Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

literature

I'm Lost

Deviation Actions

CalumDC

Published: Apr 15, 2011

137 Views

Literature Text

I'm lost

Walking out under the night
I can tell all is not right
The lights are all gone
All is black
where did I go wrong

Don't know the way to turn
When will I ever learn
My pace begins to slow
A dark struggle
Which way should I go

Left behind the beaten track
There is now no turning back
Wandering with no hope
no goal or target
Losing the ability to cope

Can't work out what to do
Many routes, I've no clue
As the dark descends
There's no telling
Where the path ends

Stuck without any directions
Stalked by mental projections
Every corner hides a threat
Don't know where I am
Just know it ain't over yet

Left, right, straight ahead
endless routes in my head
away from a life left behind
But now I am lost
Lost alone in my own mind

More by CalumDC

Literature

Delayed Consequences

Delayed Consequences 773 Days 7 Hours 25 Minutes 30 Seconds That's how long it has been The apex of that decision When I sat at this screen And made the last incision I turned against my mind Staring down upon the blade Knowing I'd soon be blind I should have been afraid I resorted to mutilation It was rash and immature Acting out of desperation I just wanted to make sure I had to erase my longing As feelings made me weak I'd no hope of belonging Because I'm but a freak The plan was a success I escaped the mental hell Dismissing my distress Breaking from her spell The process may be violent But new clarity was born All emotions fell sile

Recommended Literature

Literature

A Fool

I never thought I would be here, in this position. I never thought that I would let this happen to me. I thought I was better than that. I believed you. You seemed so perfect. Everything about you was exhilarating. Flawless. I believed you. I would not listen to the warnings. They did not know you like I did. They were erroneous. I believed you. You have taken all I have. Everything valuable to me is gone. I just cannot the fact that… I believed you.

Literature

Thorns

I see you at first glace Immediately captivated by your beauty Your stem so strong and tall with pride Your petals full of color and shape I am a bud not yet blossomed As I grow toward you My stem embracing yours I finally realize, you're covered in thorns

Literature

Conventional Tragedies

Her mother was a sphinx, she was her favorite riddle, her father played lullabies on Lucifer's fiddle. Her facade was a doll, with a torn out pull string, she lost it in a battle with an innerspring. Her hopes were static ivy that crackled so high, white noise never failed in making her cry. Her belly was a bird cage that was empty inside, she buried the song in her mind when it died. Her skin was a roadmap of savage tattoos, and bruised evil eyes inked in with voodoo. Her hair was a tangle of fate 'round her head, so she cut it off madly, and colored it red. Her heart was a temple, without any worship, 'till spiders replaced lov

Suggested Collections

Poetry

Literature

Blood!

tumble face first out of bed into black leaf bramble maze stretched out run, run, you'd better fucking run past falling stars and frosted over street signs and slip, trip, fall scraped knees, but just a little blood, that's all stop crying, little girl stop it, hold on, slow the fuck down teeth chatter sort of morning, and in my chalk dust peripheral neon flow shadows scrabble claw for purchase eyelash tangle, desperate scramble for calm and a crooked BULLET PROOF grin and so the edges crack it's just a little more blood ooh baby, here she comes tentacle skulled and lamprey mouthed table top knife fight, bow to your opponen

Literature

LAB 009: Hobart-Hoffman Strains

friction spark heart kickstart sticky tick resin to enamel ghost touch liquid autumn glass, acrid sniper proxy kisses slow, roll, settle, pseudoseude creak binary nightlight retina stains fish hook imagination, boot scrape pebble rain cysts and cyanide staticshock therapy, dusty jazz vinyl skip scratch needling the groove ...and the fog clears, double snapshot flip focus upturned lip quirk, feather tip slide against the back of my throat chicago typewriter eyelash flutter against gunmetal mandel bullet straight to frontal lobe cortex jammer round, 0.2675 and I'm stuck on repeat, but it's riding naked naga come and go, green a

Literature

Court Ships

Lip split, quick wit, lyric spit. Shoulder slouch, safe slump slide back, and the cel-shade mind fuck chest punch of every word that claws its way up that coffee drenched throat, every cluttered boxcar train wreck scratched out onto cheap pulp paper. That fiercely beautiful brain forced into frantic fist spasms, and the brittle, brutal art created by having a pen between your fingers instead of a knife or a needle or nothing at all. Heart crush possibilities, dodged bullets kept like battle trophies, wounds I'd be honored to wash the dirt from. Just a baby as the wolf runs, but dead and dust as the crow flies,

Poetry, Art and Others

Laura2467 on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/laura2467/art/Destiel-Edit-556290515Laura2467

seffykoepsel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/seffykoepsel/art/Sam-Valentine-513569894seffykoepsel

seffykoepsel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/seffykoepsel/art/Crowley-Valentine-513569152seffykoepsel

poetry

Literature

Featherdance (Poem)

Listen closely, and you may hear The sound of sacred fire. Its ancestry flickers in a thousand Colors, all within the hearts of unborn heroes. Somewhere deep inside legend, A fringed master slumbers. Its breath sequesters beneath its beak As it dreams in molten gold. Six score, it has lain in wait For its kaleidoscopic guardian. A spirit akin to its veined own, In suit and solemn as he. The skies grow dapper without The grace of its marbled wings And the elegance of the feathers That heal the lame and the ungainly. Its dogs look toward the heavens, Listening for its sacred fire. The hours and the days atrophy And crumb

Literature

Lavender Town

What is that? What do you hear? You look as if You've seen a ghost. Let them speak to you; All their tormented souls Wish is for a living heart To become one with theirs. The plague of sorrow racks These doleful townsmen, As they wander vacant streets With hunched shoulders. He is crying for his mother; Can you feel his tears? You cannot, for you—you— You are like all the others. Please, be their guest, And let them creep beneath your skin. They mean you immortal joy, And no harm shall haunt you. No harm shall haunt you, But they shall instead, Their stoicism patient as they Wait for you to crumble. He is

Literature

Trust

Trust. It's something earned, Not given. It's like an ember of my heart, Placed inside yours To hold and protect. Extinguishing it or throwing it away Will break our bond, It may never be repaired. Don't try to steal an ember, For it's not rightfully yours Until I personally place it in your chest. Once it's there, It grows and strengthens Until it's a fire. A fire of trust That can't be extinguished That can't be thrown out. It will always be there, Linking me to you.

Featured in Groups

Something a little different - I know I have to break my stringent formatting with a different effort.

This is a step from normal - It came to my while I slept but forgot all of the lines only remembered the core plan and I've tried to replicate it.