Spitting Fire.

Thoughts shutter and buzz,
Highs lift me to the highest mountain,
As lows drown me beneath the deepest oceans.

Cliché as it may sound,
I find bliss within every misfortune,
And shuttering thoughts soar.

Life on the edge,
Echoing risky images into my cluttered mind,
Dropping a note, adding a line.

Paper lanterns hang above,
Spiting fire onto mirrored gems,
Ashes falling onto molten glory.

Midnight dust,
Shattered glasses,
Open hearts and bloody masses.


*Wrote this poem out of nowhere. Just whatever popped into my head at the time, I wrote down. It doesn't really make much sense, but there is a story (that I can only decipher) behind it. :)

Down.

I couldn't seem to have a day
when sadness was all that consumed me,
but when it hit, it was as if the world crumpled away
and the stars fell, pushing me down...
Down....
Down...
Into an ocean,
that in the end,
will drown me.

I don't know
what I did
to deserve this.

All the pain,
misery,
and sorrow.

Death seems
so beautiful and
divine to me now.

I'm not saying
I wish to die,
not at all.

But I am sometimes
jealous of those who are,
those so peacefully asleep.

Not having to worry
about anything
seems so perfect.

I guess
I shouldn't fight
falling down...
Down...

Down...

Because one way or another,
I will eventually falling in the arms,
of yours truly,

Death.