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I wallow in the paraphrases and the ick of December. Wintery trees remind me of childhood and what use to be. Today the misery and solitude linger in the brisk air. I no longer grasp and hold onto affection. I took a walk and could see my reflection in the mangled trees. Branches scattered like my frozen thoughts. I stand still as depression settles deeper. No one wants to stand from my perspective. I despise the winter and hollow chill. No one cares. I use to crave to feel. I stare into the paragraphs and emptiness flows. No one cares. I don’t ask why I am alive. I ask when will you take me out of my misery?

by on

I’ve offered you a ship and you offer me a canoe

I’ve offered you a dozen roses and you offer me a dandelion

Sadness is a trigger

I’ve offered you a plate of everything and you offer me a morsel

I’ve offered you a road and you offer me a unpaved narrow path

Sadness is a trigger

I’ve offered you a tree of gold and you offer me a stained branch

I’ve offered you a notebook and you offer me a page

Sadness is a trigger

I’ve offered you barrel of ink and you offer me a ballpoint pen

When I’m gone my written words will say it all

by on

Foolish and dumb I crumble

Stuck in a wrecking atmosphere

Drifting out of consciousness

Wishes fall beneath my feet

I can’t move

A jolt of discomfort shatters within

Starring at discolored fragments

Crying romance bellows forgiveness

Dropping rights and wrongs

I can’t move

Dying to be understood in tired eyes

All I absorb are tears and rain

wearing a chain of animosity

through a howling river

I can’t move anymore

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I’m alone and sleeping in the cavern

I’m alone and sleeping in the gloom

And never do I cry

I’m alone and sleeping in the dusk

I’m alone and sleeping in the morning

And never do I bleed

I’m alone and sleeping in the twilight

I’m alone and sleeping in my coffin

And never do I pray

I’m alone and sleeping in the screams

I’m alone and sleeping in the silence

And never do I laugh

I’m alone and sleeping in the scars

I’m alone and sleeping in the obscurity

And never do I change

by on

I’m disappointed in myself as usual

I’m disappointed to reach for something I can not feel

I’m disappointed with my voice of truth

I’m disappointed in my ignorant silence

I’m disappointed with my points of view

I’m disappointed with my deceptive mind

I’m disappointed in the fool I can’t see

I’m disappointed that I couldn’t feel the needles puncture my skin

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I use to languish in the polygon of my weeping mind

I thirst for the fragments of my anguish to mold my center

I use to sulk inside myself and drink the wine of selfishness

I sunk my teeth into the dejection

I use to dwell in the camouflage and sink in my words

I swam in the black river under the oppression

I use to neglect faith and drown in the empty tear ducts

I fell into the depths of silence

I use to grieve in the awaken sadness and never sleep

I felt the last breath deceive me

I use to shed my dead skin in the morning to erase the gloomy nights

I carried a chain of misery

I use to gasp at the hollowness and gazed at the autograph

I refused to stare at the nemesis

I saw the signature and found it revolting

A transformation within shouted

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Before you

castrate me

Let me sew up

your cesspool

I’d rather hear

nails on a

chalkboard than

your satanic moans

see me, I’m a seamstress–

needle and thread

put away those bitch teeth

aching in your head


Before you

piss in my cornflakes

Let me shatter

and shred your

fake Barbie doll world

that lives in

my iconic kingdom

‘neath plastic skin

vinegar rivers–

acetic acid,

bitter


Before you

scream in my

volcanic ears

Let me watch

you cry as the

reality sinks deep

knowing no one

gives a shit

about your existence


I refuse to placate–

I’m the real deal

this is all your fault

to hell with how you feel


Kindra M. Austin ~ Italic Parts 

Braeden Michaels – Non Italic Parts

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Surrounded by the shrapnel

Six thousand reasons to fade

A service in your polite eyes

Ungrateful and dissatisfied

Watch me flip in rectangles for you

Continuing to give the minimum

Throwing me up against the brick

wall like a domino

As you never give me an inch

Counting the years one by one

Year 15 is the most critical one

Please read it again

I am just a provider and a dollar sign

Prove to me differently

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I don’t need the sore aggravation

I don’t need the circling hassles

And your love fades away

I don’t need the toxic backbite

I don’t need the rolling animosity

And your love crawls like a cock roach

I don’t need the invisible scars

I don’t need the controlling gestures

And your love screams murder

I don’t need the swallowing fears

I don’t need the pins from your heart

And your love smothers me

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by on


I was in my room shattered. I thought he loved me. I saw a vision of a life with a man who turned out to be a child. Not a boy but a child who ran away because he was terrified. He was scared of the word love. It became too real. He tarnished my soul. He took something away that I can’t put my finger on. I turned off the light and crawled underneath the covers. I couldn’t close my restless eyes. My world had crumbled. How can a man touch my skin the way he did and walk away? How can a man kiss these lips and walk away? It felt like I was on a roller coaster and I was no longer going up hill. It was all down hill and could feel the crashing of the silent wind echo. Although he may have thought he had broken me but as I said I’m shattered. It translates that I can pick up the pieces and put them back. No man will ever break me that I can’t get up.

by on

She is a cloud of rage

She is a walking catastrophe

She is a laughing queef

She is a raging monster

She is a broken beast

She is a heartless pig

She is a disgusting human

She is a pile of excrement

She is a bleeding organ

She is a ignorant pissant

*Lou wanted me to use this word as a title of a poem. I will admit this was a challenge. I had to think a few days on how to use it.

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A pile of ancient bricks

stack up against the closet door

A lemon yellow sun hasn’t

heard the shrieks behind

the desolate window

Vanishing clowns snicker

in the obscure corner

Fears subside and twinkle

In the witching hour

the scarecrow yells from

the depths of childhood memories

A ministry of skeptics

preach under the queen size bed

Reciting a sacred testament

of abuse and lacerations

Sobbing whispers live behind

the wretched closet door

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Gasping for grasping

At the end of the line

Spinning circles

At the end of the rope

Hearing not listening

At the end of the illusion

Unadaptable and difficult

At the end of the mirage

Impenetrable and brick

At the end of the delusion

Sucked in a vicious cycle

At the end of the fabrications

Never ending spiral

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I’m caught between syndromes and prescriptions. I’m slipping in the separation of loneliness and sadness. I have fallen in the hands of broken angels and laughing demons. I can feel the down pouring melancholy fill up the emptiness. I sulk in the fields of depression beside wishes and painted dreams. I’m sitting in the middle of insomnia and awakened tear drops. I watched the clown die on the inside. I stood on the outside of the circus and saw the crowd. I will always be on the outside looking in. I’m surrounded by beliefs and stuck in oppression. I’ve dug a grave in my creativity. I wear sensitivity on my sleeve. I can’t remove if I tried. I want a blanket of love that’s never been made. I seek a yearn that doesn’t exist. You will feel the craving when I’m gone. You will be on the inside finally looking in. The puzzle will be complete. I don’t belong on this earth. I want to lay beside Dylan Thomas and Allen Ginsberg. Read between the lines.

by on

No verses can disguise

the barbwire truth

Furious on the inside

Depression settles like dust

A intact plan merges

Ignoring my needs

Methodical and analytical

Reread the chorus

Every day was an opportunity

you threw away to show me

Nothing will prepare you

for what I’m about to do….

by on

Exchanging blows

Trouncing the integrity

Parading with clout

Testifying with a punch

Ruthless and cold

Clobbering with animosity

Losing perspective

Gaining self worth

Sitting on a Island

without a blanket of protection

Circling apathy

with loneliness on a death bed

Persecuting myself

Questioning my beliefs

Constantly defending my being

Slowly giving up to society’s views

by on

I fear the oceans water

I dread the depth

I look away from the oceans water

I can’t see the bottom

I hide from the oceans water

I detest the slippery feel

I stand miles away from the oceans water

I hate what it represents

I despise the oceans water

I refuse to embrace it

I run from the oceans water

I know the harm and danger