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Atypnoc May 2015
I always know I'm lonely
as is now.
I care none for arguing nostalgia is but a phantom;
I candidly hint generous,
retrospective tint arose
but born in hues of solitude
by thorns to dues that use what we lose to Make most of the points we include.
Atypnoc Nov 2015
You became my idol
and I became idle.
I don't blame you,
you've always been the same.
It was my mistake
to shake the heart awake
was just
to make it break apart.

To gaze from nowhere to the sky
at night, as it is starry,
are all the ways I bare as why
for bright, I am so sorry.
I remember how it hurts but I can't remember when it stops.
Atypnoc Jan 2016
I can wait.

Since I lost account for it,
Leaving just a base line to keep track
Of that which spits without a face
Is a hypocrite that leaves us with no prints
Relieves a chance for chase,

So I can wait.
Atypnoc Mar 2015
They say that all will heal with time
And perhaps this is the truth
For those who fear heights at some point decline to climb
But passing suns just smear what past to youth
Atypnoc Apr 2015
TIME

I'm running out
Of confidence
Of common sense
My confidants are on the fence
Confederate incompetence
Forgetting what it represents
Refraction second somnolence
Relinquish rests recognizance

Iconic pass Aphrodite
Icon platon-ic and mighty
Contend   in    gin   and   tonic
Vigor fighting
   compulsion flighty
Rigor biting
   revulsionninglory sighting
And the lighting
Lends lonely writing
Recommends  a tone reciting
I'm alright
I'm all right
We all write
I'm all right

Racing rounded repression
I have a confession
Profound stead impression
Confounded live session
Astounding is sounding
Like bound bring recession
Inbound will resound
In grins drowned sting depression
Sing out, it's my confession!
My ground is regression!
Atypnoc Jan 2015
All it takes is you believing
we could make this work,
    but leaving
         just to lurk
    prompting grieving
         just to perk
                me up ascending on some chariot you broke
                            defending all the arson in the mirrors with the smoke
I cough, and choke
til I awoke
       the words still stuck inside my throat
       you swore you wrote this swollen note
Tell me then, pleading, revoke
to which you reply, I misspoke.

All it takes is you believing
faintly, even so
I'll pound pavement retrieving
anything we need to go.

All it takes is you believing
and I'll vicious fight our cause
til I'm buried or I'm ashes
consuming body by my mind
which precedence for you defined
to hush protests below mustaches
bristled veil the daily grind
and anyone leaves us behind
sees our reflections brightly shined
and they all crashes
and they all crashes

all it takes is you believing.
Atypnoc Feb 2015
Remotely whet my appetite
Might as well try it
What incited this riot!
Expansion instead will I write
From four letters beyond our two words
Until some future thoughts take flight
Crossing greater expanse than do birds
From this dizzying height
Somehow gains me insight
Ignites
Pure white
Technicolored invite burning
Brilliant despite
Me
No matter how bright

To define the way you make me feel tonight
To hell with the line, say take me, **** polite
TORCHISTRA
Atypnoc Dec 2015
I was young, we were naive
we knew we had the option, but didn't see why anyone would ever leave
it was easier back then to give the benefit of doubt
to all the words rolling off of a forked tongue
it was easy to believe
when we were young. We were naive.
Atypnoc Jul 2015
Without fail the Ego death
Exhales at loss, in every breath
Atypnoc Feb 2015
I don't know where, if it will end.
Refuse to voice or recommend.
To treat what ails us is pretend.
Slips through fingers apprehend.

To help more than to hurt,
reflexive sunny disposition
which can cradle sallow sleeping stoic pride.
Distinguishing the dirt,
collective run beside conviction;
acting ladle heavy, heaping, terrified.
 
Leave things better than you found them
Received our debtors stand; surround them.

I wonder if to soothe what ail,
under apprehension prevail.
Therein lies each us, our grail -
our demons sinking in each nail.
tsl
Atypnoc Mar 2015
tsl
finally i found
how much ground
turned quickly to sand
falling asleep in atyland
and i woke up
we broke the cup
pours out my skull
what was half full
Atypnoc Oct 2015
only one thing is certain to come to fruition
Which is claiming that you have it disproves your intuition
Atypnoc Sep 2015
I remember warm waves of content
Washing over with feeling, now I belong.
Until tide drawing back, you wonder where I went
Sloshing  over revealing it all was wrong
Atypnoc Nov 2015
****
Please
I *******
Implore you
If you're happy hold your head up high
****
Please
I *******
Adore you
With these words that i have told you
Now i said i do ignore you and I'm cold
Because ****
Please
I implore you
If you're happy hold your head up high
7
Atypnoc Oct 2015
Going out to get used
May be better than getting no use at all
Atypnoc Feb 2016
We drove north into the night with  bellowing  winds gnashing at our backs.
When we came to an intersection he kept north.
Into the yawning
Atypnoc Jun 2015
Taking flight from the night
to be light feels right.
Atypnoc May 2015
Today I woke up and looked in the mirror
"Oh great. It's you again."
Atypnoc Feb 2016
I wasn't waiting here
You found me where I come to, strange
To behave as if by locating
Me at home, it warrants change
Expectations of accommodations
Making room and rearranging
Hey
Atypnoc Jan 2015
it's nice to know it's not for naught
there's value in what can't be bought
where my plans convene with thought
i invest different kind of plot

honeycomb are to the bees
as madness is to mysteries
and are polite priorities
nectar of insecurities?

the recounted sheep are bleating/(bleeding)
cry of wolf to deaf misleading
as i bray again repeating
every note so self-defeating

thrown about the limbs of trees
chaos with-in-discrepancies
that which we melt just to freeze
wring tangles such as these

my journey is while they sleep
shepherdess lost counted sheep
the edge, again, to fall or leap
for flight first failure grade so steep

My white whale wild in the seas
This ship no sail, nor north agrees
Ever-spurning taste of tease
I am ahabs intricacies

to illusion am i ******
eternally roaming the land
through burning thirst for empathy
-i'm plagued with insecurity

in an old biblical story
mortal glimpsed our father's glory
From that instant's blinding light
was driven mad took his own sight

if i could measure and define
truth and where it draws the line
which cliff faces only mine
encases truly, i am fine

chronic illness violently
supressing luminocity
onlookers hang silently
as ash consume ferocity

speed builds on tracks in my train
I know this is too fast, again
upon myself, 'you dare complain,
without reference to real pain?'
all avert their eyes, refrain
saying nothing is my bane
am i alone and insane?
this focus that i can't explain?
creating reason for my pain
purpose for and by diseased brain
Atypnoc Jul 2015
I can't count
the times I lost
track on the track
in the times
I can't count on you

I lose track of the times I can't count on you.
Atypnoc May 2015
Me too, I said, I'm well
biting back tears before they fell
or my voice dropped, no one hears
Im dead. Writing from hell.
Atypnoc Apr 2015
I found out there was fire lingering beneath this skin,
but it isn't of desire and I don't want to begin
accepting death because a pressure expects breath because of flesh.
I need a cure that isn't time for expiration of the fresh.

For incessant insecure impressions,
For obscure convalescent depression.
For when the most unsure become expected to procure
From those defaulted most demure, the idolatry sense of pure(ity)

[Pure] (it evil answer idol along and so sure)
purity villains were right all along and so sure
maybe for eternity despite killing wrong I'm insecure.
'twas thought was sure
Now wrought hot fur-(y)
(Fur)[y motion] from the prime upon itself,
[Emotion]
To where the very notion of good health,
fuels firey devotion to destroy myself.

I found out there was fire lingering beneath this skin,
but it isn't of desire and I don't want to begin
accepting death because a pressure expects breath because of flesh.
I need a cure that isn't time for expiration of the fresh.

I'm where the very notion of good health,
fuels firey devotion to destroy myself.
Written about last month's serotonin syndrome, spurned by doctors who don't care to listen, and offer only, "what we are doing is the best that can be done."
About the suffocation of depression at the idea of THIS being the BEST WE CAN DO.

This isn't living.

For the growing hatred for myself. Unknowing the line that defines what is within my control and that which is not (neurological), the issues I am having and resulting inability to leave the house become attributed to lack of character. And i hate myself for losing tome, I hate myself for sleeping,  I hate myself for staying up. I hate myself for avoiding and I hate myself for isolating.

Thank God for the appointment on the 12th in Seattle with a neurologist and narcolepsy specialist.
Atypnoc Jan 2015
Whatever it is,
at the most is a phase
What immovable present
when is posted a maze
What arrested this instant
as we blink by the days,
That which cannot afford
is that for which repays.
Atypnoc May 2015
I can feel that they are red,
visual confirmation is hardly motivation
to close sore eyes to dread.

fully bearing nightmares
I dare not stare
straight back.
Atypnoc Mar 2015
Heard quivering along the grape vine
grew bitter
Words shivering to escape my spine
*You quitter
Atypnoc May 2015
Tic talk lunatic,
walking creepy and scary.
Romantic click unlock with no
knocking, too sleepy to carry

The shovel.

This shovel.

The shovel is very
heavy like a rock,
makes it harder to bury
realistic-tic in time, outrunning the clock.
And to talk so simplistic is stunning; we left in shock.

Come write outright, you're right.

Come right out, write your right.

Come write outright your right.
For some succumb without rite read out to right from
being outright far from the right to play being dumb.
So it's mumble along, or remain under thumb.
We both know to be humble is wrong, when you're numb.

Come right out, write you're right.

Stumbling, shout insight;
incite doubt, crumbling.
In slight drought, the sun found dead
the unfounded site gets ahead.
I am astounded by the blood being shed,
when it sounded like the flood
all along was simply dread.

Everything is all inside your head.

But that was wrong, I limply said.
But you were strong. I see instead
that I belong back in my bed,
to track a song I wrote in red
before it's dead. And there I bled.
While I said,

Everything is all inside your head.
Atypnoc Feb 2015
I just want to know if I'm wasting my time
on some ideals that don't exist outside my head;
to trust it will grow after tasting and climb,
maybe heals moving forward instead.
Atypnoc Sep 2015
Everything is still the same, except just rearranged
except for dad, he's changed.

I fell down and nearly drowned
in whiskey and *******
I thought I could replace the pain
of not seeing your face again
but every ******* trace you left behind
was sacred space, inside confined
the welling tragedy, silence of the disgraced.
There isn't any telling in defense of the insane,
the mute intense.

and dad has changed.

The youngest nearly starved herself, by Grace she won't accept
but self-punishment and furtherance into sickness of debt;
if i were brighter, were i slighter,
had i done better, he'd have stayed

she blames herself, then just a child,
for causing all the grief you made.

and dad is changed.

a nephew or a niece conceived within loss of control
and then was lost and killed another piece of my exhausted soul
and I was married, with a step-son, after turning things around
but now that's buried ancient history. not what I thought I'd found.
He told me the same things you used to tell me,
they just like you because they don't know you.
your facade is too corrupt to show through.
but I am near now, I know you're a fraud.
You're the antithesis of good and God.


You never met my dog,

and dad has changed.
6 years today.
Atypnoc May 2015
Is it worse, being it that
my plight has no doors?

The line of sight agreeing with-
stand failure to converse,
despite seeing the design I fight myself with my own curse:
to die of thirst while they ignore
the gasping they have heard before.

I might have given more.
I might have given more.
Atypnoc Feb 2015
Is the flower first to wilt alluring?
Is ugliness empowered thirst enduring?
And does the **** thrive in it's leeching ways?
Spreading, choking, seeping, seeking prey
first of (hopefully) several collaborative poems with the infamous Sam August

— The End —