becauseyouredead - Tumblr blog

becauseyouredead · 2 years

Text

Love is an onion ring. I know that may sound strange. A big crispy succulent battered onion. The best looking one on the plate. The type that's almost the same size as your face. The perfect ratio of crunchiness to juiciness, to make it just right. Usually, I would save it until last, get all of the mediocre onion rings out of the way. So I could savour the taste, slowly enjoy every delicious bite. When I think about how great it's going to be, how lovely it will be to eat. I realize there is something better than eating it myself; I want you to have the small moment of joy. When I realised that love is just an onion ring, These feelings finally started to make sense.

9 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 2 years

Text

The reality of today is never enough.

My head up in the clouds.

I was never afraid of heights.

A fear of falling down,

back to the truth,

seeing my lies.

Accepting dissatisfaction,

before I hit the ground.

#poetry #poem #poet #spilled ink #original poem #poetscommunity #new poets society #sobriety #sober #addiction #female poets #poetsandwriters #young poets #poems on tumblr #poetic #short poem #my poem

4 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 2 years

Text

You are the subject of my daydreams.

The same study, unknowingly repeated.

These experimental visions will amount to nothing;

a fear the scientist used to be afraid to admit.

When calamity guides your observations

and determines your decisions,

failure is the only answer found.

Science and spirituality, contradicting and complementing each other.

A watercolour miracle which allows me to know the truth.

I am not in love, merely obsessed with you.

#Poem #sad poem #poetry #poet #spilled ink #love #poem by me #poem about life #poem of the day #poetic #writers and poets #poems on tumblr #poems and quotes #spilled poetry

4 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 3 years

Text

Can I wash myself away?

Down the sink hole,

with the grief of what I have left.

I want to keep scrubbing until a new person appears.

Under the layers of pain.

Showering away my fears.

Someone with a cleaner past.

It hurts too much,

the effort seems forlorn.

So I bathe in water as stagnant as my life.

Floating in dirty water.

Too tired to drain the residue of my defects.

#Poem #Poetry #Proses #Creative writing #prose poem #poemsbyme #poemoftheday #spilled thoughts #poets corner #Clean #Shower #Soap #Wash #Depressed #Mental health #AA #Alcoholic

4 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 3 years

Text

Many months have past since we last spoke.

The day we ended,

the start of my downhill slope.

Many more days have past,

since I crashed.

You shouldn't be on my mind.

You exist as a fantasy.

A threat,

a lesson,

a gift of desperation.

The strain of the past,

not so heavy on my mind.

People were right;

healing takes time.

This tired melody still playing for longer than I want.

If you heard the screaming too, would that make it more tolerable?

#Poetry #Poem #Proses #poets corner #poets of color #Creative writing #AA #Mental health #Relationship #Depressed #Rumination #Fantasy #Alcoholic #Break up #Writing #poemsoftheday #sad poem #love poem #poemsbyme

2 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 4 years

Text

Excuses

I drink for two,

for my unborn child.

I drink for three

because we were never close enough.

I drink for four,

so I can forget the mother I never met.

I drink for seven

to toast all my ex-boyfriends.

I drink for ten

because I miss people who are dead.

I drink for twelve,

so I can pretend I’m at a party again.

I drink for fifteen,

when I realise we were never really friends.

Each sip has a reason.

Every bottle is purposed.

I’m drowning in alcohol.

It’s taste bittersweet.

No matter how much I drink,

I will always feel empty.

13 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 4 years

Text

Cleaning out my old bedroom.

My childhood in a suitcase.

Comfy socks,

Pyjama tops,

My favourite story books.

Toys I forgot about.

Sentimental trinkets and

Ex-boyfriend’s t-shirts.

Photographs of people I cherish.

And others I’d rather forget.

Each item contributing to who I am.

Goodbye to that room

that house,

to my hometown.

A new nomad,

carrying my home around with me.

#Poem #Poetry #Poet #Proses #Creative writing #Spilled ink #Spilled thoughts #Spilled words #Poets of color #Poets of colour #Poets of tumblr #Memories #Nostalgia #Childhood #Hometown #house #Moving house #Travel

9 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 4 years

Text

Walking is meant to clear your head.

It’s a sunny day - I should be enjoying myself.

I eagerly hope and fear that every car that goes past will be yours.

Disappointed when I realise it was just another grey vehicle.

I hate being outside because I want to bump into you,

but I’m terrified of what would actually happen if I did.

I avoid places you might be,

I can’t face actually seeing you.

Hanging onto my sanity by a thread.

Why wasn’t I good enough for you?

Holding onto my life and loosing grip.

What could I have done differently?

I imagine how I will do it.

Should the goodbye letters be brief or lengthy?

What charities should I redistribute my money to?

What songs should be played at my funeral?

I miss you.

If I do this,

you should know this is not your fault.

I know you’re not good for me but I still love you.

I pray this will end soon.

#Poem #Poet #Poetry #Proses #Creative writing #Poets of color #Poets of colour #Cars #Walking #Break up #Heartbreak #Lonely #Alone #Mental health #Suicidal #Suicide #Love #Loss #Relationship breakdown

7 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 4 years

Text

Not Currently lonely... but I was

#Abstract #Art #Painting #Acrylic #Watercolour #Covid #2020

4 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 4 years

Text

I listen to a song.

It helps me see the truth.

I’m no longer heartbroken over you.

My pain has transitioned.

The weight dragging me down;

the hole in my heart;

the disordered thinking swirling around my head.

Struggling with loneliness,

I am alone.

Potentially unloved.

Potentially with no friends.

Codependency is supposed to be bad.

Why am I struggling to exist?

7 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 4 years

Text

White wine.

Gurgling in my brain.

The second bottle’s intention isn’t to numb.

It desires to feel pain.

In my mind whilst I indulge.

The next morning as I fight.

I might be a problematic drinker.

I use alcohol to destroy what’s mine.

#Poem #Poet #Poetry #Prose #Creative writing #Alcoholic #Alcohol #Aa #Aca #Fear #Wine #Numb #Pain #Mental health #Depression #Self destructive #Self destruction #Sad #Sadness

6 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 4 years

Text

Trapped within my biology.

Their genes killing me.

My DNA destroys.

Stories of my parents.

Their mistakes,

personalities,

problems.

I worry these flaws are within myself.

My mother and father didn’t raise me.

How am I so afflicted?

A generational curse.

Repeated with no end.

I should never raise children.

It would be cruel for me to become a mother.

No matter my intentions;

I have a disease I can’t pass on.

2 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 4 years

Text

Loneliness is meant to take you on a journey.

That connects to a higher power.

Which elevates you to the top.

When will I revel in an empty room?

The valley is dark.

I am stalked by the shadow of my own death.

‘Hope’ promises that this has a purpose.

The hardest part of isolation

is not knowing when it will end.

3 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 4 years

Text

I’m constantly day dreaming.

Not connected to reality.

As I snap out of it,

the fantasies in my head shame me.

Red wine makes it easier,

to drift to another place.

I’m not really ‘here’.

I don’t want to experience ‘now’.

Unwilling to accept reality;

or live a life that’s not on my terms.

Continued escapism,

until it doesn’t work anymore.

7 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 4 years

Text

Wish I was here!

#Marrakesh #Lockdown #Selfie #Africa #Coronavirus #Holiday #Pool side

8 notes · View notes

becauseyouredead · 4 years

Text

Happy birthday to me 24 #2020

1 note · View note

becauseyouredead · 4 years

Text

Unethical experiment

Like Seligman’s rat.

I learnt to be helpless.

I stay because I believe there is no escape.

Inside Skinner’s box,

I attempt to avoid punishment.

Controlled by fear.

Unsure of what positive rewards feel like.

I am a dog conditioned to liken abuse and love.

My cognitions are abnormal, these patterns will persist.

Trapped by my own decision-making and perceptions.

An unethical experiment;

How do I live with the aftermath?

Science says I can’t start again.

I long to be a blank slate.

4 notes · View notes