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 Jun 2017 CapsLock
What I Feel
Hair
 Jun 2017 CapsLock
What I Feel
Sit
and place your hands somewhere you cannot reach.
Breathe
just like each day you've lived and breathed before.
Feel
the tension building up within your spine.
Try
to fill your shaking hands with something new.
Fail
to keep your brittle, breaking will in check.
Run
your fingers through the graveyard on your head.
Fight
the urge that wants to pull you to the edge.
Lose
yourself in treacle truths and bitter tastes.
One.
You find that bare and balding patch of skin.
Ten.
Each pluck removes a tiny piece of sin.
Thirty.
The pain reminds your mind that you're alive.
Forty.
The shame reminds your heart you want to die.
Fifty.
Demonic hungers spur your fingers more.
Sixty.
And hair by hair you carpet wooden floors.
Eighty.
You picture faces of the ones you love.
Ninety.
Your innocence lives like a dying dove.
Hairs
in hundreds lie around your pillowcase,
around, not on, your sore and bleeding scalp.
Each time you vow to never pick again,
but Trich plays tricks and makes you take his help.
This poem is about my hair condition Trichotillomania (pronounced trick-o-till-o-may-nee-ah). Whilst I do sometimes pull subconsciously, most of the time it is an extremely compulsive urge, which is what this poem addresses.
Here is a link to give you more information on the condition: http://www.trichotillomania.co.uk/about_trichotillomania/diagnosis.htm
 Jun 2017 CapsLock
aviisevil
There was a time when I wanted to fly. There was a time when I wanted to feel as alive as possible. Now I'm just scared. Afraid, of how things can go wrong in one second. One moment you are someone and the other moment someone else. There's no story here. No words or figures. Just me. Just me and you. I don't know why you're here. I don't want to know. But I know you know what I'm talking about. You know the pain. We all do. If you don't, just pretend you're lucky. Because you're not.

Pain is universal for us. We can't possibly imagine a world without pain. We pretend it is something evil and cursed. Something rotten and broken. But it's not. It's the only truth other than death. That's the only thing that will still hold your hand when you're waiting for death to come. It is your most trustworthy friend. The only true friend that let's you be.

Death takes you away. Happiness makes you forget who you really are. But pain. Oh, the pain. How many countless artists and art has been made because of pain ?. Almost all of it. Because pain teaches you about a world that is far and isolated from everything. Where you can be truly you. At your best and worst.

But I don't like pain. It's just not for me. I don't thrive in pain. I give myself up. Some people create when they're in pain. I destroy. You can make art both ways. You just can't choose which one belongs for you. And it's killing the world.

The problem in the world is that we're all afraid. We're all afraid to love and be ourselves. We can blame it on everything else but honestly it's our fault. It's inside us and we weren't taught to respect it, we weren't taught to separate pain from love. For us it's the opposite faces of the same coin. Pain is not absence of love, Nor is love presence of happiness. It's born inside everyone differently. It's like our DNA, different for everybody.





We're not taught about freedom anymore. But rules and laws. We're not taught about how we can be ourselves but how we can be someone else. It's a race and we're all losing. We're all losing because there's no finish line. We're all just running because the first guy began to run and then the next followed him. Now anyone who doesn't run will find himself lonely. There's nobody left standing still. Everybody is busy in running to no where. The world feels small now. The universe feels explored. There are more answers to questions now, but we're still clueless.




There is more love to be had now more than ever. There are so many of us now.

But where is love ?. Where is this magical thing. Where does it hide ?.

When I was little I searched for it in people. When I grew up I searched for it in my heart. And today, with a broken heart I know where it is.

Far and unreachable but somewhere beautiful and warm.


There's no pain as the pain from a broken heart. It swallows every inch of your body, your soul, along with every positive energy in the world. It swallows time itself.

The worst part is, even if you could go back and change things... you wouldn't.

That's not love. That's the pain.

That's the pain telling you that you not only need something but something that was a part of you is missing.

The pain is what keeps the love alive and in a way keeps the world alive.

And We'll be nothing without love.

Not with our skyscrapers and latest technology, addictions and trends.

Have you ever met a man who lost on love ? Who saw his love slowly walk away leaving him alone in the universe.

Do you think he still enjoys good food or music ?

Do you think those things matter anymore ?

Love is magical. Magic does not exist. It only appears in a moment briefly only to disappear.

Leaving you scratching your head because you have no clue what hit you.

Getting hit by a train is better, some would say. It's not even anywhere close in my opinion.

And when you're in that pain. You realise there's no difference between love and pain.

But the difference you make.

It's as much more important to heal the world today than live within ourselves in pain.

It's as much more important to stop running for a moment and see around ourselves. See if somebody needs to be picked up.

And love is the only thing strong enough to make us stop.

But you now what ?.

Pain is the only thing that will make you stay.
It's an excerpt from something I was writing once.
 Jun 2017 CapsLock
Olivia Still
Laying in my bed
airplanes overhead
trains clack along
cars spout music I can't understand

Poster on the wall moved by the wind
drapes dance, tied to the souls
that still waltz among us.

The heat weighs down
constraining me to my thoughts.

Don't fall asleep, there are worse places than this.
Leave them to tomorrow.
 Jun 2017 CapsLock
Allyssa
These flames licked up the best of me,
Turmoil excluded me from happiness,
Heat melted my candle wax of a heart.
I say candle wax because steel can be penetrated and stitches rot.
Candle wax was never supposed to burn without the wick but here we are.
Here I am.
Burning.
That campfire of an unworldly place made me scared to proceed in life as well as to love.
Should I be afraid? 
I don't know.
Can I trust this world and what it has to offer?
I don't know what it hides.
I'm trusting you,
I'm trusting your world,
I'm trusting in your faith.
Love me unconditionally please,
Building my heart once again out of the soft candle wax to hopefully have your hands mend it into something more primitive,
Raw.
I trust you.
Maybe trying again might be okay.
 Jun 2017 CapsLock
Jenna Kay
I'm standing towards the sun
The light warms my hands, my chest, my face
I imagine it enveloping my body, draping, holding
My palms are open wide
My heart expanding
Reaching
For the sunlight is not shining quick enough
And I yearn to be closer
Warmer
Until the fire in my eyes matches that of the blaze inside
Night is creeping behind, persuading sweet amnesia
But She does not realize that Her darkness has already painted armor around me
Black as the sky I once fell into
And stronger than Her voice
And She will tear as my temples and attempt to whisper into my accepting ears
But Day has graced a golden helmet upon my head
A crown of battles to me fought
And wars to be won
And I will reach for Day's hand, our dream becoming my weapon

I cried in blues the other night
The blue of rising morning light
And I had never felt more beautiful
 Feb 2017 CapsLock
King Panda
my
intestines tighten
the patient begging
parts
the tears
how I do
grow wet
leavening
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