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Jesse stillwater Aug 2018
Marooned  land-locked
    on  island  earth

Born with an orphan’s
    unknowable ache

Born with an empath heart
– always feeling too much –
mystic receptors wide awake
    in a highly sensitive soul

It’s as if I've walked along
      forever alone,
    one step at a time,
    lost in a restless nebula
from the earth to the moon

Consciously dreaming
      to steal away, 
bearing the weight of the sky, 
upwards over the mountain,
away from these chains
         that bind

    The maelstroms echo
behind silenced, probing eyes
with an unsated thirst
      to be wanted
    dead or otherwise:

Never understanding
    the reasons why,
spinning around in my head;
where "once upon a time"
        was hidden,
        buried alive              

A lifetime spent trying
    to unlearn the things
    I wish I’d never
    sought to know,
    clinging to the love
I've touched in my life
  evermore enwombed
       in my heart

    Passing milestones:
walking another barefoot mile
passing so many locked doors
    without keyholes
– way outside the lines –

    Choking on all
    the latent words
      lay fallow, 
      left unsaid 
Always looking for
something dreamt
but seldom manifest 

Growing so tired and weary
with no one standing by my side;  
no one to lay down beside me
    to take a rest for awhile

Just another chapter
in a timeless same old story;
  another dark star
      burned – out
      – vanished –
into the utter obscurity
of a sky so close and yet
       so far away...


Jesse Stillwater ... August 22, 2018
Thank you for reading ...
bri Jul 2018
She blossoms later than most,
she's been through
the tragedies of life already.
Life hits her harder,
she feels more deeply.
bri Aug 2018
life is never fair;
why is it that
the good die young
& the bad live freely?

that's why people give up,
why people break down.
nothing they do is good enough,
why people end their life too soon.

the irony is
that the good
will continue to die young
because their whole life
they've been told
they aren't good enough
or worse,
they are 'too much'

too sensitive,
too quiet,
too observant,
too introverted,
too curious,
too independent,
too careful,
too blunt,
too caring,
too honest,
too, too much.

but really,

they are too little of everything you are too much of.
duende;

(n.) the mysterious power of art to deeply move a person
K Jul 2018
I.

He has a habit of picking flowers
and putting them in waterless vases

He plants poppies and marigolds on his bedroom floor
Nettles grow where his feet fall

He becomes another bloom
Without sun nor rain

He lies down in the green
Withering

II.

When he is happy
It feels like I'm putting my tongue to a 9 volt battery
He rushes through my veins
Shocking my system
Sparking me up like a cigarette
Giving me energy I've never known

When he is depressed
It's like drinking battery acid
His kisses spill darkness into me
My body attempts to filter the black tar
Leaking from his lips
There's a heaviness that doesn't go away

It lingers in my chest as he does when he's happy
Tiny flower buds atop
Little floating feathers
Growing
Tickling
Filling me up

When he is sad
They do not float
6 tons of flowers and feathers still weigh the same as 6 tons of steel
Crushing
Crushing
Withering

III.

My love lies bleeding
Among the green sprouting around him

You cannot purge darkness
Into porcelain with fingers down your throat

How am I to pull these weeds
Fighting the vines twisting inside me, whispering

"Lie down beside him
And wither too"
I take everything to heart,
So watch what you say.
It'll run through my head
And bounce around my brain.

I don't know if it's the hormones,
Or my talent of overthinking,
But something isn't right in me.
I feel like I'm sinking.

I'll take everything to heart,
Even if you don't mean it that way.
I'll let it settle within my ears,
Make me sick to my chest all day.
nihiliti Jun 2018
fragile as an egg
I crack my skull over the page
and astral project my discontent
in order to witness my disconnect

the black oozes out
and takes its sweet time
to reach for the sheets
of paper to rhyme
my disillusionment
with suffering not mine
it speaks to me
all of the time

grasping the page
black eases in
to fill the void again
in vain attempt to connect
the patterns perceived
by my hand-selected memories

filed all orderly
they spill out in a heap
and soak in paper-deep
it's not enough
and it will never be enough
but blood must be spilled
in order to keep
my gods alive

they wane with the tides
sanguine and weak
I give all I have
but it rarely seems
to have an effect other than
a brief reprieve
for myself
it doesn't help
or decrease
their suffering...

so I weave words together
to spellbind the weather
from washing away
all I've worked to achieve
and perceive with augury
and sorcery and poetry
all scratched in the earth
so the world might hear me

vocalizations and invocations
fail to sway the rocks--
stone-faced, anthropomorphic rocks
--that just stare at me
secretly laughing
they're happy
their suffering

my gods are dying!
and I'm trying
to find a cure
but it isn't working
and more and more
I'm sure that


a congregation of one is not enough
Is it all in my mind, or have I seen too much?
Juansen Dizon Feb 2018
i overthink.
i over love.
i over feel.

i am the sea
or i am nothing.
Lari Z Jan 2018
your happiness is my joy
your grief, my burden

I laugh when you laugh
I cry beside you

When you are angry, I lash out
I panic when you are anxious

but is it you or me?
and does it matter?

I am only built for my own emotions...
either i'm highly sensitive or too empathic or it's all in my head.
Selcæiös Jan 2018
An empath
Just a ProSonderer
Nothing more
But quick to learn
every human’s soul
will be instinctively felt
just as the breeze flows
through that open window

A soul
it’s wandering to your heart’s beat
on rare occasion it deviates from the tune
nothing more

—Because you don’t acknowledge
its existence yet;
Could you truly expect to progress
in finding your soul’s mate
when you don’t even know your spirit’s home?—

A pair of souls is always made from a single star
so when you find another
that renders your talkative self speechless
or leaves your smooth conversing ways to only a stutter
Find another that leaves you in awe and wonder
that makes your chest feel comfort in the ache
when you're longing not only at midnight
but in public midday for that other

if its a flame
that just won't fade
no matter how long you stay
tell yourself to not push this one away
you're not in danger anymore

let that person breach your barricades
allow them a chance to understand your spirit’s ways
you'll soon stop automatically
encouraging them to go
the day will arrive when you won’t be itching to show them the door

chances are you'll find
nothing's worth more
then an empath finding their
lone star soul in their own time

And as a sondering empath
I understand having that
(impenetrably
-fragile only to a certain fine-tuned touch-
translucent but sporadically opaque)
guard with others
Seems like a darkly humored folklore
a normal person’s usual day
is just a daunting notion due to exhaustion from feeling everyone's emotion
but when you meet that one
you won't just understand their soul
you'll have a brand new reading
and it’ll feel horrifyingly confusing

just remember there's a first time for everything
when that someone intuitively understands you.
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