topsecretstuff

Like a ragdoll, I sit there, Leaning against the wall, My legs lay flat on the floor, In a dark room, quiet. A cold silence fills the lonely music room, Nothing dares break the silence, but the continuous and repetitive strumming of the bass that sits on my lap, A dull sound, a slow and boring tune, Broken leads aid the silence's domination over the dark room, The amplifier turned down low. Drumsticks lay on the floor, Lonely and untouched. My eyes wonder through the room, To the old, beat-up drumkit, A part of me wants to just restart, To try again, The dominant part just sits there on the floor, With no energy to move, N

How I feel doesn't really matter, As long as I help you, Because you're in pain. How I feel doesn't really matter, Because I am fine, it's You crying in vein. How I feel is irellevant, As long as I don't stay, All day in my bed. How I feel is irrelevant, As long as I clean up, And the boys aren't dead. Then suddenly... How I feel does really matter, You expect me to just Tell you how I feel. How I feel is relevant, You didn't care before, So what's the big deal? When you rise, I'm falling down, Why didn't you help me? No matter how loud I shout, You won't listen to me! Why should I bother? It doesn't matter! How I fee

Brilie and I, Have so many similarities, We have more similarities that I thought. We have a similar taste in Music, fashion, movies, even our hair is similar. We both love wearing layers, And prefer cold weather over hot. Her birthday is one day after mine. When we write or draw, we don't even know what we're doing. We're both vegetarians, We think that the whole class is stupid, Our work is too simple, We liked the Slender Man before his popularity. We're both chocoholics. We're both anemic, and mildly autistic. We're kind strange, weird, creepy, eccentric, a bit dark. This list could go on forever. As we sit in class one d

I was born one cold night, Next to the snow, stars shining bright. Now I feel like that snow is still inside, As if a vital part of me has died. My heart remains frozen cold, Today's lies are already told. My gift to the world outside, "It's okay, I'm alright." An empty void where my heart should be, Nobody there to pull me to safety. Into nothingness, I'm drifting away, Evanescent butterfly, gone with the day.

Pressure pushes into me from every angle. They watch me, in hope, That I'd just try. Thoughts race around my head; Should I run for the door now? Do I just sit and watch them instead? Or do I suck it up and just do it? I constantly think of reasons why and why not. The pressure is pulsing through my veins. I can't explain why I can't just do this. Maybe it's just nerves. But I don't want to let them down either. "C'mon! Just do it! It'll be fine! We wont judge you!" Raced along wth the other thoughts as they said it. "If you don't, you'll feel like shit afterwards!" "U-uh... we should get ready for class!" I stuttered as all t

Lost in my personal hell, I walk further, Don’t know where to go... The wind is calling my name, I follow its call... Trying to forget the past, I keep running, Dreaming of the day, I will see them again...

I am a reflection in a shop window looking at the world outside through opaque lenses dotted with rain drops and yellow orbs of distant street lights in a city reduced to slow motion breaths and side glances I am a glass of watered down brandy (cheap because your pockets aren't as heavy as they used to be) at the end of a 9 to 5 day, reducing reality to a haze of jazz records and slow dancing, shifting back and forth on your feet- left, right, left, arms loosely hugging your waist as the world comes to a stop and gravity tips the odds in your favor (for once) I am a restaurant on the far side of town, that post-depression building on the co

The aroma of calla lilies, burnt wax and Chanel No˚5 filled the air. The muffled sobs in the distance filled my ears. The foul taste of formaldehyde occupied itself on my tongue. I question why I cannot open my eyes. Why do I only hear, smell and taste what is going on around me? My once youthful body has now rotted away into a frail withered carcass. My brittle joints cracked like a breakfast of scrambled eggs and crispy bacon. I attempt to open my crinkled eyelids again, only to find that the eyeballs that once lay inside them were gone. Liquefied plastic was all that remained. Darkness, nothing but sheer darkness was there around me.

You are my unwanted fuck. You are my new cuts. You are the pain that lives in me. You stabbed me to d eath with the tears that break my heart. You are my hardest battle, my nervous tick, my starved stomach. You are the root of my problems. You're the devil who cut up my angels. Let me escape your heavan. Your lips against my face almost feels like a fun. It feels like a gun.

Keep it out Out of sight Out of mind Even if if really means Keeping it all in

Imagine if your body had a switch. If you had a separate control for movement, air, sensation and pain…and inevitably emotion itself. What if you could turn off your heart's beating, freeze into an unmoving sculpture of deadly stillness, with not even a blink to betray you? What if your mind wasn't confined in the tiny space of your skull and you could send it out laughing and running, or chasing and killing, as far as there was earth for it to discover? That would make the body merely a tool for storing memories, for speech, for touching and feeling touch. The consciousness of your body would be a living thing without the need of skin to ch

For a fleeting instant she lighted up inspiration's light A fleeting instant that opened immortality's pages The ideas were flying around And in some moment the frustrated ideas started to disappear. Like paper balls they lay in a sea of ink That expected, that waited Impatient for the coming of an illustrated mind That with its tides could capture eternity Words that grab immortality And the stored ideas, coiled Slowly accumulating dust Slowly fading Being swallowed by the black ink of the emerging ones Some more… worn, burned Are those traumas, those that engender the ideas Those that feed them, wrap them, embrace them And y

Why will nothing hide The jumbled distorted truths I've come to despise?