Annasiel's Portfolio

The pen is mightier than the sword! Take a pen to a sword fight and see. RPF staff holds no responsibility for injury.
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Annasiel
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Re: Annasiel's Portfolio

Post by Annasiel » Wed Jul 18, 2018 8:46 am

Flow fucking flow fucking flow fucking flow
Just go out, somewhere -
I don't want you in my head/I can't stand the rotting stench
Please go fucking go fucking go fucking go
Spit on paper
Writhe at keys
Use my mouth - my fingers - aim to please -
Just run fucking run fucking run fucking run
Run together
Run apart
Run in circles back to start
Make up tales
Make up rhymes -
Do anything but sit inside my head in fetid pools I wish I bled from lips or hands so long a - go just - go just - go just - go just
Swollen with a mantra that I've stolen from a thief.

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Re: Annasiel's Portfolio

Post by Shinigami » Wed Jul 18, 2018 8:50 am

The first one was really good. Took me a moment to catch the flow of it. 👌

This one was a tad more chaotic, though I assume that was intentional.
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Annasiel
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Re: Annasiel's Portfolio

Post by Annasiel » Wed Jul 18, 2018 8:52 am

Another night without a right direction -
write or maybe sit and let the light
rise up again and hate yourself for
giving in to shite ideas - apathetic spite
is filling up my ears - so tightly clutch your pillow
dear
So tightly clutch your pillow
dear
So tightly
Clutch
Your pillow
Dear
This comfort you hold near -
Is waiting but
For you
To sleep
Quick slumber
Shut
Your eyes
And dream
Of better
Things
Than waiting
To be something more than what you're meant to be
Swollen with a mantra that I've stolen from a thief.

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Annasiel
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Re: Annasiel's Portfolio

Post by Annasiel » Tue Jul 24, 2018 3:40 am

Why can't I just be what others want from me, or be what I want myself?

Silence. A painful intonation. Far from the chaos of faces that bid for time, chipping away at my already-rotten resolve. Silence is a respite, yes, but even in that peace from noise, I find myself lashed to a chorus of voices, of self-same thoughts that - despite spilling words I'd never want spoken - all possess a voice eerily akin to my own. Some nights, I ignore them. Some nights, I can't hear them at all, though they always lay in wait. Other nights, they scream like banshees, beating down my thoughts until I find myself thinking what they say. Thinking. Knowing. Believing they are true. To speak only lessens the noise for a time, cushioned in the warmth of comforting utterances, and afterward I find them back in full, mixed with the bitter taste of selfishness alongside. It doesn't stop me from acting out again, and again, and again, as if one time the reactions will warm me enough to burn the voices away. Yet I remain ice, and over time, the reactions lessen.

It is typical.

Expected.

Foolish, to complain of your dilemmas when, to others' eyes, you do naught to help yourself. No time, no effort. No desire. Just wallowing in the same old pit, as if, almost as if you take some kind of delirious comfort in it. You like it. You deserve it, just like anything else that weighs against your throat, chains linked out of your own damned ineptitude.

What else is there to do?

Detach, retain. Act out again. Gather up what piteous kindness you can, and beyond that, allow all sense of worth or care to fade.

If only I could be something more than this. Push these feelings away, allow myself to suffer without suffering others at my expense. Smiling, laughing, cheerful, unsuspecting. I could try, but I doubt I hold the will to maintain.

So for now I sit in the cycle, and wait for one of three things.

A chance to heal, the will to hold facade, or selfish, bitter flight into the grey.
Swollen with a mantra that I've stolen from a thief.

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Re: Annasiel's Portfolio

Post by Killian » Tue Jul 24, 2018 9:57 am

I really like the description you wrote about the voices and negative thoughts for the person in the writing piece. "To speak only lessens the noise for a time, cushioned in the warmth of comforting utterances, " was where one could feel the most that the despairing situation just won't go away.

That last part of the possibility of a "flight into the grey" is heartbreaking for me ;-;
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Re: Annasiel's Portfolio

Post by Annasiel » Wed Jul 25, 2018 9:43 am

Sorry. >-<
Swollen with a mantra that I've stolen from a thief.

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Annasiel
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Re: Annasiel's Portfolio

Post by Annasiel » Wed Jul 25, 2018 9:47 am

Oh look, the clock
Is growing late
But still I sit
And sitting, wait
For sleep to come?
For something more?
A little bless
For a rest from bored.
I'll come to hate
This choice I've made
A tallied slate
Of slippings played
And clippings splayed
Across my bed
Nowhere to lay
Or rest my head
(Escape from fear
To wish me-
)
Night comes
Night ends.
Another morn
Can I pretend
I'm going somewhere
Where I'll mend
My faulty acts
I can't go back
But back I slip
Again
Swollen with a mantra that I've stolen from a thief.

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Annasiel
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Re: Annasiel's Portfolio

Post by Annasiel » Fri Aug 03, 2018 6:14 pm

Wherefore hath thou left, mine dear?
Because, because the winds blow strong
And in thine face I hear her song
Calling, calling home

Whither went? To thither thence,
Across the seas of circumstance,
And if thou seek, thou find perchance
The place I chose to roam

So wait for me where the riverbend flows
And the tall grass bends in the gusty blow
I call to thee by the late moon's glow
Beneath the earthy loam.
Swollen with a mantra that I've stolen from a thief.

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Annasiel
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Re: Annasiel's Portfolio

Post by Annasiel » Fri Aug 03, 2018 9:11 pm

Sometimes I want to fly

Sometimes I want to drown

Sometimes I want to dig a hole and fall inside and stay forever down

But if I try

To find some solid ground

I quickly come to realize that I can't just wait around

Because with every second sitting

I can feel my numbers flitting

And I always end up staring at the sky

Wishing I could be somewhere or something more than willingly complacent

To live a bit then die

So if you ask

What I want to be

I'll tell you plainly - anything as long as I am free

And if you say

I need some kind of plan

I'd whisper - only when I'm falling will I ask to hold your hand
Swollen with a mantra that I've stolen from a thief.

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