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Rayan 12h
The morning light is
judgement day.
Like life's lingering memorial to inadequacy,
it is a death determined on slow demise.

Exacerbated exhaustion,
£s pounding your brain and taxing souls.

Bedroom shade, blissful sheets and bold coffee are
barless enclosures,
like spindles
patient for a maiden's finger.
Rain 16h
There is a heaviness within me
that never leaves,
no matter what I do,
no matter what I say.

Omnipresent,
like a death sentence:
slow,
cruel.

My thoughts are curses,
blasphemous, dark, vile,
a constant sacrilege
against a power too great
to subjugate.

I'm held in chains,
my humanity a gift
wrapped in a cage.

I try to run,
but it claws at my skin.

Now I'm left
with bones and veins,
dragging myself through the sand
as the clock ticks,
a reminder
that my time will soon end.

My arms flail in despair,
reaching for an anchor
before I vanish
into an abyss
too vast to comprehend.

Yet an echo chants in verses,
a lament of truth
that feels like a burden:

All is fleeting.
Nothing stays.

Love comes in waves.
It drowns you
in euphoric bliss,
where two souls intertwine
for a single kiss.

Then you're alone,
washed up on the shore,
wondering
when it began
and how it came to end.

You bask in the light of happiness,
but darkness always follows,
leaving you cold and hollow.

Only death is certain.
Only you exist.

Others are but mirrors.
Their reflections never change,
a constant dissonance
between who I am
and what I try to escape.

I've been cast out of heaven
to rot in this hell,
among demons and devils
whose desires drip like venom.

Greed in their eyes,
wrath in their hearts,
sweet nothings
masked beneath lust.

Cleanse me of this place.

Burn me:
sevenfold,
tenfold.

Rid me of this plane.

Banish me to silence,
where death does not toll,
to the place where time
exists only as a shadow.
Noise, all I hear, this loud head,
Suggestions for all the ways to be
A vacuum, a void, with things left unsaid,
A voice unheard, left in the dark,
Tastes unseen, fear that they'd disappear
After a while, differences seem stark,
A clean room, on a bad day, appears a mess,
The walls seem to talk, with silence looming,
The quiet beckons me to a game of chess,
"How long can you play", it asks, "till you stop?
I can go on, it's my favourite game,
Will you keep going, until you drop,
Until you're nothing, till you forget your name?"
.
i made the front door my enemy
staying inside to concentrate
               on written projects
i devilled away days                    
exorcised away my rights
                to the world out there

now (with projects complete)    
i approach the door
     theorize that I am wanted beyond 
                      to receive sustenance
                       and be free of my aches ...

... or
      to become sustenance                      
give in to my condition
      to pass back my remaining value   
hand in my report        
           with the staples removed
be resolved                                  
as some gaseous defeat

i bravely open the door             
there is no attack by nature
nor any euphoric reward
       i am left alone to feel my own way
to give and receive breaths
                steps are taken                                           
and signals interpreted
rejoining the world                    
as if uninterrupted
minor alterations made. originally written approx summer 2024
the hour is late
fears keeping you wake
it's all in your head
it's all in your head

the nightmare is nigh
in your tired eye
it's creeping nearby
it's creeping nearby

the danger exists
it's still in your head
it will never end
it will never end
for us anxious folks, the distinction between what's real and what's not can become meaningless
Viktoriia Jun 22
you can't stop hearing it,
that signal, being transmitted
on all channels,
filling those frequencies to the brim.
not a single gap in between
for your own voice;
too quiet for others to notice,
loud enough to make you paranoid.
what if they know it's there,
but would rather pretend
for the sake of not getting involved
with another basket case?
what if there's no one else?
what if you made them up
so that you wouldn't feel as lonely?
the ups and downs of laughter,
interrupted by helpless sobs.
there might be someone out there,
but all you hear is noise;
too distant for others to notice,
too intrusive for you to ignore.
transmitted on all channels,
not a single pause in between
for your own voice
sending out a distress message,
wondering if anyone knows
you're still here.
Ian Starks Jun 21
The box said
‘1,000 pieces’
Yet the picture is complete.

I watch from the lid—
unfitted.

There was never room
for 1,001.
O heart, soul, core, me:
If I do exist,
I am exactly pristine in condition
Under the surface of a pond
Frozen in eternal ice.

O want, wish, will, dream:
The ice that denies life,
Sapping its oppressive strength,
Transforming its innocent weakness;
Making brittle the bold,
Making hard the soft.

O form, frame, flesh, face:
The palm of my hand
Is spread against the bottom of the ice,
Reaching up as though to grasp
All the nothing I aspire to.
how cold is the beauty and perfection of appearance
Cadmus May 29
Once infected,

you’re bound to lose,
friends,
family,
lovers,
Business.

Faith brands you a heretic.

Power erases you.

Not because truth is evil,
but because it’s untamed
and the world prefers masks
that never slip.

They said truth sets you free , they forgot to mention it frees you from everyone.

☔️
Nick May 28
The separation caused by conflicts left me in despair,
yearning to see my dad subsequently,
like an unconditionally loving couple being in the presence of those they love.

But the consistent isolation continues,
manifesting to spend more time together before he passes.

As I become older, life will be filled with persistent responsibilities,
leaving me with defective opportunities to spend time with those whom I love,
increasing loneliness and fear.

So I continue to manifest,
wishing for any opportunities to spend continuous time with my dad,
despite present complications,
due to his and my mother’s hard efforts,
to raise a child who will be more successful than they are.
This poem is about the separation between my parents, which has led to the challenges I face.
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