THEMES THAT YOU LIKE
Set "Sidebar Image" in Theme-settings

Flies stick in hot weather
To sweat and skin
And other unimportant things
Red hair brings nightmares
I imagine it upon your face
And other irrational things
As if I am not miserable enough
This cigarette would be stale
Among other things
I watch flowers wither
The rose bushes lost their lust
And turned to wild things
These things I dream
Bring no peace
Keep me wanting different things


Show Post

When I woke up in the morning, my stomach was still sick, my tongue still tasted of vomit and my scalp was still sore from tugging at my hair. As if sleep would make me new, I know better than to believe that.


Show Post
22. July 2014

Your flesh is still stuck
in my teeth
Leaving no room to
let me breath
Stinking rotting and
taking up space
Right where you belong
Right in your place


Show Post
22. July 2014

At some point I stopped believing in you, I found it more satisfying to watch you burn than to watch you breath.

When I once thought of ways you fix you, I soon plotted ways to break you
And all that was love turned into miles of desert.

I began wishing loneliness upon you,
Nights alone spent watching tv,
Going to bed hungry with nothing to eat.

Praying to stars that turn to black holes before your eyes, swallowing all you had hoped for.

A shallow grave, no peace made, laying to rot and no one bothers to mourn you.

This is how I love you now, this is how we end.


Nothing.


Show Post
"

I pour myself a cup of coffee
the way I always take it
bitter and black
just like my heart

and I remember


The day before thanksgiving……. 1991…….. holding you…. in my arms watching your eyes….. open……. for the very first time
Feeling… the warmth…. and softness of your skin
Understanding….. finally…… what it means to love… perfectly
Imagining…… a life…… with you………that was never……. going…… to happen


I wish that I were with you to celebrate your day
though I’d cringe were you to witness
the man shaped massacre
that I’ve become

What presents could I give you
my precious, little girl?
Humiliation, self pity and heartbreak
are the only gifts I have to offer

Your mother wasn’t wrong
to take your little hand and run
as far and as fast
as her feet could carry her

It’s better you don’t know
this hazy, fading shadow
of the man I used to be

So I raise my cup and saucer
high above my head
to offer a toast
that will never reach your ears

Tomorrow’s for thanks giving
Today is for regret
Happy birthday, baby

wherever the fuck you are

"

Max Mundan, Rehab Stories: Happy Birthday, Baby

© David Rutter 2014

(via maxmundan)

(via maxmundan)

18. July 2014

She was not religious but
she prayed for me and when she touched my hand
l could feel the blood flowing
through her old fingers
Pounding beneath her protruding veins
With such a rhythm that almost
Became a melody and I hummed alone
As she sang
“Dear father in heaven
Watch over this girl
Fill her with your love
And kiss her eyes when she sleeps
Dear father in heaven
Bless this girl
Mend her heart
And give her health”
Her old hands that had seen
So much life and I believed her
And I left with her warm imprint
On my body and I thanked her
I thanked her and I will
Never see her again


Show Post

A tight grip around my neck
Heavy breathing in my ear
You do not feel the same anymore
What was warm now is cold
What was hunger now is fed
You have been gone too long
You have been gone too long
I am different now
No desire to count your freckles
Smell your clothes or eat your words
All I hear are sighs of disappointment
You know it too
You have been gone too long


Show Post

Words cannot
Express my nerves
Hammering tongues
Empty lungs


Show Post
14. July 2014

Mothers and
their lessons
Wisdom from
her womb
Break dishes
She said
Break them and
You will be new
All of my heartbreak
Manifested into
Fine china but
I never much cared
For the touch
Of polished glass
My anger
Is hard
Much like a stone
More fitting
I thought
So I threw it
Through your bedroom
Window


Show Post
13. July 2014

I never stopped loving him, even after they asked me to, even after he asked me to. In my mind it was never over, even after it was over, even after it died. I still wept and laughed for him, I still woke in the morning thinking of him and though I never said it out loud, I still mourned him. I dreamt of nights sweating in his room, bed sheets clinging to our skin, hands intertwined tightly and small kisses on the inside of thighs. I still miss watching him sleep, the way his chest would cave with every breath he softly exhausted, the freckles that lined his back and arms like road maps, the thick framed black glasses he would sit on his night stand when we crawled our exhausted bodies into bed, the jokes and sarcasm that easily flowed from his perfectly sculpted lips. I still ache for it all, how can one expect me not to? They can’t. It was— is, imperfect love, as all love goes. It is a love that continues to grow stronger in absence. It’s is love that made my sanity fleet away, carrying rational thought on it’s shoulders, love that makes me curse a god I don’t believe in and every person who told me it was going to be okay. It will never be okay, not while he is gone from me. Every night I dream of him, lasts nights was the worst. He would come to me, in an old abandon building where we met on the stairs and I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him between my legs, I could feel his warmth again, I could smell his breath and the salt of his skin and then his phone would ring. On the other end was a voice telling him to come home and he would, he would leave me. I beg him not to but he walks down the old staircase and as the door closes behind him it crumbles like ash, I run after him but he is no where. Just an empty city at night and I woke with the same empty feeling I have grown so accustom to. Everyday the thought of never seeing him again becomes more real but I refuse to accept such a sorrowful fate, such a deep gut wrenching path. I refuse to believe he does not love me anymore. No. Love is still here. It has to be. It is.


Show Post
12. July 2014

You were the most alive person I had ever met, always happy, always laughing, always loud. Everyone knew when you walked into a room, the air became lighter and when you spoke, the whole damn room stopped to listen. It was never your looks that attracted me to you, you never washed that long nappy hair and all you wore were slayer and iron maiden tee shirts but your demeanor was breath taking and it stole it right from my lungs every time I was with you. I remember that night we were sitting on the couch in your living room, smoking pot and talking about unimportant things and you said “I would never let science keep me alive.” I called bullshit and you stood strong on the subject. You always were a stubborn mother fucker. So when you got sick, I didn’t have the balls to ask you if you wanted to recant your statement as I watched you hooked up to machines delivering chemo. I knew the answer, I did not want to rub it in your face. I wanted you alive. Science was not enough to save you and the cancer was strong. How could it not be? It’s host was so strong. I miss you all the time, friend.


Show Post
12. July 2014

He was a hummingbird
Moving so quickly
You could not spot his wings
Never slowing his path
Never trusting my hand
He came as quickly
As he went


Show Post
10. July 2014

Screams inside your mind
Start to exist in real life
And you never escape
The shrieking, shrill of fate
That sends chills down
The pattern of your spine
Because what was yours,
Was never mine
And now it all seems,
All too real.
You find other things to feel
But they never equal wholeness.
You grow accustomed
To being alone.


Show Post
Those Unfortunate Maybes

Maybe I would feel better, if I knew you were asleep, somewhere, dreaming about me and maybe my mind would not feel so weak, if I could forget how warm you feel. If I could forget about all the times you kissed my thighs, my collar bone, my insides. Maybe my phone would not feel so important, like another limb, if I could delete your number and never hear from you again. OrMaybe, I should just stop believing that my life will go back to normal, accept that fact that you are gone and move along, maybe with someone new. Ormaybe I should just read you all these stupid poems I wrote, maybe then you would understand. God knows I am no good at explaining myself in words, out loud, without a pen. Maybe I should tell you about all the times I hated you, instead we sat in silence, your own mind smothering you. “Tell me how you feel.” is what you always said, maybe if I would have told the truth, I would not feel this bad. Maybe I should stop thinking about all these maybesMaybe I am just in love or maybe I am just crazy. Maybe


Show Post
10. July 2014

I promise to always wage wars
Between my brain and my heart
Until you come back to me
I swear to never give into
Rational thinking


Show Post