TashaTyrant

I want it so badly, I can taste it. A few sips every now and then is enough to keep me going, but I'm left parched and aching. Aching for things I'll never have, and memories that will never be created. I look down at the puzzle pieces I desperately attempt to fit together, knowing it just isn't right. Out of place. Out of touch. Out of my mind. Is there a syringe to inject me with life? To wake up my comatose organs, especially my death bed heart? Maybe if it starts to pump blood of potential, my feet will no longer be planted on this dreary road. I'm enchanted by the song of sorrow, not always wanting but needing to break from its potent sp

Melancholy has been my faithful companion for all of this time, With neither one of us able to get off this doomed ride. Up and down and all around we go. I reach my hand out in attempt to catch it, To catch the blurred hope that whizzes by. My companion latches on to my shoulder to keep me in line, And remind me we are in this together. I’m getting dizzy from all of these thoughts crawling in my mind. I scream for life! I scream for death! I scream for every time I couldn’t. My companions grip on me gets tighter, So that skin breaks and the blood hits my face. I taste misery as it touches my tongue. We are reaching the end, But

Where did I go? Was I ever really here? Or rather just gradually slipping into nothingness? My thoughts are like bugs crawling around in my head, Eating me away until I’m merely a stub. Darkness looms over me to taunt me with its deafening silence, A language I know all too well. It inches toward me, But I’m much too numb to pick up my feet and run. I know living is not without pain, But existing gives such little joy. If only I could open my mouth wide and purge everything that is wrong with me, I would be curious to see what is left. I need to peel back my layers, And see if I’m more than this. I need to rip myself open, A

There was no reason for optimism. There wasn’t in that time, and there might not be now. My mind doesn’t free me of that horrendous image. The image of his crumpled body on the snow, as fresh blood defiled it. I used to cherish snow, but I realized at that moment that I would never look at it with the same eyes again. When it falls, it’s like he’s all around me, as if I need any more reasons for him to invade my thoughts. I guess I can be grateful that sleep is impossible so I don’t have to dream. I can’t even remember what a dream is like. I can’t remember what life feels like period, now that I am n

The repetitive clicking noise of the clock placed above the fireplace on a brown wall was hypnotizing, yet incredibly irritating. I tapped my clean cut black polished nails along the small glass of scotch I was holding. It didn’t belong to me, but I figured I’d help myself, since I was waiting for Mr. Walters to arrive at his house.  He’ll probably be in shock to find me in his living room. I wasn’t the one that made a deal with him; I’m just swooping in to seal it because the demon that bargained for the man’s soul got vanquished. Seems lowly of me to handle such matters, but I don’t mind too much.

My ears are craving to hear the words that don't add up to unrequited infatuation. These heart of hearts has grown to it's maximum size, and at any moment it will implode, the remains seeping out of every pore on my body. I'm in the dark corner of my mind grasping for an answer, for your thoughts. I have no recollection of how life was before you made an appearance. Every single image, every play back memory is beginning to leave me blind, so guide me with your touch. If I pull you inside, promise to complicate my breathing. See the empty spaces between my fingers? If your hand and mine should so happen to intertwine, I have no

I’m trying to put my thoughts on this paper without vomiting all over these words. I’ll force it to stay down, But if it so happened to come up, It would represent how I see you. I used to think we were so alike. The only thing we have in common is that we don’t have balls, But I’m sure mine would be much bigger than yours. You’re always full of it.  Maybe I should cut you open and empty you out, So there’s nothing left to hide. While I’m at it I’ll water your heart, Although it’s pretty dead. A bad judgment call is an understatement. I looked past the bullshit,

When I first met you, you were the ferromagnetic metal and my magnet heart wanted to be near you so badly that it forced itself out of my chest. It crawled its way up your leg, Stopping in the palm of your hand. That gravitational pull was my downfall, And I’m still falling down. Hansel and Gretel made a good point, So I’ll follow the bloody trail like bread crumbs in order to take back what’s rightfully mine. Each step is followed by a crunch and more blood, Because I’m walking on broken glass. This painful quest I’ve begun is taking too long if you ask me. I wish my thoughts would wash away my emotions instead