Poetry Blogs (disorder)

This bed it is a bridge
Of what is real and fantasy
I despise reality 
I'd rather keep dreaming
Where I am free
To be alive
Where I will thrive 
And my heart can be
Free from knives 
I will not cry 
I can not feel 
I stay in bed to escape what is real

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Don’t remember the time

When the number on the scale was infinitely less.

Don’t remember the time

When your bones were months away from dust.

Don’t remember the panic

Inside of your chest

When the white porcelain rose goosebumps

And you failed to protest-

The one thing you should have been fighting for;

You stubborn, foolish, arrogant girl.

Don’t rememb...

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nothing amiss only

everything askew..

scatter patterned random

walks suspended in static liquid.

touch your finger to the

surface..a ripple and a flutter

to breach the calm within

now watch as dull dust gathers

'round the one who's so disturbed

a still entropic state.

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