Tag: writer

The Notes

On By rantandrave3In UncategorizedLeave a comment

The notes were from a good night. An entire pile of memories from an amazing summer. A summer that ended so abruptly. The notes and pieces of flower decorations became the memories of the disaster. They now carried with them thoughts of thrashing, screaming, and glass shattering. They now represent what had been lost. What I once had. They remind me of the betrayal. They remind me of the people who said they would be there forever. But their idea of forever stopped when the first thin went wrong. The notes remind me of friends who weren’t friends and warm summer nights.

I try to focus on the good now.

©C. O’Connor

A little bit of my darkness

On By rantandrave3In Rants, UncategorizedLeave a comment

My hands are shaking today. I hate the shaking. It’s like the set up to the downfall of my mind. The doors are rattling and everyone is screaming. The hinges have loosened and the cages holding in my demons aren’t as strong as they used to be.

My fucking demons are screaming at me.

They hate me. They’ll ruin me if given the chance.

But sometimes I wonder what would happen if I let them out. Would they really ruin my life or show me the life I could have? Could live? Should be living?

A little chaos could be good for the soul.

The bottles that hold my emotions are breaking. They’ve been packed in too tight. It looks like a mess in there. Be careful of the broken glass!

I’m losing myself!  OR Am I finding myself?

Was there really every anything worth saving? Is there anything left worth salvaging? I think my demons are laughing at me now. They know I’m losing it. That small bit of control I still had. Why am I so afraid of losing something I was never proud of to begin with? Was I ever proud of myself?

Rarely… only when I let the demons out.

©C. O’Connor 2016

#6

On By rantandrave3In poetry, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Stab me in the back to see if I bleed.

Stab me in the heart out of curiosity.

Rip out my soul to see if it’s there.

Hurt me all you want I truly don’t care.

What will happen?

If I don’t bleed

If I’m not hurt

If it’s not there

Do you think I am a lifeless machine?

Oh honey, I’m like nothing you’ve ever seen.

©C. O’Connor, 2016

Judgement

On By rantandrave3In poetryLeave a comment

Have you ever known the air in your hair

or the touch of harm?

Have you ever known the wisp of breath

or heat of the sun?

Do you know the middle place of heat to cold

or the prayer not to get too old?

Do you know the wish for peace in a world

lost to war?

lost to ego

lost to pay

lost to the amenities to get through the day

They are lost in their own minds

They are focused on their own grind

They don’t even see you

not me

not see

no fear no feelings

fight or flight is dumbed down

muted

no running

sitting duck, ready to be rocked

ready to be obliterated

ready to fall

down below

where no one knows

the air, touch, wisp, or heat

where no pain, feels, or emotions seep

there is nothing, all new

I’ve known this hell. I’ve thrived there.

Have you?

©C. O’Connor, 2016

Cleaners

On By rantandrave3In poetryLeave a comment

I’m gonna drag you through the cleaners

wonder if “deep clean” can fix your mess

can I bleach the grime and rust away?

when is the last time you used this thing?

or gave it some fresh air

or took it out for a spin

or felt anything at all

It’s a shame to let it waste away in here

does it even still work?

WD-40 and duct tape should get it going

… It explains a lot though

you’ve been reckless

apathetic

the world doesn’t exist

So, you’ve kept it locked up in here.

too long

let it waste and decay

No worries though

I can get the stains out.

I’ll drag you through the cleaners.

©C. O’Connor, 2016

#4

On By rantandrave3In poetryLeave a comment

My name is Darkness

My name is Fear

My name is anything that haunts you dear.

My name is Hate

My name is Cold

My name is all your nightmares hold.

My name is fixed

My name is all

My name is in every lost soul’s call.

I am here

I am there

I am within the darkest stare.

I am the shadows

I am the light

I am the thing haunting your dreams at night.

My name is forgotten

My name is unknown

My name is in the shiver on your neck when you think you are alone.

©C. O’Connor, 2016