Tag: anxiety

My Name

~ Lauren Nicole ~ Leave a comment

I don’t need you to call my name to summon me from the depths of hell

In blue-black flames I listlessly dwell, wide awake just for the sake of staying warm.

Remember, December is never far away, and yet it’s been ages since I’ve seen the languid drift of snow

It melted away with all I used to know of your voice, your escape, your sordid show.

I don’t need you to call my name to douse the flames of hell

I’ve come to know them very well, more than your deceitful, demonic spell.

The dark place where you dragged my soul is only a curse if I make it so

I’ve come to peace with death and darkness, with hate and pain and years alone.

Instead, I watch in the glimmering lights as my shadow pirouettes across the floor

Light as a feather, dead as the earth, joyous as the sun, lovely as the moon

Glowing with the fierceness of the sun at noon, I delight in that I won’t hear your voice call

My heart became a rainbow after an endless tear fall

My name is not for your lips; it is for my final and joyous withdrawal.

Malingering

~ Lauren Nicole ~ 2 Comments

I tip toe over broken glass with the same meticulous pace that I distance myself from a broken heart.

One and one don’t always align, and I fear the sound of shattering from a pair mismatched. Like magnets, only the opposite sides attract, but when pulled apart, a bit of myself leaves with you each time.

Under planetary bodies, rising sun and waning moon are no match for the tides that move me pensively in your direction. Were you any more poisonous, I surely still would long for just the slightest taste and suffer the lasting bitterness.

The home of your arms is lined with brambles so shallow they only pierce my skin. Alas, my buoyant heart rests at my surface to bask in the heat in your eyes – vulnerable for those thorns to pierce.

With closed eyes I meander around sharp debris, heart still aching, hoping that things will change. The scars haven’t faded, the pieces of me have not regenerated, and though in my latent pace I hope you return to me, I know that I’m shamefully malingering.

My Theology.

~ Lauren Nicole ~ Leave a comment

I believe in an attentive ear that seeks the somber sound of crying in a dark and sightless night. The truth in hearing and believing a life beyond one’s own beating heart is a religion of its own. If faith is mandatory, I’d rather believe in the pensive mind that yearns for justice; a law not written by man, but inherited millennia ago from the sky.

As you believe in God, I believe in a love for life so strong that no small flower be set to a flame. My deity is the beauty of an unkempt green valley, and the dandelion seeds that form clouds upon the horizon in a hot summer gust. As you believe in angels, I believe in the mindless creatures that roam the world with hope in their hearts of falling in love – those silly things are so romantic, they brim with more hope than could ever be discovered in a mine filled with diamonds.

Your belief in heaven is comparable to my belief of a sunny afternoon under a pale blue sky, somewhere far away from the city where I can hear the cicadas and the bullfrogs. There are no gates here, just a noisy silence that raptures me in a way that no psalm ever has. I can read catharsis from the cumulus clouds, or hear a chorus in the little things that live in the loam. What we have in common? We both call our heaven our home.

But what about hell? Well, I don’t believe that exists as long as there is another day. For there are days, nights, weeks and months that I lie awake with teary eyes. There are days that I wish I could simply stop my heart-beat on demand. The heat under my skin is comparable to the literature that describes the underworld, I suppose, when I feel this insatiable need for something, for anything to bring a chill to my fiery anger, or my branding sorrow.

Although I know that it won’t be for ever. Each time I watch the clock, and the arrow hits one minute prior midnight, I know that shortly there will be another day. As the seasons shift their way around the cyclical conundrum that life is made of, one spring day I’ll see my deity, one summer day I’ll fill my heart with hope.

Even in the season of the dead things, the fallen leaves remind me of the hearth of a cozy home. Though I may brood alone, I know that 11:59 is the truest worship time. Idle and fatigued I bide the time, the sixty seconds that always drags my atheist heart out and gives it a moment to practice religion – one second at a time.

Within an Echo Chamber

~ Lauren Nicole ~ Leave a comment

A voice so small bounces off the walls

Little whispers, honest lies, I can’t quite hear them all

Gaps in transmission and drops in modulation

All I have are garbled murmurs

Bits and phrases I have my way with

I need you to say this

You’ll never change, you haven’t lied

But I need to be whole inside

You’ll change for me. You’ll be every thing I need

If I want to feel fully alive

That’s not what you said, but it’s in my head

Your voice making me sweat and shake

I need to hear it loud and clear

It’s only for my aching heart’s sake

Be you, but be true, and be only mine

And see me through the darkest of times

When I can’t hear, you disappear

Though you repeated yourself aloud

I did not hear you say good bye

I did not want to hear you say good bye.

I haven’t learned my lesson

~ Lauren Nicole ~ Leave a comment

A rush of blood through the veins

A bolt of lightning to make the heart beat again

Hot tears simmering against eyelids

Cold drops of sweat on feverish skin…

Oh, what I would give to feel again.

I gave heartache the longest break,

A thin layer of frost coated my skin

And I placed chains on all the bits of me within

That ever longed for love.

I clipped the wings of that captured dove

Soundproofed the glass to stifle her song

I doubted I’d miss it after so long,

But now I can’t even recall the sound.

Now, I don’t miss your mischief or your mistresses

I long for steady heart-beats and only tears that accompany a smile

Hope has yet to seem worth-while,

When I remember cold and lonesome December

When ice and snow trapped me with no place to go

Your arms twice as cold, the novelty of me so old

In your fickle heart.

I do dream to the sound of my favorite song,

Of breathing normally after so long –

Inhale, exhale and carry on

With no drugs or no alcohol, just faith in love.

A rush of blood all through my face

Electric pulses resuscitate

Heat of the sun when it’s finally May

Cold chills of excitement; heart, don’t hesitate.

Oh, what I would give to love again.

 

Oh Star, Die Tonight

~ Lauren Nicole ~ Leave a comment

Upon a glowing satellite I make a morbid wish tonight

With teary eyes, I hope to make a pagan sacrifice on her life

I’ve never seen a star fall, but I confuse the flashing lights of jets

In the midst of their midnight flights, but I’m disappointed by yellow lights

Hear me, clearly, white plasma being in your angelic glow

Fall down from your reign and ease my pain

Use your thousands of years to alleviate my fears

And take your brilliant heat to melt things frozen in my memories

Not unlike you, I want to be born anew

I can’t fight the hurt and lies that have passed before my eyes

I can’t wear away the scars that speckle my skin like black stars

But you… lucky you, you still shine true through the darkest dusk

You have no surface to be succumbed to rust, to negligence or dust

Though in time your flames will explode and you’ll be mine

You’ll fall so rapidly, your tail will spread for miles against the sky

And I’ll be there, I swear, to make my wishes come true

But tonight you live, and I have no use for you

 

Yet I fear the day you pass away, and I’m not there to pray

And ever worse, I fear you’ll pass away

And all of my hopes will dissipate along with your silver flame

Moss on the Glass

~ Lauren Nicole ~ Leave a comment

An old dreary home, a homely abode

I sit in the rocking chair and glare at the clouds

I await the shower that will come cascading down

And rinse all the dust from the glass – at last

The thunder rumbles and rattles my heart

It bounces against these feeble ribs, as fragile as it is

Can it not break under the ivory cage? I almost wish it did

As it keeps throbbing in lament, it keeps on reaching for my grave

And I retreat beyond the door, the warped wood and oak grain

I watch behind the window pane, so solitary in my pain

The lightening dashes across the grey

And I see sparks in stolid dullness

Peaking through the crawling moss

As it conceals my window panes.

I call them hopeful and yet foolish, those wretched vines

I call them weeds and I call them lies

They seep into my tough stronghold

They seep their roots between my fingers’ hold

I want to watch the world go down in flames

And then be doused by rain

But the moss, it covers my window pane

I don’t want to hope, but it eases my pain.