SpaceHey Blog URL:
https://blog.spacehey.com/profile?id=3813639
Category: Writing and Poetry
Kaleidoscopic vision and smeared paint senses I slide through static with blackout lenses Nothing can touch me, for I don't touch No blood to bleed or bones to crunch Voiceless, I echo. As shadow, I'm free Incorporeal as the mists over the salted seas Ink blotted on paper, I'm a fable given form Gossamer skin, moth eaten and torn Scenes dot my mind but none ever stick Silhouettes dispersing like ... » Continue Reading
— 2 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
There was always something about the quiet space of an empty car that comforted me. Sitting beside myself with the engine idling, its gentle and consistent thrum soothing the flurry of anxious shadows that would mire my thoughts. Even now, parked on the side of the road with my hazard lights blinking and traffic roaring past me- It was like my own little slice of nirvana. I nervously tapped my fin... » Continue Reading
— 2 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
Do you hear the bells? Announcing his passing on the day of his birth Twenty-six years of fear on this earth A weight on his mind, thoughts of no value or worth Chattering babbling that had returned him to dirt Do you hear the bells toll? A clanging banging of a dissonance most foul Announcing dreadful death and decaying flesh Meat soured, blood-dried, coarse and no longer fresh Flies circle him l... » Continue Reading
— 1 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
I never liked satin bedsheets. They're only cold to the touch in the first five minutes before they're sticky with sweat. After a night like this, you practically have to peel them from your hot skin. I squint my eyes and rub them aggressively, hoping the warm morning light peeking through her curtains would fuck off. I turned to glance at the fruit of last night's endeavor behind me. She lay on ... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
I used to think that love was supposed to be messy. Between all the gore and viscera, it was intimately vulnerable. You couldn't hide from the Butcher's eyes as they marked you into sections and sloughed away the bulk, revealing the tender bits beneath. They work you over, fervently sorting the pinks and the reds while draining the blood. How could one not feel it to be intimate? Its so... Raw. S... » Continue Reading
— 3 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
This mask is cracking. Am I allowed to ask for more? Than the exchanging of words, That are barely lukewarm. I crave your blue-gray eyes, To see me inside. And your elegant hands, Wrapped around mine. I want your parted lips, To whisper my name, In loving tones, so I can do the same. I want your soft voice, Of sugar and wine, To say that this matters. And to get drunk by your vine. » Continue Reading
— 2 Kudos
Category: Friends
I had a dream about you. I visited your grave yesterday. Its been too long. I brought your brand so we could smoke one together just like how we used to. I still remember our golden days. Sluffing away careless high school afternoons, watching you chain-smoke cheap cigs behind the gym, drawing pictures in the mud and talkin shit. I remember how you used to throw small rocks at my church from acro... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
What are we doing? I think you may have asked this question before I even thought to. While I could tell you of the churning in my stomach and of its hurricane that was born from the unfortunate realization that I am not the one you think about at night- I wont. I wont because I'd like this dream to play out a little longer. If I can help it- If I can stall this train from moving toward its inevi... » Continue Reading
— 2 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
I know that I'm sick. Foaming at the mouth and drooling with aggression. And yet. And yet, I swear its not madness that has taken me, but rather something far darker. Something far worse. My heart bleeds with watercolor hues, desperately aching for the touch of its master. Yank this damned chain through the fence so that I may be that much closer to you. Extend your hand and feed me those slender ... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
It's almost comforting in a way. Knowing that if I wasn't able to survive another night with myself, the sun would still rise. Cheap cigarettes, the sound of whiskey bottles clinging together, that last gasp of light just before the sun is overtaken by the night. All these things I have a subtle appreciation for- gone in a blink of an eye. Its not that the world doesn't matter to me, rather the o... » Continue Reading
Report User
