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These Words Aren't Weapons

Robert Jepson, 25, UK. Unpretentious Poetry.

Icons, Idols and a Sacrifice

23. September 2014

I haven’t figured life out
I don’t know my role
beings I don’t believe in
battle for my soul.

The icons and idols
carved on cathedral walls
don’t fight away voices
when the devil calls.

Sometimes I feel held down
like I’m chained to my bed
but I gave up on bondage
so maybe granite thoughts in my head?

An angel came along
I was her’s to save
how could it work
when I can’t behave.

I served my heart to that angel
upon a silver platter
but now her white robe
is covered in blood splatter.

They say I must be lonely
if I’m looking for love
to kiss the bright light
of the divine above.

The bigots will say
that our love is wrong
and that their home
isn’t where I belong.

They say about their golden gates
I just couldn’t care
I think that they’re right
I prefer the flames I can’t bare.

I lay in my bed
and I stare at the ceiling
I’m there for an hour
lost in this feeling.
It’s like I’m not living
just waiting for time to pass
thoughts don’t form alone
they come along in mass.
I can’t focus.
I can’t write.
I can’t live.
I can’t fight.

Departure Times

22. September 2014

thesewordsarentweapons:

Today
I was sat on that train
as it stood still
in that station.
I used to get off here
but now
I stay sat in my seat.
I though about getting off
and coming to say I’m sorry.
Instead
I stay sat there like a statue
and when I was asked
“Is this your stop”
I said
“No, I just want to leave this city”

Departure Times

21. September 2014

Today
I was sat on that train
as it stood still
in that station.
I used to get off here
but now
I stay sat in my seat.
I though about getting off
and coming to say I’m sorry.
Instead
I stay sat there like a statue
and when I was asked
“Is this your stop”
I said
“No, I just want to leave this city”

I’m past the point
of highs and lows.
Just lows
just falling
forever falling
but I’m not afraid
of hitting the floor
instead hoping.
I’m tired of falling
feeling alone
feeling lost.
I thought
I would have to strap in 
for this bumpy ride
but my descent
has been clean
almost elegant
like the cursive
penmanship
of a master.
It’s like i’m going
though the motions
of putting my signature
upon the page
of my life.

Thinking of you

15. September 2014

I better lock these thoughts away.

It hit me hard
it hit me fast
heartbreak hurts
heartbreak lasts.

It is not that I hate myself
but instead
that I see nothing to love.

Depression

10. September 2014

It grabs me
again and again

Accusing Losing Blues

9. September 2014

thesewordsarentweapons:

A beaten dog will cower
or bare its teeth
both signify a pain
that lies beneath.
Ex-lovers of mine
cast in a shadow of your past
you struggled to trust me
from the first to the last.
Some were indeed lovers
some were friends
some,
just a means to an end.
I never walked down the aisle
I never said I do
but how could you think
I would be unfaithful to you.
I understand why
I understand your fears
but you pushed away
someone who cares.
I hope that you know
it wasn’t the reason I left.
I’m sorry you cried
left bereft
it’s just it dawned me
like a new day
that fighting your fears
wasn’t a reason to stay.

(via thesewordsarentweapons)

I miss the way
your eyes sold trouble
and the way your body moved
made it double.
I’d give anything
to go back there
to bite your lips
and pull your hair.
You’d look at me
and ask if my body’s able
I’d throw you up
on the bar room table
here, there
even the office chair
you looked so good
your body stripped bare.

Self depreciation
frustration
I need
a vacation
elation
salvation

I don’t remember eating lead
but I can feel a weight
maybe it’s dread.

thesewordsarentweapons:

Yet again
your eyes said
“I told you so”
mine replied with
“please just go”
A chance to leave
when we got to a junction
but you followed me still
as I followed disfunction.

(via thesewordsarentweapons)

thesewordsarentweapons:

Anger manifests
storm clouds break
thunder roars
what we make.
In a brain
an electric storm
the rage inside
a filthy form
a filthy form
a filthy form
a filthy form.
Written in blood
on glass
easy to smear
unable grasp.
The storm of century
its lasts one day
what was the damage?
its too hard to say.

(via thesewordsarentweapons)