A Slave To The Memories

I think about you all the fucking time
every since the day you left,
my mind has been fixed on your existence.
I grow anxiously tempted to hit your line,
but i hesitate because i know it’ll be a waste of time. I rewind the clock for a bit and start to reminisce about the good shit
mostly all of our experiences were heavily bliss. Who would have known that you’d pull off a miraculous disappearance trick. These days the thought of you grows stronger & the hour gets longer. You left me to be obsessively burned by the heat of your no return. As your absence prolongs I become a raisin bruised by the baking sun or that crop who wishes that the rain would come. I get a little delusional now days its usuals. These days i think i need therapy as i continuously hear your voice whispering to me I feel your presence as if you’re right next to me, but in reality you’re no where near my vicinity. You’ve widely contributed to the change of my activities. Throughout the day I can’t eat & I don’t do any of the things i use to. I guess I’m just not use to the thought of living without you. You’d think my troubles would ease at night, but it don’t it just repeats, overlaps & doubles when i lose sleep. I lay awake at the latest time flicking through photographs that i have sworn to delete. Here lies the strangest fatality
i am a slave to these memories who’s far in debt to reality.

@OfficialRussaw

Sip From My Soul (The Short Poem)

Sip From My Soul (The Short Poem)

Here take a sip of this, life
and get lost in the dark abyss
experience some joyful pleasures
that life may soon rebuttal with
soon after it, embrace the rain of pain
that leaves puddles of guilt
let the puddles continue to grow filth
and drown into a murky ocean
let the seas be parted but, not by the grace of a good heart
let the seas be depleted as the part creates a path for contamination
that unstable’s a noble heart
let a storm of regret build a form of hatred
as happiness is swept away from a nation
hope is allowed to dry as it remains as a raisin bruised by the baking sun
take a sip of my life feel the continuum of pain as it remains and explain to me what exactly is so spontaneous to
be blinded truthfully because your eyes lack its ableness to see reality.
If you will by the time you’ve experienced all of what I feel
you’d be physically exhausted and mentally ill
as you indulge into my experiences you’d be broken from an hour of its occurrences