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Clem N Tine May 2016
My anxiety is not me.

My anxiety is shaking hands.
My anxiety is imaginative.
My anxiety is sleepless nights.
My anxiety is never satisfied.

My anxiety sits on my shoulder.

My anxiety keeps me from making important phone calls.
My anxiety forces me to want to isolate myself.
My anxiety makes me cry over nothing.
My anxiety makes me cry over everything.
My anxiety tells me a C may as well be an F.
But my anxiety forces me to avoid important tasks I have to deal with. Everything scares me.

What am I so scared of?

My anxiety wakes me up vomiting.
My anxiety forces me to pull away from the people I so badly want to fall into.
My anxiety keeps me from living.

My anxiety makes me at least two to twenty minutes late everywhere because I don’t believe I am ever prepared,
so I have to retrace my every other step,
constantly checking and re checking.
Constantly doubting.

My anxiety is a thin stream of fear trickling through my mind.
My anxiety is a menace, a monster, a fish with teeth,
black yarn, lawn chairs sinking in the sand.

My anxiety rules me.
Clem N Tine May 2016
Twenty distrusted fingers. Thieves.
They robbed her in the dead of day.
The putrid smell of **** and pain. Blood and puke.
Loss and loss.
A child’s scream.,
The sound of no one hearing.
Ten fingers scratching at windows fogged.
Tension, clenching, attention
All on her.
Snow in October.
  Apr 2016 Clem N Tine
Cecil Miller
Yes, I know that
The sun is beating down,
Pounding your back with heat
As you're working.
You're working hard
Selling memories not to be forgotten.
You think you're grown now.
You are a man
It seems to you...
And it seems to you
Only fitting
That you do what you please.
Well, you think you're free now
Like you've never been free before.
You're just another boy on the bullivard.
But can you take it,
Ooh, the harshness of this lifestyle?
As you wait for them to come along
Will you come undone?
Your time,
Your time is running,
Running out.
What are you feeling now?
I split no hairs
About the little things.
I say only what is relevant.
I see
You need a warning.
You ride like the wind
Through the pages of your life.
They change like the faces in the night.
I know your lonely.
How could you not be?
I wrote this a few years ago
  Apr 2016 Clem N Tine
Arcassin B
By Arcassin Burnham

While I continue to search for the purpose
I should have possessed along time ago
While I was still kicking and screaming
Fading away and took hold of my soul,
Now I have no idea where I'll end up when
I die,
Probably somewhere in hell fire at the end
Of a chain and a whip begging God to give
Me what I deserve,
But as a mistake I deserve nothing,
Why do I have to be any different than he or
Why can't I just be stronger than both parties,
Dark , depressing, and lonely like premature
Born into a world that teaches you it's wicked ways,
I pray,
For all that have to live in the so-called "ghetto",
I pray,
These bad memories will disappear in time,
I pray that every single bad thing I've experienced
And wasn't good at will advance and make me into
The human being I need to be,
But the Lord doesn't hear me,
At least the Lord I'm praying to will agree,
Most of us sit with our mouths shut,
And bathe in this indecency,
But no one is listening.
  Apr 2016 Clem N Tine
Poetry At Most
You'd learn how to love me and I'd learn how to let go of the things that didn't.
  Apr 2016 Clem N Tine
Sarah Michelle
A flower bending
in the wind doesn't actually
yield, though it seems so
Clem N Tine Feb 2016
I am eleven again
feeling like tomorrow
is a couple yesterday's ago
smothered in cayenne pepper
hot enough to take off taste buds
and tonight i am eating a meal
only worth burning
it tastes like my parents' anniversary
it tastes like a zinfandel
left on the counter too long
it's a bad story, see
there's no silverware 'cause my mom sold it
to keep the lights on
after my brother passed
when I was eleven
and somewhere in heaven
somebody in a suit
doing commentary
on this fiasco
is telling someone else
in a suit that
"you have to eat love with your hands"
so we sit, four plates on the table
for the two of us
my brother's long gone
dad's even further away & he's not the one who's buried
i carry both their names like anchors
that i cannot unmoor from
while she looks at the empty table
and says something about the news
she says something else
but she's not talking
we aren't proud of this, see
my dad likes to wax his car
he's proud of it
and my mom says
she sees a lot of him in my hands
says, I touch the things i find
like they didn't belong
to people sleeping in the ground
she says i touch photo albums
the same way-
you know,
I never used to believe
that history could repeat itself
not until i could
fast forward seventeen years
and still wake up to smoke alarms
how i would go into our kitchen
to find it empty
and the dinner smoldering & my mother in her bedroom
looking through family photos
like it's a just another summer day
and the sirens are just the birds
i don't ask, i never say a word
in this moment
i am an archeologist
afraid to dig up the past
cause history repeats itself-
you see
my brother is dead
and my father is gone
they have been for some years now
and my mother
sometimes forgets
and sets their place at the table
like they're still here,
and in the confusion
ends up ankle deep
in pictures of how it used to be ...
she let's dinner burn
and douses it in red pepper
hoping i won't know the difference
Jamais Vu
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