Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Lux's Indulgences - 4. Lonely
I
Nobody knows the tears
I’ve wept.
No one has seen the invisible
Marks I have left.
No one has heard my voice
My desperate-silent cry.
Everyone else has a
Life to live.
Why don’t I?
Nobody knows what
I have to hide.
No one would want to know
So why would I?
No one cares enough to be
My guide.
Everyone else has a
Life to live.
Why don’t I?
Nobody touches me
I cannot feel it.
Nobody looks at me
Without contempt
Nobody knows I don’t know why
I still want to live.
Everyone else has a
Life to live.
Why don’t I?
If I am alone
Because no one
Could ever love me
Why should I?
II
Some things are different
Melting in still-cold sadness.
Where have all those
Wasted tears gone?
It seems more sensible
To just forget, waiting for
Another sacred moment.
Will the mystery clue
Appear?
III
Under my watchfulness
Another friend leaves
Gone
Away from pain
Away from my pain
Away from me
No one wants
To hear about your
Emotions,
Caught up in those
Deep thoughts
Again!
I've had enough of your
Your self-righteous
Martyrdom.
You're not a Philosopher
And no fucking Saint.
Will you just stop?
When you don't know
How to be that person
Other people want around,
Or the standards they'll
Allow you to hold
When you don't know
How to live a life
Worth living
How do you stop?
Where do you stop?
Why?
IV
Bells for no one
Not even me
Sonorous ringing
No longer
Fading away
There’s nothing I can do now
I can’t stop what’s coming
Why does the struggle seem
So worthwhile amidst the
Ideal, anyway?
Under the pillow
I planted the disease
No, I cannot stop loving
What I never began
What will never begin
V
It’s so cold in here
Here, there must be
Something...
Can you explain to me,
Where has this come from?
I know you hate, but is that
What makes you love?
Sons of sick men can still love
Maybe not me.
VI
Pass me a drink
I see them holding hands,
And I should be happy.
I see them kissing,
And I should be happy.
I see the ring,
And I should be happy.
I hear them fucking
Right across the hall
And I should be happy.
Happy.
Pass me a drink
And maybe I won’t hear
Just one more night.
VII
Some things are melting
Did you show me?
But you ran away
Still, I don’t know why but
I trust you anyway.
Is this yearning
Forgiveness?
Do I truly give it
So easily?
VIII
I never was much of one
For words.
Small-talk is unreal,
Tiny icicles prickling,
Piercing my skin
An internal friction of
Tissues, of organs
Grating against one another
Wishing for it to be over
Or to have meaning, an
Unfeigned connection
For once
So maybe in this cold
Warm way, I will find
That it’s just my own impatience
And not the frowns of Fortune
That deter me from
What I seek.
Frankly I believe
Everything and yet nothing
Seems to be the best option.
Giving up, waking up,
Singing down,
breathing the words…
I could have
I should have
I didn’t know.
Should I go away?
Pink nebulae await
Newcomers in their confusion
But I am old and have
Naught but ashes left.
If you breathe with me
Born of the sun
Rainbows guiding you
Away
You can go now,
But stuck
I only can
Stay
Would it still
Be this way if I had
Hated?
There isn’t much
Left to consider.
Years go by, and I’m still waiting.
Where is the answer, the call in the dark?
I don’t want to play
These games anymore.
IX
Simply worn,
Wrapped in a blanket.
The porch is peeling,
Bleached yellow in the sunset.
Certain uncertainty settling
Where it has always lain
At my feet, waiting to be
Picked up and read by
A blind man.
Surrounded by daylight
And yet still in darkness
Cold and lifeless
Warm
Why not a hobby?
Don’t go.
I’m lost in the crowd
And I’m so alone.
X
It'll hear you out, heal you
Even after the winter time
The darkness that hurt you,
Stumbling
Astray.
‘Blest are they,’
That’s what they say...
Time hurts when it’s only
A number on a clock to
Keep you working.
Praying.
What a cold and blunt reality.
‘Here I am, Lord.
It is I, Lord.’
But I have not heard you
Calling in the night.
'Should I go, Lord,
If you lead me?'
Is this madness,
This false belief?
Is faith just self-deception?
Am I alone in this
Infinite finite pocket of
Spacetime?
A machine of entropy
Formed by chance natural law?
A body with no anchor,
Holding false people
In my heart?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kiGZ9j3OD88
- 7
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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