One Chance

By Whit

Rushing up
Running to the darkness

Meet me there
See my scars
See my bitter bleeding heart
And give me one more start

Show me hope
Show me love
Show me just how good life can be
And give me a new start

I want to live2017-07-23 19_53_15-Whitney L Morgan
See it all
Experience life
Please God
Give me a new start

Pierce my soul
See my secrets
And love me anyways

Just give me.

-W

 

Advertisements

Semi-Conscious

By Whit

And on the edge of my sanity
It all comes back to me
In the semi-conscious state of mind
between wake and sleep.

The memories rushing in
clear and hazy, defined and distorted all at once
Threatening to take hold and never let go.

I toss and turn, punch and kick,
whimper and silently scream
fighting myself.

Taste of fear and blood and violence
the feel of smooth betrayal done
on the semi-conscious.

I hear the soft click of a lock
hushed malevolent whispers
I hear rumbling laughter at my expense.

Oblivion sets in for a spell
then I hear them again before unconsciousness
steals my reactions from me.

I wake from my drug induced sleep
take in fully my naked vulnerability
The voice of a friend, A FRIEND, who is the leader
in this crime against my body.

No oblivion comes to hinder
my possible fight to protect and preserve
I turn my head and find again my voice.

A throat parched with horror croaks out
a trying scream
Male laughter mixed with confusion.

A deep breath, I scream
with all the might of desperation
All I know is the scream.

Strangers pour into the room
my girlfriend comes and runs them off
She picks me up and dresses me.

I’m late getting home, find my knife,
I’ll kill them myself
WHO DID THIS TO ME?

Cut off from all emotional acknowledgement
in my waking hours
I build the walls around the nightmare.

There is no denying what it is,
what I feel, semi-conscious
In the time between wake and sleep.

Hurt, shame, betrayal, rage, and suffering
all aimed at myself
But I felt no pity.

Heart clutching fear, seeing my friend
on the street, at the fair
Ice cold panic courses my veins.

-W

rape44444

Image from: india.com

waves
link

By Jenn

Missing you comes at me in waves
Brutally crashing against my face
I’ll tell my mind to stop, but it never behaves
Looking for ways to keep that memory safe, beautiful in our secret place

Most days the waves are kind and small
Your words run through my mind, keeping me in a silent purgatory
Your voice thickens the air around me, making me stumble and fall
Your promise echos in my ear saying “hey, let me tell you a story”

I know it’s wrong, I know you’re wrong
But that doesn’t stop my mind from replaying your breath dancing off the back of my neck
It was so safe and warm and happy knowing you were there all along
But now the ache of your absence brings a fear I can’t seem to check

Missing you comes at me in waves
Should we finally lay our heads in those self-induced graves
Always connected together forever for all of those who tore us apart to see
And then maybe, just maybe they will finally let us be

My Room

By Whit

In the solitude of my small room

I read and write and dream of tomorrow.

I lock out the world of cruel reality

and fantasize of better or worse happenstance.

In my inconsequential room

I am free from society

free of insecurity and belittling.

I am free to listen to the music that I wish to hear

And can talk to friends and loves

who exist only in my writing

20170723_191757

 

 

I can express myself even if it makes no sense.

 

I can live and experience greater things in the freedom,

 

the solitude of my room, with child-like imagination.

 

Though I go out to reality and socialize, go with life;

I do my living in my room.

Make Believe

dead rose

 

By Jenn

  • There once was this little girl
    Who sat alone in the dark
    Wishing she was anyone but who she really was
  • There once was this little girl
    Who made up her own little world
    Safe in her little blue room
    She twirled, she spun, she sang then she’d bow
    And all the pretend people cheered
  • There once was this little girl
    Who just needed someone to love her, though she didn’t know that’s what she needed
    She searched her whole little life, looking to fill a void
    Searching for that one little place that she felt truly safe
    Somewhere she could just be her happy little self
  • There once was this little girl
    Who lived inside this big girl, with big dreams
    But both girls were filled with fear, self doubt
  • But one day there was this boy
    Who instantly understood that little girl and made her laugh harder than anyone else
    He was kind, handsome and full of life
    With his crooked smile, dimples and his crooked way of looking at life
    He was everything she didn’t know she needed
  • One day this boy showed this girl what life could be like
    They fit together like puzzle pieces
    Making a beautiful picture full of color, love, laughter and sunshine
    The thing is, when you’re a broken little girl
    You always think love comes with strings
  • There once was a girl who fell for
    A boy who didn’t expect anything from her
    Who looked at her like she was magic and made her feel safe
    Who made her laugh and smile harder than anyone else
    But instead of letting him love her, she pushed him down and ran away
  • So that little girl lost her handsome prince
    Because who wants to love someone who doesn’t know what that means
    Now she sits in her room, imagining
    Playing pretend in her head to fill the void
    Knowing she would never feel that safe or happy again

 

Dear Lord

Dear Lord,

Stop the pain.  Please.

By Whitney

Dear Lord,

Stop the pain. Please?! Stop the murderous rage coursing through my veins.

Stop the tears, the dry tears running down my pale cheeks.

Nobody can see.

My body is shaking, craving a cure bigger and better than cancerous nicotine.

My mind is tumorous, crazy, needing more than just illegal drugs.

Nobody can tell.

Dear Lord,

The pressures and demands, the stress and problems, all unload onto me.

Can no one see my shoulders are no longer as broad?

I can’t take on the world.

When once strong, I am now weaker than the weakest being alive.

When once I had all the answers , now in their place questions are all I find.

Solving them is no longer an opportunity, it went in his moment of lust.

Dear Lord,

Can no one see I just need to be left along?

I’m more lonely in a crowd than locked in my room…by myself…

Alone.

Dear Lord,

You all say everything will be fine, I just need some help.

Support.

But no one can.

How can you support me if you don’t understand me?

Can’t look into my soul and tell what you see.

How could you see my soul when it’s unclear to even me,

hazy misty fog.

Does anyone even truly see as far as my heart?

is there one left?

It’s been torn and ripped apart so much that if I have one, it is surely pale as scars.

Dear Lord,

Is there a meaning to my life besides being a toy to be crushed in the of men?

Countless nameless cruelties done to me which return to terrorize my dreams.

Is there ever a decent nights sleep, more beyond a tireless few hours?

How I yearn for a peaceful eight hour nights sleep filled with child-like fantasy.

How i wish for this deeply ingrained terror to leave me be.

Who knows when I’ll wake up with a knife in my hand again?

I fear my sleep for to sleep long and deep meant to flashback and die all over again.

Slow and painful death each time I remember, each nightmare revisited.

Dear Lord,

Stop the pain. Please.

2017-07-23 18_48_39-(2) Whitney L Morgan

A Doves Cry

Hey loves, after the lightheartedness of my Bio and the rough brashness of my introduction post, I thought it would be good to show you some soft sorrow. A small tug on your hearts to ease you into my soul. The accompanying picture I captured over at my mom’s house two weekends ago and I felt it would highlight this poem of mine form 1999 nicely.

Kisses

W

By: Whit

A doves cry on a lonely night,

a doves heartbreak to mend the plight.

Weeping earnestly to find

the salve for the wounds of mankind.20170618_190302

Where once love had reigned

all empowered and victorious

Now all that is left is a

tortured body from materialism.

And a doves cry rings out

deeply into the lonely night

For the battered remains of

a garden pure.