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 Nov 2016 taia
Reece AJ Chambers
my life is a million things or a million and one   look at this situation   words dribbling from my fingers like raindrops     I want to feast
on every piece
   you are willing to display   to roll out and reveal
     no matter how fragile
I feel my bones groan for you   but I all I have   are these syllables stationary   on a screen
the idea of something more   an improbability
we can share our language   and breakfast cereals   and our feet will rest
on the table   with the murmur of the TV     in the background   and oh my god   I am sprinting through a blizzard   as fast as I can   but I was never a good runner     my toes are almost numb   but I want want want   to experience it all
   ripples of reality   it has bypassed me
carved a pear-shaped
lump     out of me     I am ******* in string
I am oblivious   to kisses and loving   and intimacy
   the rush   the blinding delirium     I see everybody glisten   it seems so   but every person is ravaged        
   by a manic voice   flaws written high   and glowing
I try to explain   but my handwriting
indecipherable
   a blister-free   relationship   glorious silence   delicious shiver
of something like love   between us   over our shells     I am out of it   in a make-believe land
drag me to real life   and I’ll burn   like a slab of meat     before I trip
     into a lake of salty worries
Written: November 2016.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time. One evening, I wrote half a page of random notes. The following day, I merged them together into what you see above, albeit with some edits. Not entirely happy with how this turned out. All feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.
 Nov 2016 taia
gwen
nope, i'm sorry
 Nov 2016 taia
gwen
but

i don't want your advice about hanging in there
i don't want to hear about how i should wait for the rest of my life to begin
i don't want to hear about what should give me light
i don't want to hear about the struggles of valuable lessons or the triumph of hope

i don't want empty promises or vacant encouragements
i don't want your moral high horse or veiled condescension

i want to hear your honest opinions
i want to hear your soul cry out in protest
about how you're drowning your sorrows
about how your brain feels like a worn out sponge
and your heart an old wrung rag

i want to hear how you're close to giving up
i want to hear how you're burning out
i want to hear how coffee makes you shake
i want to hear how you need pills to sleep
i want to hear how the thoughts of your future scare you more than your past ever did

i want to hear all your fears.

i want to know that in all of mine,
**i'm not alone.
one of the more organic, honest, spur-of-the-moment ones. worthy of the title "spilled ink".
 Nov 2016 taia
Yz Doo
It just is
 Nov 2016 taia
Yz Doo
Say it ain't so
Underneath and balled up under the cold steel table.
Eyes closed heart wide open
Wisemimd is vanished
My eyes dim
Say it ain't so
All my underlying and overseeing foundations vanished
Say it ain't so
I can and do
The warm glow of my true self never leaves
Centered and here I crawl out from underneath the steel table
Grinning and exhausted
Make the right choices for yourself
 Nov 2016 taia
Just Rachel
Holds it tightly
Loves it really
Loud guitar......,it is quit silly
Swiftly paces,while humming  
Song
With that **** guitar how can he go wrong?
A puzzle unsolved  
Why the desire
Insanity It leads me
If volume go higher
It's like a addiction,
I kid you not
To remain by his side
Curse is the day I bought
Oh silly red guitar
Why so attached is he
Never will I know
It shall stay a mystery....
So this is a silly poem about my son
and his The Wiggles guitar....he constantly
playing it,basically he's stimming ( a way
to manage certain emotions )
For the most part it goes in one ear
out the other,so it really doesnt
bother me...others ?..well yes...that in
turn makes it harder ....and a problem.
 Nov 2016 taia
Mike Porter
Untitled
 Nov 2016 taia
Anthony Perry
How many angels have I shed to make way for the demons in my head?

How many bodies have I eaten and abused in my bed as I look for the lost love in my sheets that only shows when its red.

A poem of love and death, a tale of lust and hate, this is a crime of passion led astray.

Skin like a doves breath, a voice of trust and filled with hope and fate, one day the beauty and art of you will help me find my way.

Even if it means our death is to be the outcome of a beautifully painful day.
Inspired by a poem from "Just Rachel" about sleep paralysis
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