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 Sep 2017
atomic blue
Mud
In my dreams
I see other sides
To the world we live
Filtered in the lids of my eyes

In those dreams
We're caked in mud hardened by time
As we crawl the land
Like we're strong and fine
But we're brittle like castles of sand

I dream that we saw each other
Our true state and not the lies
And we broke that outer crust
Scooped it out of our eyes
Shedding layers of dried mud
chipping it from our thighs
cracking like dried blood
dropping the rotting guise

I dream that we stood exposed
just skin and bones
Tender and bruised
raw in smooth softness
the water our thirsts embraced

But as my dream continued
the rising sun reddens
as it burns we're separated
the outer crud resurfaces
Into that world we're refabricated
re-skinned by the mud that hardens
in my dream we're ill fated

Sam@081017
 Sep 2017
Akira Chinen
Remember my love that whenever you drift
between the unknown hours of sleep
and over mountains of pillows
and blankets of ocean and mist
I am never more
than a dreams reach away
 Sep 2017
poems in the clouds
I wish I could tell you about
all the late night drives
I had to take this summer,
and how I would think about
you every second.
I swear to god there were
times I would pass your exit
on the highway
and I would almost turn around
and drive straight to you.
But I haven't seen you since April,
and considering it's now September,
I'm sure you don't think of
me much.
I would listen to your old
voicemails, and sometimes
I would almost swerve into
lanes because my eyes
would be blurry from the tears.
I always thought to myself,
if the last thing I heard
was you whispering
"I love you"
through the phone
on an open road at
midnight, I don't think
I would quite care.
I know this ones a bit dramatic, but what the hell, right?
 Sep 2017
what a waste
Your words, if I may, crush
They consume, incite lust
And perhaps divides trust

Your words, if I may, crush
They loom, invite disgust
And most certainly conquer us

I bet they smell good crushed.
I'll take three lines, please.
 Sep 2017
Nathan
You're a dream
That crawled into my bed
And never came true

You're a laugh
          About to burst into tears

What you are
          Is vague
                And beautiful
 Aug 2017
JDK
If you'd tell me what I told you when I was bolder and blacked-out,
I swear I wouldn't repeat it to anybody but my older self.

This is less a cry for help than a shout.

If my second-hand echo somehow travelled from your ears back to my mouth then maybe I could get to the square-root of all my compounded doubts.

It's less of an impossible situation than it is just a simple equation in which the only formula I'm missing is how to solve for ex.
"Jesus Christ, what happened?"
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