I think about writing more than I write, but call myself a writer as opposed to a thinker.
the sun and the moon sharing the same sky seldom meeting a tiring dance a semi-requited romance unhappy but ethereal all the same
By Ashley LimaExclusive • 2 years ago
the sands of time; a ticking bomb. drifting into nonexistence. whiplash in the passenger seat; venus mocking our mortality.
Wake up, wake up! We must take our leave. The sky is red with fire; It's getting hard to breathe. - It isn't that simple,
By Ashley Lima2 years ago in Poets
Expectations lining up outside the door with no one there to greet them. Curses muttered; pain between my shoulder blades, sore and tired from hunching over the keyboard.
Sat down in the pews of a cathedral Hoping I would feel something greater than myself. The only thing I felt Was the weight of the world on my shoulders
I mostly pretend to like the chore at hand, But I can't pretend that the juices aren't irritating the hangnail on my thumb.
I bought a new keyboard Hoping it would fix the problem. But even the round buttons And the clinking, glopping sounds Don't satiate the hunger for more.
blackout curtains; close the blinds. hide in plain sight. call my line, and i'll end it before it begins. it's easier to pretend
Grey matter Splatters Pink blast Shatters The glass china on the wall behind. Wretched, hellish, watching, jealous; The end of a revolution number 9.
disappearing beneath a canopy of vines; watching the water as it trickles by the mirror hiding in the depths of vengeance.
monopoly pieces fly across the room i wonder, how often does a board game end in tragedy? is it a predetermined malady
I didn't commit to this challenge. A poem a day, I did not pen. But I got right back up, I'm not stuck in the muck, And I'm ready to try it once again.
