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Every time i think I’ve hit the bottom there is another hole in the floor. Searching for my way out but i cant find the door.
Unstable and unsteady again and again i fall, i am worried when its over there will be nothing left at all.
Crumbling all around me so much that needs repair. Do i keep on  holding it together not giving into despair.
I long for peace like a desert longs for rain, but here i am falling through chaos and pain.
This grief so heavy rising is a chore. Half afraid of /half longing for the day i wont rise anymore.
Just the honest truth my insides feel like a battle torn waste, but on the outside i pull it all back put a smile on my face.
Like planting roses for a structure that has been condemned. Trying to protect something precious but not equipped to defend.
Living in this pattern of hold it together, cry out, crawl, and fall. Nothing that i do seems to matter at all.
Left wondering why i keep fighting when it seems to all end in a mess. I don’t want perfect i just don’t want Aching emptiness.
they say when life is over to heaven we will fly
from our life on earth we must say goodbye
to heaven up above a million miles away
where we can rest in peace where the angels stay

to a land of love safe for evermore
side by side together with angels we will soar
waiting for our loved ones when they are angels to
united once again in the sky so blue

safe forever more we will always be
united with our friends and our family
in heaven up above a million miles away
at peace for ever more where the angels stay
 May 23 Zeno
collin
parallel
 May 23 Zeno
collin
i know she’s more than capable
she left me at the table
the lines we drew won’t intersect
it’s probably best we never met
 May 23 Zeno
Chandy
Clarity
Truth of the mind
Does it foster love?
Or does it foster chaos?
Lateral truth
Lateral violence
How many have died
Fighting for lies?
 May 23 Zeno
Maryann I
I cradle aches
like heirlooms—
not mine,
but remembered

deep in the joints of memory,
where silence once slept
in rooms with hollow lullabies.

I press cool cloths
to fevered skin
with hands that once reached
into shadow
and came back empty.

Now they are full—
of bandages,
of borrowed grace,
of tenderness sewn like stars
into every rough seam.

I stir soup
as if it were a spell,
watching steam rise
like ghosts of things
I used to need:

a steady voice,
a soft no,
arms that didn’t shake.

To care
is to time-travel—

to give the child inside me
what she never received
by giving it
to someone else.

Each thank you
is a stitch
in the tear I carry.


Each healed wound
in another
is a whisper to mine:
you’re not forgotten.
“You like taking care of people because it heals the part of you that needed someone to take care of you.”
 May 23 Zeno
Robin Edwards
Suddenly we see
At the corners of our eyes
The cost of our love
 May 23 Zeno
lizie
Untitled
 May 23 Zeno
lizie
emotional pain doesn’t have a home,
but physical pain does.
that’s why i cut.
 May 23 Zeno
Agnes de Lods
In our unfinished garden,
warm stones resting atop one another,
forming a wobbly tower,
trying to connect with a true light.

Above the smoky air, faltering steps,
can I see the true shape of your struggles?
Does a malicious gnome
shape my projections?
He topples our confidence.

Do we know if we still want the same?

Your anesthetic drops,
drunk in secret behind smiles.
Your cruelty is a sarcastic, sober blow,
breaking down fleeting joy.

I long for stillness,
for a day without wrinkles.
Why do we argue for first place?
I lost to our demons, invisible enemies.
I heal my fading certainty,
Last night, I dreamt of a well,
repeating my thoughts.

Without context, we are lost,
surrounded by thick walls built by rifts.
We are still impatient for closeness.
We grapple with a weight of assumptions.

Seeing the tower of wobbly stones,
I don’t want to let go of your hands
trusting, warmly kind,
like a promise of endless green,
in our unfinished garden.
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