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 Apr 2020
Nylee
I always felt that i was rare
my name was written
for a beautiful fate ahead
i believed and I cared
but maybe I was just a spare
it is evident as of late
or it was like this forever
my eyeglasses weren't clear
so now that i see
as I compare me and her
and them, it feels so obvious
but there was nothing
I could have done different,
so I was blissfully unaware
I don't have another pair
and there is nothing to repair
it is a line to follow ahead
where life is not fair.
 Apr 2020
Thomas W Case
Deliciously loving you,
yet, I'm the
one that got ate up
and spit out.
So I lie on
an empty beach
like a broken sea shell,
while the lonely rain
pounds the sand.
 Apr 2020
Thomas W Case
Her
The dark dance calls softly,
like Night Shade or Oleander.
Just a little taste...
Just one more slow waltz...
I can smell her
wet orchid while I sleep.
She moves languidly through
my dreams, possesses me at dawn
with lambent steps.
The love is violent, like a bullfight.
It's sweet and treacherous, ferocious.
Fatal for one of us;
and she's been gored.
The darkness calls, there is an attraction to chaos and failed love.
 Apr 2020
julianna
Monsters don’t exist
Still, we are very afraid
Because we made them
Monsters. A concept so often used to represent anything dislikable to society, which we are afraid of. Yet literal monsters don’t exist.
 Apr 2020
Poetic T
I'm more of a ******...

            than a nymphomaniac

on **** hub...

you ****... but not as good as a

                             tongue piercing..

And then I smile as I bleed..

               no pleasure with out pain...
 Apr 2020
Traveler
The city is calm in the corona sea
Tt
 Apr 2020
Sam
If you try to breathe, normal,
in through the nose
out through the mouth,
you know your breath will stutter,
come out in a gulping, unsteady way

Because your heart is too fast
(as always)
Your mind is too unclear,
stuck in a haze of fog.

So you will breathe
through only your nose,
keep the panic curled and tight
until you are all alone,
and it can lash out fast and furious,
and harm no one but you.
 Mar 2020
Bardo
Like a muscular drummer drumming,
    the Big wind
It gathers itself, twirls its sticks
Then swooping suddenly lambasts its
     kit
Thrashes the coast, sways the trees
    and rocks the boats
Lathers into it;
Its cymbals crashing are the smash of
    the sea against the rocks
The trees running amok over the
    rising mountains.

                                    II

With a draught of this air drawn in to
    fill my sails
To have the big windmills of my blood
    rotate
And ******* out then across the bay
Up over the headland, out over the
    wide open sea
A Colossus emerging and none to
    stand in my way.
The sea comes alive on stormy days and gets into your soul
 Mar 2020
Ameliorate
Curdled cream and three separate drafts of a memory I can't quite pen properly.
Disappointment inbound, pouring the first cup of freshly brewed coffee down the drain.
Had I checked the date this wouldn't have been a waste of $4; but a solemn reminder of analogies leaping from my brain.
Cycle of sleeping all day to lie awake during the nighttime, overthinking. Curtains of feeling bad about inability to wake normally, darkness of the evening encompassed I finally pull myself out of the bed.
Despite this current pattern, last winter undoubtedly worse with feelings of self destruction and loathing.
For currently I do not cry every waking hour, just wish I was different with no apparent response to change.
Cats continue to be stricken with yet another upper respiratory response to declined immune system of an exotic breed.
Lost debit card, jobless flounder.
No appetite or desire to binge eat for the first day of my existence.
Headlight reflections crawl across the ceiling and I'm suddenly five years old again, afraid of almost everything.
Summer evenings when the whipper-well called out haunting symphony of their nighttime songs.
I never quite believed they were birds, moreover monsters and I never heard those calls other than childhood.
My father outside, and I in the grass.
Childhood wonder as he climbed a ladder to retrieve me a piece of the moon.
Wide eyed awe at this miraculous feat, my father could reach the moon.
Unnoticed by young eyes, the moons sphere just out of reach by trillions of lightyears.
A rock plucked off the driveway.
He must've been proud of his farce, my bewilderment and excitement beaming.
I love you.
Twenty five years later, a memory I haven't connected to in decades.
Perhaps the next time I look to the man in the moon, I'll see your face etched softly on the surface.
That radiating glow reminding me things will be alright.
It's been an odd winter, my heart is cooled more than our weather as of late.
Somewhere through the forests of Sandilands Provincial forest a deer crunches across the snow.
Silence, except for its breath, a softness.
Trees encompass, nurture and protect.
You are home.
I wrote this a month after the suicide of my father.
© JUPITERSPROUT_ 2020
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