Forgive me if I speak the colors of truth
Forgive me if I stare into the painted sunset
Forgive me if I stand to close to the walls
Forgive me if I walk alone on the trails
Forgive me if I view myself as a whirlwind
Forgive me if I ramble in my head
Forgive me if I notice you don’t care
Forgive me if I see nothing in my future
Forgive me if I bottle up what you can’t see
Forgive me if I vent my frustrations to myself
Forgive me if I tell myself it will all be ok
Forgive me if I just keep to myself
Forgive me if I die and no one is at my funeral
Dark Poetry
The Quiet Man

The quiet man is a cerebral hunter. The quiet man gravitates to the intellect. He is absorbed into observing and memorizing behavior. The quiet man is a visionary. The quiet man is complex and fascinated with the dynamics of relationships. The quiet man values quality not quantity. The quiet man sees the world through others. The quiet man seeks purity. The quiet man seeks beauty in all; perhaps he sits silently in the distance. The quiet man seeks simplicity in the complex. The quiet man is methodical and artistic. The quiet man is an optimist and embraces the warmth of humans. The quiet man is not a perfectionist. The quiet man admits when he is wrong and does not judge. The quiet man believes in the phrase “I can”. The quiet man sees the value of stages: growth and the truth. The quiet man reaches for spirituality. The quiet man has high standards and is goal oriented. He believes in equality. He is captivated by harmony and the melody of humans. The quiet man is viewed as an anti-socialist by others, a volcano ready to erupt. The quiet man defies social labels. The quiet man is blind by color, but can clearly see ignorance. The quiet man does not have the answers for everything, but only has perception. The quiet man does not like drama or self-pity. The quiet man is ambitious. The quiet man is shaken by intimacy. The quiet man is disturbed by his emotions. Perhaps the quiet man is tired of how he is viewed and labeled. The quiet man is not quiet. Perhaps no one listens to the quiet man, and how could they? The quiet man’s tongue is burning. The quiet man’s perception of himself is mediocrity. When the quiet man speaks, heads turn. People ignore the quiet man. Nobody cares what the quiet man has to say. He knows how he is viewed and would like the change that perception. As much as he tries to change, the label sticks. The quiet man is invisible. What is the quiet man to do? The quiet man is speechless. The quiet man is patient. The quiet man does not want to be the center of attention, but just to be noticed for something else than being quiet. The quiet man is misunderstood. The quiet man is not superficial. Perhaps others are wearing a mask. Perhaps the quiet man is afraid of what others will say when he speaks. Perhaps the quiet man just wants to be himself and be accepted for who he is, not a label. Perhaps we are all labeled in society from the minute we are born; from each stage of life that we enter. Someone gave you a label and it stuck. The reality is that every one of us is different. We are who we are and can’t change that. We like what we like and dislike what we dislike. The minute we speak of it, we are judged not for who we are, but interests. People bond due to interest in general, not for how we approach, live, and manage our lives. Perhaps the quiet man just wants to be accepted for who he is…doesn’t anyone care what the quiet man’s perception is? Maybe if we dug beyond the surface of people, everyone is beautiful in some small way. We all have quirks hang-ups, baggage, skeletons in the closets, and that really shouldn’t matter. Does that define who we are? No.
Escape to Silence
I can’t tell
If I’m lost
or if I’m just not found
I can’t tell
If I’m confused
or if I’m in a fog
I can’t tell
If I’m the enigma
or if I’m missing pieces
I can’t tell
If I’m scared of myself
or just want to be hidden
I can’t tell
If I’m in a movie
or my reality is dramatic
I can’t tell
if I’m an introvert
or I just enjoy being alone
I can’t tell
if I want to live
or if I’m content being alive
Lost Identity
I’m a blurry train wreck
I’m the bottom of a pit
I’m the black ice in the winter
I’m the darkest rain cloud
I’m the sting from the bee
I’m a fading car crash
I’m the dust on the ground
I’m the tears in my lonely eyes
I’m a distant social disease
I’m the monster under my bed
I’m the skeleton in my closet
I’m the spider creating my own web
I’m the tarantula in the desert
I’m the demon in my soul
Elastic
I saw you between the kaleidoscopic tears and wretched veins. I kept my distance and harbored the burnt edges of my existence. I clashed with harmony and my own walls that I have personally built. I stand between your denial and my built up frustrations. I walk away to hold on to my sanity knowing my dreams will never come true. I live for you. I live for what I love not the picket fences you created. I always thought love was elastic.
****
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Stench of Loneliness

I wish
I could cough up
the self hatred
from my lungs
I wish
I could remove
the stench of
loneliness
from my skin
I wish
I could wash
the scorching anger
from my eyes
I wish
I could be someone
other than myself
Prozac Nation
Rambunctious vile
Distasteful and loathsome
Repellant personality
Excruciating voice
Webs of rancid exteriors
A horrid smell of selfishness
Obnoxious point of view
Infamous small mind
Vindictiveness renders
Full filling the lonely
Unable to stand
Crawling like a two month baby
Expecting society to
play an orchestra for a
Prozac Nation
Broken Bottle Highway (Braeden’s Writing Challenge #2)

Chasing a high-pitch shout
down an empty bottle
Retracing every convoluted
and mindless discussion
that was conjured up
Deciding not to dwell or
wallow in your demise
doesn’t change that I
can feel every chard of glass
down Broken Bottle Highway
You call yourself a lost soul
but parts of you just vanish
You claim to seek the answers
to the questions you already know
Along the path of stubbornness
Broken Bottle Highway
runs parallel to your demons
Shadow of You: Anchor in the Fog
Overflowing drops of sadness
crash the grounds of reality
Waves of anger and frustration
soar through every vein
Camouflaging the numbness
wakens the frozen memories
Slowly losing the crack of a smile
shades of grey and black entwine
A living ghost I am, alone—
all that is left of you
I talk in my sleep when I’m wide awake
In limbo I reach out to you,
my anchor in the fog
Overflowing mourning bellows
shattering the reflection in the mirror
Staring into the depths of your selfishness
stirring the darkest hurricanes
Consuming prescriptions of self-hatred
scream at your tarnished soul
Slowly your existence forever fades
whirlwinds of chaos downpour into your loved ones
A living ghost I am, alone—
evidence of your life
I keep together with special effects
And all I want is to touch you,
my anchor in the fog
Overflowing rain of melancholy
drip into the silence of your grave
Crumbled walls are now at your feet
as clouds hang over your torn shadow
Dwelling into your perfectionism
dismantles your steel cage
Slowly your wishes become true
Your actions speak a thousand poems
than the words you spoke alive
A living ghost I am no more—
I’ll breathe for me and you
Laugh for me and you, love for me and you
But still, I want to hold you tight,
my anchor in the fog
B.M. – Non italics parts
K.A – Italic Part
Collaboration of Braeden Michaels & Kindra M. Austin
Poemsandparagraphs.wordpress.com
I enjoyed collaborating with Kindra. It was easy. Her writing is real, raw, and honest to the core. Check out her blog.
Deepest Scars
Your deepest scars
don’t define who you are
Your deepest scars
walk away from the sunset
Your deepest scars
don’t stare into the light
Your deepest scars
hide behind the plum tree
Your deepest scars
don’t scream at the rage
Your deepest scars
have burnt everlasting edges
Your deepest scars
don’t speak in front of millions
Your deepest scars
never fade in the chapter
Your deepest scars
don’t disappear in the journey
Your deepest scars
shape your colorful soul
Your deepest scars
make you gorgeous
Uneducated Stalker

Injecting balladry
like it’s a antiseptic
Using your tiny
carry on thesaurus
to captivate the innocent
Swallowing cups of caffeine
to fill a concave
wretched black heart
Drunken saliva dripping
down your male oversized chin
Sunken and carved out
slurping the Devil’s wine
Casting judgement
from an empty phantom
A mindless hippocrate
Not realizing you are
an uneducated stalker
Bittersweet Crossroads

Condescending aficionado
speaks from a barbaric abyss
Staking claims and forecasts
reeking of gin and vermouth
He paws
He claws
Relentless and crude
Staring at her fishnet stalkings
waiting for her lipstick stains
delicious Coca Cola bottle curves
Inhaling her wicked scent
He probes
He pushes
Distasteful and off putting
Sucking in helium and lithium
personality rising higher than balloons
Viewing others as outcasts
engaging as a insidious vulture
He commands
He yells
Unforgiving and selfish
Demanding perverse declarations
Instilling superficial values
She crawls away from the blood hound
gazing at the sign of bittersweet crossroads
She kicks
She cries
Embracing the freedom
Abandoned in the Dusk

Clarity settles around my ankles
Shackles tightly circling my wrists
A opaque warrant for the end
In arial font harshly awakens
crawling dismembered spiders
around my distant coffin
No eulogy or words will be spoken
Just an empty room of formalities
Guests sitting out of obligation
As time passes as I’m alive
Leave me in the closet with
the laughing faded skeleton
Playing chess with my demons
No tears for the desolate child within
Walk away from my numb ghost
Shaking hands with apathy
Disheartened by those who make
false claims and promises
Leave me abandoned in the dusk
****
Check out my new book!
Queen of Blasphemy
This is really good! I love this!
Gliding across broken glass
In her eighteenth century garb
Dragging hot coals
Igniting flames in her path
Submissive demons bow down to her
She spews her unforgivable sins
Her actions show no remorse
She sharpens her tongue for more precise slices
She pushes the almighty with an unfelt shove
Her name is sprinkled in the King James like poison fourteen times
Her wrists and ankles adorned with us breakable chains
She carefully makes her bed in the lake of fire
Challenge✔️
Sauntering Antichrist

Roaming the uneven concrete
like a slobbering bloodhound
A vagabond meandering
through a decorated parade
Mischievous and unorthodox
Offensive and crude
Admittance of displacement
A lurking deadly reptile
Preaching to be resentful
Disfigure emotionally of others
A rancid phlegm among millions
The sauntering antichrist
Lipstick Diary

Writing with a light shade of pink
Paragraphs of wit and charm
Hallucinations of bitter love
Caught up in unknown webs
Burying summer flings and
hypnotic one night stands
Self inflicted wounds never sewn
The bookmark never leaves
this etched and engraved page
It’s the single page that altered
her perception of love and self
Endangered Self Worth

You gave me
a ray of sunshine to view humanity
You gave me
the glue to put my shell together
You gave me
a hand to hold the weight on my shoulders
You gave me
dripping sincerity and truth
You gave me
the candle to hold the endangered flame
You gave me
a sense of puzzling wonder
You gave me
a band aid to disguise the pain
You gave me
a cold cloth to cleanse the self worth







