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So many things that
Words can never say
                •
Too many words that
Just get in the way
                •
© 2025 Daniel I. Tucker
Quick do you hear it?
Do you hear that ticking sound?
Open up your chest and reach beyond the pound
Can you feel it?
Can you feel that ticking now?
You are running out of time, will you die now?

Tick, Tick, Tick.
Does that change anything now?
Are you still there?
Even after the sound?
Don’t let it stop, you can’t
But it wants to stop,
Will you let it?
 Apr 1 darkifytun
ivan
sometimes i just need a hug

not the harsh words
maybe i just dont want to listen
to the truth
maybe im just too overwhelmed

sensitive.

i would never ask
for something like this
stabbing teeth into my wrists

like a dog, i follow you,
i admire you
but
sometimes all i need
is a hug
exhausted
torn apart.
Remember they're monsters

Not just in theory, but really

It's no longer about the evidence

(If it ever was...)

But a call to collusion

They want you silent

Unless you recite after them

So they can write papers

On pipe dreams
Everything's wrong
But I know it's not
The future is happening
How can I make it stop?
I'm scared to death
I'm scared to live
I hate myself
I take a breath
Look in the mirror
I bite my tongue
I feel the fear
Plunge so deep
Even before it comes
Anxiety keeps me
From climbing the steep
Sometimes I write poetry
most times it writes me.

Showing me things 
I need to see.

Things I need to acknowledge
to be a better man.

Not to change the world, 
but to change what I can.

Most often times
it's a change in me,
A reflection of a man 
I don't want to see.

Sometimes I write poetry,
most times it writes me.

And the more that I write
the more I'll like what I see.

And maybe someday
if I write well enough,

The man in the mirror
will smile back at me.
this kids,
is how you do it

in the mid of the dark hours,
when two am is your new oldest friend
when sleep, your oldest old one,
left town on the midnight train,
taking your peace of mind

though she is far away
lost in dream-thoughts caught,
but only twelve inches close,
granting you an unasked permission,
you ok to stroke her hair,
undisturbing her, yet comforting yourself,
every voice in your temple'd altar praying,
one glorious chorus godly chant:

Oh Lord, what would I do without her?

and you stroke her hair and are saved.


2:51am

May 2014
Give me your heart
And I’ll give you mine
Give me your heart
And I can see
Give me your heart
And it will be me
I walk upon heaven and earth
I walk through hell with ease
all is suffering, all is love
I embrace it all with serenity,
when my heart is at peace
Words and feelings rising out of morning metta meditation
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