What Little RemainsThe lonely and forgottenWhat Little Remains by Medoriko
make beautiful companions
that share secrets most tenderly kept.
You linger like a compressed nerve,
bundled up in all my mangled parts
because I can’t snuff you out.
Rest in PiecesI am inadequate in the wayRest in Pieces by Medoriko
that our hands don’t fit together
as well as they used to.
But will you still keep me warm,
even after I’m gone?
Late Night MusingsThe deafening crunch of myLate Night Musings by Medoriko
heart caving under the pressure
is the sole reminder that I’m still alive.
Even though I wish I wasn't.
Manhood 101: How to Cope"We... lost dad-"
"Behind the couch!!??"
Thin Line“Isn’t this illegal?”
“No, just… forbidden.”
MilkI’m a gallon of milk. I lived in the dairy aisle until this afternoon when a woman came to buy me. I was so excited to finally belong to someone. I had a good feeling about her, too. She was very gentle with me, and she even put me in front of the shopping cart so I could see everything. I couldn't wait to get into her fridge.
We went for a ride in her car. I could tell that she lived far away from the store because it was a long ride. I was in a bag, so I couldn't see anything, but the music was nice and relaxing. She was a very careful driver, so the ride was nice and smooth. When she took me out of the car, I could see her neighborhood. It was very beautiful with lots of huge trees and houses. I instantly fell in love with my new home.
We went inside and she set me on the counter for a second while she put the butter away. Just as she was getting ready to put me in the fridge, a strange man busted into the kitchen. He wore a ski mask and all black clothes. I was con
New Tread from: LonelyGuy123"I'd
UntouchableHow dare I smile at her
With bits of forbidden fruit
Still lodged in my teeth,
Juices rolling down my chin
Like the lies I’m about to tell her.
How dare I speak to her
When the familiar sting of last
Night’s sin is fresh in the
Back of my throat,
In the front of my mind,
And now on the tip of my tongue.
How dare I look at her,
Without really seeing her.
Every glance is another fracture
To the mirage of stained glass arches,
Concealing dirty two-way mirrors.
Foggy and weathered, they lead not
To sanctuary, but to nowhere.
How dare I console her,
And remind her to look up, when
My very existence is proof there’s
Nothing there, my hand leaving
Paw shaped stains of crimson on the
Shoulder of her pretty white dress again.
How dare I miss her,
When my absence is better
For her than I could ever pretend
To be, my sacrifice, my pain,
My first step to salvation,
The only good thing I will
Ever do with my time on earth.
Like Forbidden LoveI shouldn't be here
The signs were clear
There's danger ahead
I'll wind up dead
The cliff's too small
So when I fall
It's not a shame
I've got myself to blame
painful memoriesher memory stabs me
like an icicle to the gut.
it causes my insomnia
and only lets me sleep
long enough to dream
about what we could have been
and why we can never
be anything to each other
but painful memories
hurtevery time i blink
a stream of tears
stings my cheeks
and falls like rain
off my chin
til it forms a spot
right over where my heart
had you not just
ripped it out
and left me to cry
on the train
like a dog
No BrainerThe library is packed, but you locate your friend in one of the study holes. When she sees you, she lets out an exaggerated yawn and stretches her arms out, emitting a slight whimper.
“Hey, are you ready to go?” she asks, looking at you through puffy, bloodshot eyes. Her desk is cluttered with textbooks, pens, highlighters, a laptop, iPod, chips, and a large coffee. All the ingredients of a last ditch effort to cram five weeks of missed class material into one night’s worth of study-time-extravaganza for tomorrow's midterm.She looks terrible, you think to yourself, she’s definitely not going to want to help me out right now.
“Not quite,” you admit, “I lost my coat.”
She looks at you as if you just asked her to stick her hand into a bear trap for you. A guilty feeling creeps up on you as you look into her desperate face. You are supposed to be rescuingher from the study-time-extravaganza. You think of how she waited
the steps to a suicideI
Prelude to an EpiphanyYou never gave a fuck before
But now you wanna start
Cause there's a lock on the door
And this gun is to my heart
It's too late to forgive
It's too late for the tears
If you really want me to live
You'd have listened over the years
I'm sorry is no excuse
Neither is I tried
Because of your abuse
An innocent girl just died
And now you're asking yourselves why
As you're looking straight through
Do you remember the times
I said can I talk to you?
Butterfly Poems in WintertimeWhenever I read
Butterfly poems in wintertime,
I feel like a failure.
And once I catch
I need a shot of something strong
For the pain
Of being willing to give my own summer
To keep the butterfly warm
But knowing that
I don't have one.