Popularity ContestI thinkPopularity Contest by TheEmptyChest
fame is an unworthy dream
like a candle
it only lasts until the wind blows
and then it’s off
for quieter pastures
for younger and more desperate hearts
and you’re left in the cold
wondering what you did wrong
and if you should have
seen it coming
Thoughts while stopped at a traffic lightCoexistThoughts while stopped at a traffic light by TheEmptyChest
in front of me says.
I’ve been hearing that word a lot;
it seems to be on everyone’s lips,
echoing from the history books,
skeletons screaming it from our closets.
It’s been said different ways—
“peace on earth”
“live and let live”
—but it always means the same
and no matter how many times
we say it, write it,
or stick it to our cars
it never calms our storms
or breaks those walls that separate us.
The truth is
we don’t live in a world of equals
but of societies marred by discrepancy.
Two cannot reside in the same house
if one’s human right
is the other’s “sin”—
if one cannot let the other
do as he will
and keep his own conscience.
When they say something's wrong with youI’m going to be shamelessly honestWhen they say something's wrong with you by TheEmptyChest
and say the more I see of life
the less I think it’s worth living,
because let’s face it,
it doesn’t truly get better
it just changes;
suffering and loss
are hurdles on a never-ending
that you’re expected to run
for the rest of your life.
And God help you
if you don’t want to run it
because that means something's wrong with you.
That means you’re crazy.
I’m going to be fearless
and say something that no one wants
to hear, or is likely to believe:
the “right to life” is a myth,
because to have a right
is to have a choice
and life is an obligation.
To want to end it
means you need “help”—
either in the form of a crucified savior
or an expert with a Ph.D. and an eagerness
to label you.
All it really means is that you
don’t want to run that damn obstacle course,
and you shouldn’t have to
because you were never given a choice
from the beginning,
modern hellthere's liquid dandelion skin drippingmodern hell by delirious-eyes
into my open mouth,
pouring over the crevices of my lips,
painting them golden sunshine.
the rest of my body is withering,
whispering in faulty breaths between sweaty bedsheets and
nightmares of devil-horned men.
there are eleven pm disco lights blushing
and radiating off of my sequin dress,
and as i look around i see women downing
glasses of jack daniel's,
crossing their legs with caution while weary-eyed
men with crackhead eyes kiss their foundation-
and i decide this is hell, dirty and superficial
and there is no such thing as people
who actually give a shit.
i woke up with the alarm screaming "nine-thirty."
late for my internship, late for a future of stacking papers
and biting my tongue at women with their inflamed egos
and skin overflowing from their red pumps.
i decided that morning we were all damned to hell,
each one of us biting our lips but not doing
anything at all.
and that was the real sin.
The Smallest Lights Once across a world, I clasped the summer night stars between sweet-stained knuckles and precious words needing no translation. Slightly open-mouthed and staring, I must have looked like a girl who had never seen fireworks before; to me, they were wishing-stars rebounding impatiently from flimsy mortal shafts. Wishing stars birthed in batches of dozens, but I was unable to think of even one thing that I wanted. Here, seated on a sturdy bench which stood steadfastly in the soil of a spattering island group that had carved its tradition and culture into the mythos of the world, I had already been granted a far-fetched dream. I had already begun my own adventure, and I was already in Japan.The Smallest Lights by drifter-dallyings
It’s the best thing in the world, running out of things to wish on. Clinging humidity of a Japanese summer might have stifled my breath a bit, but thought runs on a constant clear when you’re caught in such a moment.
“Do you like them?&
.a mother says to her son. by oaklungs
can you feel the world lodged
in your rib? do not tell
me you can't, it's right there
and let's not tell god
anything about this, let's give
him the silent treatment like
he's giving to us,
sometimes i wake up wanting
to shred myself into ribbons
tie me up in a bow and send myself
to your doorstep with no
return address and let you deal with it,
you're not listening and you're not
understanding, you're too busy
trying to read all the text, but
i can go days without speaking
one word, got a habit of holding my
breath diving into my own mind
for hours, blue bottomless pool
river veins with the bones of a dream
drifting through, some stuck on the
banks all dried up and thirsty, this
shark tooth reminds me of you so i
press it in hard, still not one single
drop, a baby raccoon floats by with
no life but wide eyes, i know you'll
pray the horned god sends him
straight to the sea, drown him out
with that voice that says maybe
next year when you search for
59 watchers left! Just 59 more to go and I’ll be done! Eee, I’m so excited!
I want to explain why I’ve been doing this, and why I’m so determined to see it through, because I don’t think anyone truly understands. I posted a couple of journals ago that I have Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), and one of its defining factors is inconsistency. People with BPD are very unstable. One day they’re goth, the next they’re punk. One day they’re neurotic, the next they’re laidback. One day they believe they’re basically good, the next they’re sure they’re fundamentally evil. It’s like being stuck in a rat maze, and it’s absolute hell. You never feel genuine, never quite your own person. You can say you’re going to do something and want to, truly want to, but in the back of your head you feel you can’t be trusted – because you’re not resolute, you're indecisive and impulsive – and so you live in a constant state of shadiness, of not trusting yourself, of fearing that you’ll let people down. And you hate yourself for it. Shame blankets itself around you and holds you in a dark place, and you just want to stop existing. Because not existing is better than living in shame.
This thing I’m doing – this going through my watchers and commenting on their work thing – has been a beacon of light to me. A small light, granted, but it’s made me feel like I can accomplish something. Like I can stick to something and see it through without being influenced or pushed – like I can finish something on my own, simply because I chose to finish it. It might sound like not that big a deal, and it might not be in the long run, but it gives me a sense of validation, and so it’s important to me.