kybocekwriting-blog

[kybocekwriting-blog]

I Thought You Were Different

Who else?

Tell me right now or I’ll find out myself.

Tell me who it is.

Is he handsome?

Does he make winning not matter?

When he cries do you feel like you need to hold onto him?

Does he keep you up until 8 AM talking about anything?

Does he make you love him like you used to love me?

I hope he does better.

I hope he never stops getting better.

I hope being better keeps him up late at night.

I know you deserve everyone better than me.

I’m just so angry that the love of my life hates me too.

I cannot recover.

I believe in reincarnation because I cling onto the idea that one day I will not be me. Without it I would collapse.

-k.b.

[kybocekwriting-blog]

Give It Back

I'm not a control freak because I want you to do what I want. I'm a control freak because I want to be in charge of my pain. You took that from me.

-k.b.

[kybocekwriting-blog]

I don't know how much longer I can wait for it to be okay again.

[kybocekwriting-blog]

Six Word Story

The sky opened up, I listened

-k.b.

[kybocekwriting-blog]

Please Look At Me

I’m afraid I gave you all my pieces too soon. Like a movie trailer that spoils the ending, I seem to never be able to grab your attention, let alone impress you. I’m scared to ask you to sit closer to me, I already know your response. Don’t you know you were the single person I have ever believed wanted not only just a part of me? Don’t you remember when I told you I finally had a future to live for now?

I’m scared. I’m scared soon enough I will wake up and lose everything.

[kybocekwriting-blog]

Please Look At Me

I'm afraid I gave you all my pieces too soon. Like a movie trailer that spoils the ending, I seem to never be able to grab your attention, let alone impress you. I'm scared to ask you to sit closer to me, I already know your response. Don't you know you were the single person I have ever believed wanted not only just a part of me? Don't you remember when I told you I finally had a future to live for now?

I'm scared. I'm scared soon enough I will wake up and lose everything.

[kybocekwriting-blog]

I’m Scared You’ll Leave

I tell her I’ve been talking to my friend about her, in a tone heavy with emotion. She asks if I received the food I ordered.

I tell her I love her, and then she looks away with her eyes open when we kiss.

I wanted to write more, but what can I say when she’s taken my breath away.

-k.b.

[kybocekwriting-blog]

So, I’m just the medicine You take when you’re sick You get well and that’s it I’m put back on the shelf in your mirror And it isn’t exceptional The course of our fate So, people love and they hate And I guess it’s just our turn to hate Yeah, you were just some song I wrote A poem on a page A sculpture I made out of clay Desire was the flame But now you’re more of a basketball Boys just pass you around They bounce you hard on the ground and dribble And then we all get high fives And you think I’m an asshole now Well, you’re probably right But at least I’m not blind to the facts I’ve been wishing were lies But still I hope you get everything That you care to possess And unbelievable sex with him Or any one of my friends But just don’t ask about my appetite I didn’t lose it tonight No, it’s been gone half my life It’s just act, I’ve been eating for you

[kybocekwriting-blog]

Another Six Word Poem (A.K.A. The Worst Realization)

Suddenly, it was time to leave.

[kybocekwriting-blog]

The Day I Lost My Religion

The Holy Roman Catholic Church,

Can be kind of a bitch.

The day I lost my religion was the day I looked outside of myself for Church.

You see,

My Church is the one I built myself.

The one set atop rusty stilts and leans to one side.

The one that is yet to be finished.

The one that will never be finished.

The one that chooses to never be finished.

Grow up, like my mother used to scream as she tore me down. Pretty ironic I’d say. Kindof like her Church, the one that preaches instead of teaches. Who taught her to love good and hate bad, like love and hate can be painted on a canvas like black and white.

She loves to go to Church.

But it is home I choose instead,

To write my Bible and say my prayers.

“For unto you is born this day,

In the city of David,

A king,

Who is a king of hate as well as love,

For he knows both all too well.”

Wasn’t it a man of religion who taught, there is a little bit of Jesus inside us all?

I am my own Jesus,

I will crucify the good inside me. The parts I wanted to keep. The hardest ones to let go.

They will die so my bad may make it to Heaven one day.

The day I lost my religion was the day my mother’s Church made me feel guilty for having any bad at all.

Now, it’s the only thing I am looking at when I turn inside myself.

Now, I can begin.

Finally I can fucking see what my hands have been trying to work on all this time.

-k.b.

[kybocekwriting-blog]

God is Blind

He does not see, yet he knows.

God is blind.

There are days I remember, he does not see.

Not colour,

Nor preference.

Not height or weight.

Not even what Tumblr blogs you follow.

God is blind.

But then, there are the other days.

The days where he does not see.

He does not see the rivers that run through my chest that sweep away all I have built in my bones, the sturdy structures I hide in when the storms tear through the air like a serrated edge.

God is blind.

He does not see the mountains that I must climb; their top, though I do not see it either, seemingly stretching farther and farther away from me.

God is blind.

He does not see the trampled petals, the barren ground, the lifeless place I have been living in. The hurricanes, sunamis, tornadoes, volcanoes he does not see.

God is blind.

He does not see me cry.

I beg him please “Stop, stop, stop,

dear god,

what are you doing?”

If you cannot see then at least you could fucking hear.

Because before I have asked and never, not once, have you answered in time.

Im sorry I forgot you know nothing of the sort.

But it’s time I always seem to run short of.

God is blind.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust I was born a mere patch of dirt and that is what I always seem to be to Him.

At least I can see.

Though there are some days I wish I was God.

God is blind.

But if He could see,

Would he really be proud of me?

God is blind, blind, blind and I’m damn happy he is because if he saw what I have done he would take the body he made me away. And then there would be no more chances.

I ask him one final question before my time runs out,

“Can I have one more chance?”

God is blind.

I will soon see,

If He is deaf.

[kybocekwriting-blog]

Patience

I will wait.

Wait for you.

I will wait until cows to fall from the sky.

For dogs and cats to rain,

Pound on my heart like your gentle knocking when you wanted go get to know my intimate depths.

Rip open my walls– hurry! I need you here.

Yet I will wait.

I will wait to be free.

I will wait to truely live.

I will wait,

For you.

[kybocekwriting-blog]

Pray with me here, lay with me here, lets just sit and decay here. Dissolve until our molecules mesh with each other, like I've begged God they would since you told me that you wouldn't mind ageing with me. I wouldn't mind either. So come lay over here, and we can decompose on your bedsheets and start a new life. This one I will choose for us, though. And that's why I chose you.

"Decay"

-k.b.

[kybocekwriting-blog]

Storm winds blew in my mind as she touched my neck. It was a cold night but she was hot to the touch, leaving burn scars along my inner arms and outer thighs. It is dangerous to play with her, because you see either she wins or you lose. But I have to play because I love her. Even if my hands shake as I pick up my cards, I will go all in, and dive further into this love.

“Poker” ~k.b.

[kybocekwriting-blog]

-k.b.

“She blew like the wind, sending chills up and down my spinal column.

She ran like a river, taking me to places I’d never dreamed of.

She grew like a tree, learning the edges of my body and how my mood came and went like the tide.

She is Rebecca, and I love her.”

[kybocekwriting-blog]

All I seem to see, must be put through a rigorous process to determine if I categorize it as reality or not. You see, when you start having hallucinations, it starts off quite small. Glancing over your bathroom sink and seeing a toothbrush you used when you were 8, walking into school and seeing your friend who died a year and 32 days ago dart around a corner. Easy stuff to explain and trick yourself into thinking you're completely sane. "How funny I forgot to throw away that toothbrush", and " Man I'm still not over Marley yet". Then the things you see and hear start manifesting as sometime quite sinister. I see tall dark men in combat boots who refuse to look away from me until I look away from them, look back, and they're gone. I hear Him in my head, cackling and saying things no teenager deserves to hear. You see, when you have hallucinations, you can never really tell from that point on, if what you're hearing and seeing is real. Nonfiction turns fiction. Dreams turn reality. And then when you pile night terrors on top of that, haha well to put it lightly, you're fucked. Nightmares become part of your reality, and you cannot distinguish which of your memories are actually real ones. No wonder many of us have such a difficult time remembering things. Our bodies react in the only way they know how to save us, and cut entire chucks away from our memory from our minds. Though the real question is, do I open the Pandora's box of my mind to dig through its contents, or should I live in ignorant "peace".

The Diary of a Hallucinator -k.b.