txkingupspxce - Tumblr blog

[txkingupspxce]

i’ve shared every part of myself with you in pieces and sections this one is the one i’m most proud of did you take note of the change? did you feel me healing? finding out healing isn’t an end post out there it’s a stream inside of me i had to open the floodgates feel it flow let it reach me so i can reach others

~that’s why it’s called living waters

[txkingupspxce]

don’t think i don’t question it when i’ve begged for breakthrough for years and they don’t change when my passion, the gift i was given is the reason my body fights itself when i sit on my knees crying for hours and still the medicine cabinet stays packed to the brim when i shout and demand more from life but that stays in my hands i don’t get it why some mountains stay unmoved maybe there’s a reason we have to linger in the shadows of it maybe there's light to be brought from ourselves and it's okay to have moments of uncertainty it's okay to wonder thought trust is the hardest part thought sightless, blind faith takes so much out of your soul we have a spirit of fire, of burning authority so praise while you wait or pray in that warzone right through that chaos

~faith is stepping out blindly in power

[txkingupspxce]

I just started following you and I just wanna say I love your poems! Keep writing! God bless you!

Thank you so much, I'm so grateful you're enjoying my words <3

Have a blessed day <3

[txkingupspxce]

i wonder if i’ll outgrow it rescheduling my being based on how you’re feeling

~at this point i live to please you

[txkingupspxce]

i find myself uncomfortable with this new trend where artists and art openly mocks religion or beliefs i say mock because it’s more than rejection rejection is the choice not to believe in something and not think about it to the point where you have no interest in it taking up any space in your thoughts or words it holds an unintentional respect to it a realisation of will and the freedom of it but mocking it openly trying to belittle it requires you to get to know it just to hate it using aspects of it to staff your disrespect it’s odd comically disgusting how you get to openly blatantly and proudly pour out your distasteful musings cheap literacy disguised as poetry use enough big words and you’ll get to do it without any question but any mention of the opposite any attempt at simply sharing dept to your misinformed notes based on misled people or misinterpreted sentences or strayed extremism is a fist down your throat a threat to your freedom tell me why are you so condemned by an idea so extremely uncomfortable with something you do not think is real in your hatred we see pity in our openness you find material for your blasphemy curious how you waste your lyrics, your brush strokes, your film convincing yourself you don’t care why so interested in making your disdain known it’s almost as if you’re trying to prove something to whom, i wonder do you aim your classless jabs then if you don’t believe there’s anyone to hear

~blasphemy does not a poet make

[txkingupspxce]

and it’s me who kept the cage locked looked at the emotional bars latching onto the keys begged to be free when i already was

~captivity isn’t real

[txkingupspxce]

and if the temptation of depression comes knocking i’ll still see it, feel it but i’ll laugh at the audacity because i control my emotions they do not control me i’m no longer a slave to misery that i don’t claim.

~i decide what consumes me

[txkingupspxce]

it’s a lie the reminder of the things that cripple me am i not made new? am i not a different person? these things are not mine how can i take back what does not belong to me how can i be the character of a stranger if you’d put her next to me i’d not recognise her so stop you coward stop trying to take me back to something that no longer exists it’s buried in a grave under a different name i’m no longer bound by depression by hatred by bitterness by illness by boundaries of this world let that corpse go rotten with all it’s shame and pain i’ll live in victory, in newfound hope because i’m a different story the Author has taken back the pen

~grace is mine

[txkingupspxce]

what are you doing with your lungs? it was asked in passing from the front of church it struck me like lightning lungs have breath breath has life a life was given for me to have mine that life still breathes through me so why do i suffocate it why do i spend so much time hyperventilating in vain every sigh, a threat of death when life was breathed right from that cross into my existence

~what will you do with your lungs?

[txkingupspxce]

who'd have thought there could be guilt here in my lowest in my deadliest that despite how sure i was of my terror of my misery i could feel undeserving of it

~i had no right to linger in this pain

[txkingupspxce]

and what will i write about? the therapist laughed i don't think she understood pain, loneliness, emptiness these cheap emotions was all i knew it had become a simple muse shameful to admit i didn't know how to write if i wasn't using my own blood

~am i holding onto it for the sake of an outlet?

[txkingupspxce]

when the neurons settle back into place and i can think for myself again when i'm in control again and i regret every second of anguish that wasn't as real as i convinced myself it was and i fear that someday i won't be in time to stop myself to talk myself down remind myself why i need to stay

~moments of morose, of dysthymia

[txkingupspxce]

You gave everything for me to live i'm so sorry i've been spending all this time wishing i didn't have to it's not on purpose i don't mean to deny this gift this prize it's been feeling like a price i can't afford for as long as i remember but i think that's on me

~remind me of the privilege of being alive in Your place

[txkingupspxce]

what's it like in your arms i think about it constantly i dream about days where i get to fall into your chest where i get to feel small no need to be what it must be like to hear your heartbeat your chest moving up and down under my cheek will you brush a hand up and down my arm would your skin feel warm as you wrapped me up tighter can you hear the sound of us breathing together i imagine you'd smell like home, like safety nauseating domesticity i'd abandon all objections to it for a second to be held by you to feel you to have you

~with you i'd stay soft, you'd not misuse it

[txkingupspxce]

~fight for me, a poem about grace

i don't know how to be weak in front of the people i love, how to show them that i’m struggling, that i’m drowning so hung up on staying in control but i haven’t been in control for years i was struggling, had been for so long, i’d learned how to cope, how to force myself up from the concrete and wipe the sand from the bloodied bruises before doing it all over again, but i was tired. somewhere in the frenzy of trying to keep going, no matter what, i’d lost myself- lost my control, lost my mind. how could i let anyone into that madness? they had no right to the pain that i felt, to the fear and the torture inflicted on me by my own mind i had it good, many people had it much worse, but it never felt so, never felt like i had a moment of peace, of happiness. i woke up every day with a sword in my hand and an army in front of me and i fought, without objection i took the blows and the cuts and the bodies that forced me into my grave alive- but only when i looked up and saw my own face behind their armor did i realize how far i’d gone, how far i’d allowed myself to go, and i couldn’t go on like this any longer. i was losing myself and as terrifying as it was to admit that out loud, it was far more terrifying looking into the mirror and seeing a stranger. i’d been fighting myself by myself and it would destroy me if i didn’t call out for help. reach out, admit that i was weak, to become strong surrender my sword, let someone else help me fight i thought it to be greedy, the burden was heavy but it was brave, staying in the rubble and it was grace that laid down with me until i was willing to let it pull me out

[txkingupspxce]

i’m fat no point tiptoeing around that but i’m also kind and loving i can talk to anyone i’m loud i’ve always been a leader i watch things to obsess over them i’m a helper, a giver i dream of love constantly i say sorry like i breathe i love completely, fully, naggingly i think flowers should be photographed i buy books to think of reading i listen to music to linger i see the bad first and look for the good still i'm the last to know when i'm unwanted i try to be good, always my fat is the first thing you see but there is so much more to me

~please see me

[txkingupspxce]

this is not what was meant for me this body, this mind, this life i’m a stranger in here somewhere behind all that decaying hope and pounds of empty flesh that agony and fear my spirit cries for what could’ve been it spends every second longing, begging for release it fears what it needs, what has to change is too much, too daunting, too drastic it’s convinced death would be easier i was not made for this please can someone hear me? i wasn’t made to be

~what is harder? living or dying