A Lost Sonnet

This lonely heart and weakened mind

That had been bequeathed unto me

With trembling hand, I did sign

No regard for what was to be

Love is eternal, no life is true

The lie upon these lips

Your love was taken, bidding me adieu

Skeletal fingers upon my hips

But this voice in my ear, taking my bed

Distresses my resigned heart

Thoughts of my life, my comfort, my head

And of you, my love, forever to depart

Yet my hand still moves, shaking with fright

Passing the pen and reaching for the knife

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For Someone I Love

A poem

For Someone I Love

 

I can’t even begin to fathom how you are feeling

How could I possibly understand?

I do not love another

As greatly as you clearly love her

But even though I may offer no remedies,

I bear you a sanctuary

 

I am your rock when you need it

Your light when you are lost

Your raft when you have sunk

Far lower than you ever had planned to go

 

One answer sticks in my mind

As it does in your friend’s

And it is to abandon what makes you sad

The drug that causes your addiction

Were it only that simple

Since I love her as well

 

And I enjoy the glow that radiates from your smile

When you hold her hand,

When you talk about your days together

All I ever wanted was to see you happy

 

But how can I sit here and watch you fall

And stay quiet about it

And encourage something that makes you miserable

That makes you forget how brilliant and intelligent you are

 

She isn’t the one doing this to you

You’re doing it to yourself

 

Obsessed with making it work

Obsessed with the love you possess

And the responsibilities you bear

 

Love becomes obsession

Love becomes addiction

Love becomes depreciation

Love becomes demented

 

Love warrants destruction

 

How could you hurt me like this

How dare you say that I don’t care

When I sit with you for hours

Just listening

While people point fingers and laugh

And deem you a lost cause

Deem you a fool

 

I listen and I wait

I give you advice when I can

Even though I know in my heart

That my words fall on deaf ears

 

That night

Two nights ago now

When I knew you were in such a state

When you hurt me so

When you had the audacity to tell me

That your trust in me had gone

As I was only trying to hurt you

With my well intentioned words

 

And how I flew into a rage

Telling you that I cared so deeply

Since I am always there when you need me

Even if it is just to talk

 

How

Dare

You

Question my love

 

And you just kept saying two words over and over

Through the choked sobs in my headphones

“I’m sorry”

“I’m sorry”

“I’m sorry”

 

And I finished my speech

Looking straight in my computer screen

Feeling triumphant

Thinking I had gotten through to you

For my sake and for the rest of our friends

 

But the sobs grew louder

And the apologies didn’t stop

So my look of triumph

Faded through the pixelated image on the screen

 

And it matched your scream

 

After it was over

My shaky hands dialed her number

As you wouldn’t answer my call

And she told me later that you had calmed down

But I hadn’t

 

I was in a horror film

Except the footage was raw

And real

 

While you sobbed and screamed

Thrashing around in your room

My expression of shock

Changed quickly into tears

Of anger

Of sadness

Of frustration

 

I am no therapist

I am only your friend

And when you didn’t pick up the phone

I realized just how helpless I am

 

When I stared at you

Through my blurred vision

And yours met mine

I could see your eyes clearly

For the very first time

 

I now know there are demons in this world

And how powerless I am to stop them.

Distorted

In this land of free spirit

Free touch, free sound

Where I can breathe easy

Toes treading lightly on ground

A place where I am all I can be

Empty touches, empty sounds

To them I am my reputation

Through waxed eyes they see me

At the Edge of Fear

There’s no escape for you

You’re in my realm now

I’m going to savour every moment

I won’t rush things this time

I’ll take this nice and slow

Long enough to taste your terror

Feel your mind shatter like glass

Everything you see is under my control

Everything is as real as you think

Everything is as real as I choose it to be

You will die here

So welcome to my world

The world of your shattered memories

The broken fragments of your mind

How much more can you take?

Does it scare you to know

That I will destroy you?

I dare you

Step into my gaze

Step into my mind

Weaken your resolve

Try to fight me

You’re as sane as I

And you think you’ve won

How absolutely sickening

You cannot escape my gaze

You will die here

I see you

Now madness takes you, forever

And at the end of fear…

Oblivion

Many of these lines are quotes from one of my favourite Batman villains, Scarecrow. He serves as inspiration for a lot of the poetry I do concerning reality and dreams. 

A Piece in Singularity (Part 1)

Sometimes, it’s just nice to sit down and write. It doesn’t have to be about a particular subject, a particular thought, what I had for breakfast, my amusement with my hometown mayor (see the adventures of Rob Ford), what I’m studying or not studying in my classes… You get it. Sometimes, just sitting down and writing feels good. It’s nice to see words that flutter in your head on some sort of written format. Paper is still my number one go to writing surface, but I find no fault with writing on my computer. It’s the standard now.

I finally bought a lighter. 2 and a half months after I left Toronto for school and I just now bought one. My mother sent me two lovely candles that smell like vanilla. I believe she purchased them from Ikea, of course. That’s my go to store. In fact, my school offers shuttles to Ikea once a month. I think that’s pretty crazy. Who really needs to go to Ikea once a month? I still find myself signing up for every trip though. Maybe I’m a pushover when it comes to free transportation. Or maybe I really do have an unhealthy obsession with those hot dogs.

Back to the candles. I don’t like purchasing anything that makes me seem like a bad kid. Before you tell me that I shouldn’t feel self conscious about buying a lighter, can you honestly write me a comment saying that you wouldn’t make assumptions when you see an 18 year old university student in a Dollarama buying a lighter? If you can, I commend you for being a wonderful person with a positive outlook on life. We teenagers tend to get a bad rap. At a corner store nearby my house, there was a sign that said “No more than 2 teenage boys allowed at a time”. I believe the store owners got in trouble for the sign (obviously) and had to take it down. But is that seriously what the world has come to? When you must put that sign out to prevent things from happening? Seems strange to me. As a result of stuff like this, I try not to buy anything bad or say anything bad around adults. I would rather be thought of as an adult than associate with people my age. It’s safer that way. Don’t believe for a second I think all teenagers are like this; I’m one of them, my dearest friends are them, so I know that’s not true. But we do find it difficult when we’re looked down upon for our age. We don’t act like that, so don’t group us with those who do. This mentality makes it awkward for me to buy a lighter. Sad, right? I should have just gone in and bought it instead of making a big deal out of something that lights my candles for me.

So now I’m sitting here writing with my candle at last. I’m enjoying it immensely. I’m also extremely cold. I have the window open to flush the smoke out of my room, lest it alerts the fire alarm. My candle isn’t smoking, I swear. When I was a child, I really, really liked fire. My friends and I would sit in front of campfires for hours and burn sticks. We would light napkins on fire and smother the flames in the sink. It isn’t the safest thing to do, and I do not endorse it. My roommates have been asking me why it smells like smoke. I’ve come up with several stories to deviate from the fact that a burst of my pyromaniac tendencies came over me and lit a paper towel on fire. The paper towel in question is in the waste basket where I’m hoping no one will find it. If they do, my door has a lock on it.

Hope you all are having a wonderful day, and are not lighting things on fire. If you are, send me pictures.

-Shannon

Barren

The wind slices at my face

Leaving deep indents that cannot be seen

Slashes feel hot

As I gently touch my cheek

Fingers cold as ice

The briskness in the air

Associated with the dead

Brings life to me

As the wind hurtles towards me

Like sharp, frigid knifes

It awakens me

I am aware of my body now

As the first breath of cold air passes my lips

Unlike summer days

I can feel the air in my throat

The realization that I am truly alive

Leaves the ground looking less barren

Rebirth

Let these waters

Flow into me

Wash away

All the traces

You’ve left behind

Hate these waters

That caress my body

Reminds me

Of what we were

Suffocating me

Surrounding me

With memories

Drowning me

Carrying me

Into the heart

Where the water burns most

Drown me with passion

Hold me in silence

Scorch my skin

Scald my throat

How you’ve disfigured me

To the point

I don’t recognize myself

Yet it ignites the flame

The fire within me

So I rise

From the waters

From which I once came

The waters holding life

And sorrow

Time after time

My hand will glide

Across the glassy surface

Reminds me

Of how I was lost

Without you

 

Happy National Poetry Day, everyone. This years theme is water.