Sense4MyThots

i dug myself a hole with no easy way to escape.   i don't have the shovel down here with me  and i don't know how to get out.  the thing is that there are people above ground  who know i'm around/alive but don't know that i'm in a hole. i want to call out but when i try  (or at least mean to)  the words vibrate up my throat  and by the time they're meant to leave my lips,  they mask themselves as deep sighs, or change to the automated response of "i'm okay" or go silent. and i sit here,  in the hole,  and it rains more often than not  and there's mud and things crawling out and my skin is cold and numb,  and i pluck at myself,  hoping that physical pain reawakens the part that has died inside of me  and i've become so afraid of disturbing other people's lives and i've convinced myself that i deserve this  and i will let this hole consume me. ...

Carry me home, return me to the ocean , to the warm embrace of icy waters. Let him swallow me whole, fill my lungs with the substance vital for all existence. Capsize all that encapsulates disorder. Carry me home, immerse me in its purity, It's transparency, the only way to filter out all my feculence is for Poseidon to let the ocean engulf me. Return me to the ocean, the caress of his waves to me, has always been soothing his arms the origin of my entity. Gushing waves my only source of serenity.  Carry me home,  I'm beyond fatigued, ultimately rest is all I seek. By: Ndalwentle Makunga

I feel like I’m painting a masterpiece for an audience of blind people... Always fascinated by what hovers above us, As a kid,  planes are what caught my eye, As a teen, adolescence is what got me high, But these days I’m drawn into what lies in the clouds and beyond . Telescoping,  Trying to find the centre of the Earth, So I place my chair in an observatory Sit down and stare; Look at the contradictions we lay upon ourselves... Look at the existence of mankind living under appalling conditions... Living a life held together by stitches..  Look at the kids that get boozed up and lose their self-respect just to spite their parents... I ask of nothing but for you to look at death with the eyes of the blind... Touch it. Feel it. Caress it . Because you’ll never see it unless it’s lying in an open casket. A sad sight ive already seen, I often see how people get torn between being bad to do good and speaking lies t...

They say; “Saying less is best”, But those are just sentiments of the repressed. The day-to-days of this world bottled up in their chest. Horrors that leave them tossing and turning with no rest. Inflicting pain on themselves, the only “plausible” escape. A few slits on the wrist, Vision starts to fade as her sight turns to mist. Her life slowly slipping though her clinched fists. Frustrations sitting comfortably on the shoulders. If she survives, Suffocation her next attempt. They say; “Love is for the weak, An excuse for two people to meet”, But those are just sentiments of people that need it most. I’m talking about those that carry themselves like amphibians. Cold-blooded when they speak. As if ice was stuck between their teeth. Wakes up every morning driven by greed. More than two decades of existence and not a single good deed. Hurting from lingering grief. Reaching out to him deemed ...