top of page
  • Writer's pictureAnxious Poets Society


In silence with myself, every word and every sentence ricochets off the walls from the outside is the multidimensional reality that calls

The multidimensional reality where to some my lips speak gospel but to others speaks transgression

The piercing loud reality where I’m left with the bitter truth and desperate lonely aggression

Out of love with myself, The shattered distractions come hurdling fast into the crevices of my soul I lay on the floor and scramble for the pieces hoping to finally feel whole

The aching want to feel whole that resonates throughout my fragile bones The frantic need to be something more as I hungrily swallow these stones

In chaos with myself, I let you slip from my fingertips and watch you cascade across white tile I erratically fall back into memories and return to fucking bile

The bile that angrily ropes me in and keeps me in its grasp The intoxicating grasp along my neck that leaves my voice to a rasp

At crossroads with myself, I ask whether or not this beating heart inside me matters I look to those who look for me and I’m supposed to say yes, it's worth it, right?

Despite everything in front of me I cannot touch it I’m looking in the mirror and suddenly I’m not so sure

I’m not so sure


Mel O. Muell is a teenager from Wisconsin who enjoys film, history, art, and politics. She loves to connect with other people and wants to make a change in the world someday.

#silence #sentence #transgression #aggression #fragile #voice

12 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

I. Your skin is wet paste sticking to a hospital wristband Under an empty wide gaze that sees nothing. Though I imagine how pretty you must look With your friends at the park, Lying on a picnic table,

blank paper sheets waiting to be filled on the study table, she picked her pen up every ink burst’s her spell word by word, she started weaving kingdom—her utopia. before her eyes, an ethereal scenery

More powerful than a locomotive, able to leap reality in a single bound, it’s a nuclear bomb, it’s a super computer: it’s the age-old strain of virulent addiction. Once in its ravenous and raptor claw

bottom of page