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 Apr 2016
Finley in Despair
Starving soul, hungry for communication
Parched heart, thirsty for a connection
Saturate me with your love
Fill me with your happiness
Remind me that I'm not alone
Tell me the glass was never half empty
As I know you want me full
I see you as I see you, not as you want me to
Wrapped in skin so velvet soft
Kissed with a dark red bow placed on top
Of your dark wavy hair
Perfect in contrast to
Your porcelain complexion

I see you every day
In the corners of my eyes
In the forefront of my mind
In my wildest dreams and
My darkest nights
Strange scenarios where I die
Only to be resurrected by you
Because losing me was a pain
So profound and world shattering
The tears you cried became the elixir of life

Be my friend
Be my lover
I can be whatever you need
Or whatever you want me to be
Provided that, me being that
Is always just me being me
That feeling of a desire to connect with someone.
Wanting them to want you or need you too.
 Apr 2016
J Foster
Damaged good are always on sale
In every store, whether resale or retail
No one wants something that’s broken down
Except for when they see that certain person walking around town.
She is shattered and mangled, but not on the surface
A beautiful sight, her eyes lit like a furnace.
She sells herself, but not for ***
What’s given away is more complex.
The idea of being wanted is too far gone,
Like her dignity which left her for so long.
So she lives her life always seeming distraught,
But really it’s only because of her thoughts.
They consume her mind and swallow her whole,
And every day it takes its toll.
She is worn and broken, and it’s clear to see
What once was so beautiful, wild, and free
Is now in the past, she can’t help but reminisce
The days that were once so grand and full of bliss.
She gave up when she gazed in the mirror,
Seeing what couldn’t be any clearer.
She’s still the same person that she once was,
Except now she’s in the prison which does
Consume her mind, her heart, and intent
For her sins she feels she must repent.
Her past is one that no one would yearn,
And to this day the thought still burns.
If not for that single mistake
Then to this day his heart wouldn’t have a break.
She sold herself, but nothing is new
For it has happened to all of us a time or two.
We sell ourselves short in all that we do,
But what we must remember is that there are very few
People in this world that remain pure and true.
All the rest are damaged at best,
And in the end it’s what separates them from the rest.
I discount myself, but I will never be sold
On any ideas that I have ever been told.
When I get put down, what people don’t realize is that I have already found
The worst critic on this planet, the one sitting down
Writing this poem and filling your thoughts,
Making you feel like that damaged box.
Perspective Boxes Damaged Goods Complex ***
 Apr 2016
Li
I've grown
accustomed
to saying sorry
even if it's not my fault
to saying thank you
when given pain
to accepting defeat
before the game
to walk away
because I was never
needed to stay.

I've grown
accustomed
to the opposites
all my life
I've lived like this

and I grew up
knowing I will
always be wrong

maybe
they needed someone
to blame
maybe
they needed someone
to carry all the weight

and no matter how hard I fight
I'll always be on the losing side.
 Apr 2016
George Anthony
my ex wants me back.
i don't want her.
there she is, once again,
waiting, whispering
working her way into my cracks
winding me up and worsening my wounds,
whittling me into weaker wood

she makes me feel like i can't live without her
and the irony isn't lost on me.
she cradles me at stupid, sleepless hours
and serenades me with sweet, sweet symphonies
of everlasting silence,
songs of sempiternal slumber

i know my insomnia gets the better of me but
i don't want to sleep that badly
or maybe i do sometimes
but i think my mother would want me to wake up
maybe my friends, too
and no, she would never let me
she'd want to keep me, you see

my ex likes me in her bed,
it's her favourite place to have me
some call that vanilla but they don't know the things she does to me
when her lips brush my wrists
and that one time they teased my neck
******* it, she drives me crazy
has me ******* the sheets and sobbing into the pillows
my screams so loud, i choke
and lose my voice

sometimes my veins start pulsing with need
and she makes it so tempting,
slender fingers slipping over my skin,
sliding over my spine
"do it", she says
i want to submit to her, show her how much of a hold she has on me- no
i don't, i don't, i can't, i won't

my ex wants me back
but i don't want her.
i let her have her way with me
under the covers,
my sweet, sadistic lover
and then i turn my back on her
and sleep until the sun comes up to remind me
lightness still remains even if the darkness lasts longer.
 Apr 2016
Jamie Lee
She peers out the glass,
at the bright blue sky,
into the sun's warmth...
She is alive, and breathing.

Thoughts flutter, and
images flicker behind
her vacant stare.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Slowly, she begins to ascend.

Her head tilted upwards,
her arms slack at her sides,
as the palm of her hands extend,
welcoming the unknown.

She becomes the center of view,
raised above the plains;
she spins around and around.

Like the wind, softly blowing ashes
from the hot coals of a fire;
her flesh tears away in pieces.

Piece by piece, she is exposed.

As she disintegrates;
her blood drawn by gravity,
spills out like rain drops.

High pitch screams,
fill the ears of those,
close and far.

Screams above mortal pain.
Unlike any torture, the
human body can endure.

Screams that raise every hair;
that stop the heart from beating,
for a second too long.

Screams that cannot be,
labelled or identified.

The world will bare witness;
while in their confusion,
they are still, with feeling.

The faces beneath,
stare above in disbelief;
absolute horror.

The sky ... now empty.
Traces left behind,
in blood.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Abruptly, she surfaces
behind her glazed eyes.

Still peering out the window,
she thinks;* "My life is good."

I have a home; a family.
I have food to eat,
and love in my life.

*Yet, thoughts flutter,
and images still flicker.
Copyright © 2016 Jamie Johnson
 Apr 2016
Naomi Chevalier
When I was 18 I fractured my pinky
riding my Huffy bike from my dorm to my vet tech class
I sat there in class for the next two hours
in horrified silence
not wanting to leave
I couldn't miss class
My hand turned from a beige to a lovely shade of indigo
like I had dipped the right side of my right hand in a vat of ink

That pain was nothing

When I was 20 I unceremoniously jumped from a mustang named Spirit
Fracturing my leg, the only thing keeping it attached was the muscle, tendons, and skin
But even that had been broken by a white bone
I cried and cried

That pain was nothing

See for a fractured finger or leg
You receive attention, and help
doctors crowd around you and inject you with morphin
and prescribe hydrocodine
to numb the pain
so that you can be put together again and heal
eventually forgetting why you cried in the first place

But what about a broken heart?
No one comes
and you are the only who feels that it would have been better had you been shot, because then you would know why you feel this way
there would be evidence of your pain
and a reminder that you used to be whole
not just a shade of who you once were
people wouldn't tell you to get over it
that you just need to think about something else

This pain is everything
 Apr 2016
Anthony Perry
An anxiety attack holds the body pressed against a table, unable to even struggle as the ropes pull and fold the layers of your mind like a peeling lable

Cloth begins to cover the exposed skin, over a layer of sweat that starts soaking in, panicked and encased in claustrophobia with weaning breaths that sound out a hallowed hymn

Skin pulled tight along the muscles, layers ripping across the joints like papyrus separating blood vessels, body pressed so tight that straight knees crack with the buckles

Unable to evade the stout flame hooking into the small of your back flaring up to the ceiling charring the body black, its a panic attack that has you trapped

Mummified and cremated without a hope of escape while motivation lays in ashes around the structure left behind in the agony of a triggered perception

All without the grace of an execution outside of this institution, locked away from happy thoughts and depression, the trauma stops only when it waits to feed on the negative pollution.
 Apr 2016
Evelyn Silver
How is it, that I'm so perplexed?
You utterly confuse me
Your words, your actions, your motives...
They leave me dumbfounded.

It's always a game of guess and check
Except, I'm never right
How is that?

Do your words have a double meaning I fail to catch?
Perhaps there is no double meaning,
I'm pondering apparitions.

I'm slowly going mad,
Trying to figure out your game,
A hamster on a wheel,
Spinning and spinning in circles, dizzied.

You are my greatest challenge,
My 1,000,000 piece puzzle,
My epiphany forever out of reach,
My unsolvable riddle,
My terrible sphinx,
You will never reveal the solution, will you?
 Apr 2016
FA12AMstorm
Sometimes I have to remind myself
I'm not better than you.
I'm just better than who you say I am.
 Apr 2016
Viseract
Hey bro how's it going?
I feel a little ****** to be honest
Oh hey, don't feel bad
You've felt way worse before
Yeah I know man,
But I can't help it
Every time I see her
I just want to hold her


Ah, so it's a girl problem
Yeah I get them a lot
I know, I am you
I just want to be with her,
And give her the world


Hey man don't feel bad
You just gotta be patient
And before you say anything further
I know you ain't good at it,
But you at least gotta try


Good point bro,
Thanks, both of you

No problem
**Any time
yet another conversation in my head. gonna make it a thing
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