat dream againAnd I thinkIf I could justHaveOneCigarette
TheRuinsOfMan IntroductionHey, I am Marco. I am from South Africa. I am currently in my first year of studying psychology. I am mostly self taught in writing, photography, drawing and painting. I started writing poetry a couple of years ago and I got the idea for my book The Fall Of An Artist about a year ago, but only recently started writing it. I find that sharing my works with people on dA has helped me improve and I hope that through this group I will be able to grow further and to help others grow as well.
TagTagged by: stichesBodyBagTtags Rules 1. you must post these rules2. each person has to share 10 things about them3. answer the 10 questions asked to you and invent 10 questions the persons you tagged will have to answer4. choose 10 persons and put their icons on your journal5. go to there pages and inform them they are tagged6. not something like "you are tagged if you read that"7. you have to legitimately tag 10 peopleWhat I have to answer.
Epilogue: The Truth Of Darkness.“Jason, how are thing going?” Michael asks.“Same as always. Lauren’s back and I’m no longer a serial killer.” Jason replies. “How are things with you?”Michael looks up at the clouded sky and down at the sand beneath his feet.“Another day at the beach.” Michael says and pauses. “I guess you heard that The Phantom is dead.”“No, he still lives.”“I killed him Jason.”“No Michael, you killed a man. A manifestation. The Phantom is an idea, or a demon. Call him what you wish but he lives on. Inside me. Inside you. Inside everybody.”Michael walks down at what would have been the last page of his book and reads the words to Jason.“Without madness there can be no art. Without art there can be no meaning to madness.”Michael throws the page into the fire in front of him.“Good-bye Jason.” Michael says and hangs up.He looks at the waves crashing on the rock an
BattlefieldThere's a war inside of mebetween my demons and my dreams.They use their guns and swords as weaponsto rip me open at the seams.Connect these dots like a picture,paint the canvas red.Drink it all down the sinkas I slowly drift in bed.Images of tomorrow,things never to be seen.Horrors played before mewith no one to hear my scream.There's a war inside of me,one that no mercy will come.They use their wits and comebacks,together we are one.Once I knew how to swim,but they've sought to drag me down.And they pull me below like anchorsuntil I slowly drown.They wrap their nimble fingerstightly around my throat.They smile as I suffocate,laugh as I start to choke!Those demons, they stretch me,break me, harm me, slice.My dreams have simply tagged along,freezing me in ice.They pick up razorsscissorsscrewdriversmore.They create music on the paleness,streaks of crimson weekly sore.There's a war inside of mebetween myself and who I used to be.They use their guns and
The Sybil I am the Sybil. I have a name. I have many different names. I have many different faces. I have many different minds. But we are all of the same soul. We are all the Sybil. Some of us are known only by this name. Some among us have never heard this name at all, except when it is whispered to us in our dreams. Some of us have danced with demons. Others deny that they are there. Some of us have held the Witch Child's hand. And, for some, she is our guardian. But always, always, in the back of our minds, he is there. First, as a vague idea. A blurred face without a name.
Forcing My Smile...Smiling was something that used to comenaturally and freely to me one time.Now it seems as if I have to force myselfto smile and laugh at anything these days...There are times when I feel happy butwhen I pause for a second I lose the happiness.I don't want a pity party when I'm upsetI just want someone to listen to me when I want to talk...When you ask how I am doing it's difficultto tell you I'm not okay and tell you exactlywhat is going on with me that's upsetting me.I'm not exactly comfortable with telling people that...I want to be happy like I was when I saw you again.I want to be happy like I was when I hugged you tight.I want to stop forcing a smile when needed and hiding.I want to find a way to be happy about life when it hurts...I love you so much and you make me forget my sadnessfor a time but then when you're gone I'm gone again...I don't like being so unhappy all the time but Idon't know how to stop forcing these smiles...I wish I could say that I was ha
AloneAlone is what I amAlone is how I do.Alone is how I can.Alone I make it trought.Alone I deal with pain.Alone I am true.Alone I am still sane,But alone I'm without you.
RedLoving her was like purple in the autumn sun.Loving her was like sweet sadness that had just begun.Knowing her is like throwing away a flower or two.Knowing her is like summer for only me and you.Loving her is goldenlosing her is red.I never thought I'd be heresaying this again.Loving her was all I ever wanted,and I'm falling.She was autumn and I was spring.Leaves keep changing and waves keep crashingevery day,every day.She was sunlight and I was rain,life goes on and we just have to change,changechange,and we are powerless to stop it now.Life goes on and we can't stop it now.Losing her was like a dead flower in the bright May sun.Redeeming her was like a hit and run.Missing her is like knives of silk and pins.Pushing her away is like drowning.Loving her is golden,losing her is red.I never thought I'd be heresaying this again.Loving her is all I ever wanted andI'm falling.She was autumn and I was spring.Leaves keep changing and waves keep crashingevery d
Cure to Your Heart-Cure to Your Heart-February 18th.Four weeks until the final exam.By now, the teachers had already prepared revision tests and guides for the students, but I didn't even bother to show up at class to take a sheet. Instead, I roamed around the empty hallways, not even caring about exams or graduation. I was hopeless, anyway."Ren, you'd better have a good reason to be lounging around in the hallway."I froze and spun around in surprise to see the school principal, glaring at me with her arms crossed, waiting for an answer."
The medical room, I have to go there," I replied, an obvious lie.She stared at me sternly for a moment before nodding and heading back to her office. The principal was always suspicious of me, maybe because of my irresponsible antics and the fact that I didn't look like a 'model student', probably since I never bothered to do my tie properly and I had bleached hair and tattoos on my arms and wrists, which was forbidden in school. I also always had a few br
VileVile words,Vile lips,Poison in each word,They shower them on her,Poisonous rain,Not letting her live, Not letting her die,Choking her till she fights for air,Choking her to near death,And begin all over again,Only giving her the want of death,But not letting her reach there
Self ImageI look at the reflection in the mirrorI'm appalled by what I seeThis monster I've becomeStaring straight back at meI don't recognize this creatureReality tells me that she is meBut I don't believe itIt just cannot beWhat have I become?Where did the real me go?I think I lost her in translationNow this image is my foeI abhor this demonShe's as ugly as sinFat as a whaleBut she's in my skinIt's a sense of disconnectionTo my outer designMy hope is that one dayThese two people will combine
Taste of Freedomdrunk, i wasairborne...Free on [scissored] frail legs.
LabelsLabelsI am a woman.I am a man.I am gayI am straight.I am bisexual.I am overweightI am skinnyI am anorexic.I am diabetic.I am fighting cancer.I am single.I am taken.I am a virgin.I am a slut.I am a murderer.I am a politician.I am a police officer.I am a member of a gang.I am a teacher.I am a student.I am a historian.I am an artist.I am clinically depressed.I am popular.I am a loser.I am rich.I am poor.I am insane.I am a drug addict.I am an athlete.I am
Teen MeDear Teen Me,It's been years since we last spoke on that indeterminable day (which neither of us can remember) where we stood at that invisible boundary (which neither of us knew about). You stood slouched, narrowed eyes; saw the inevitable approach of adulthood and flipped it the bird. You scoffed at responsibility even as you took on more roles and delighted in the uncaring lethargy of high school in the unknown rims of society. With uncaring apathy you'd swing back on your chair and thumb your nose at the world. You're a rude berk and don't deserve this but I have some friendly words of wisdom that you might want to hear. So park your arse on that favourite blue chair of yours and - for the love of God woman close Firefox! There is a time for Tumblr this is not it!I can remember how shy you were in early high school. Bright eyed, curious, not yet foaming at the mouth with sarcasm or scathing retorts for every occasion. It's amazing that I can still remember the point
Cut The SkinI want to feel the blade cut through my skinI want to see the blood flow from my veinsI want the hate to disappearI don't want to realise what I've doneI don't want to wear the scarsI don't want the hate to return