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 805° 
McKenna Christine
& really, do you even mean what you say? why do we feel like a trap, you were never supposed to be a prison stay. in all actuality you freed me. i mean, at least that’s what i used to think. now i guess i just feel used. finding myself wanting to go back to the forgotten days. how'd i ever let it get this far? hell, where do i begin? your smile. your lips. a promise, never to be fulfilled. an ache, a need, a dismissed agenda. words cannot express the pain that forms when you say you don’t remember. is there something that i missed? i can’t help myself from going back. i voluntarily drown in our memories. you fill my lungs, take my breath, you can keep everything that’s left.
 633° 
Marc Morais
Why start with
you mean business
when you say
you mean no harm—

When mean is
the reason why
you harm
and the start of
your mean business.
 585° 
Isaac
As I soak in the cinders of silence
that I myself have procured,
I blame the rest of the world for
the burn marks that never really go away.

I'm submerged to my nostrils, barely
breathing, yet somehow I still manage
to fill the tub with unending self-pity.

My tears do the rest of the work,
and they are the fuel for my embers,
and as I wallow in isolation,
I pretend I am dead.
 469° 
Frances Raeburn
I never asked
for tomorrow
I think
That was you
 411° 
Melanie Munoz
Open bars and drunkards
Cold feet and dark streets
Pink puke and white slabs
My love is far from me.

-Melanie Munoz
 303° 
just call me caits
I remember the rage in your eyes
when I told you
about that late night
with tears in my eyes

you said it was my fault
and I thought it was mine

but I think
“you made that decision”
doesn’t feel the same
when she tried pulling me away
and asked me if I was okay

I remember the rage in your eyes
directed at me
but it wasn’t for me to find
 300° 
Liam
tremors
the familiar anxious feeling
when I'm all alone
alone with my thoughts
the shadows creep in
gifting me tremors
tremors that capture my hands and legs
tremors that make my heart flutter and pound
tremors that terrify me
reminding me of that night
the night I tried to end it all
the memory gives me tremors
and terror
 263° 
Peter Gerstenmaier
Now at the end of all things
As we're breathing sulfur and
Lead's pouring over our heads
I'm glad you're the one I'm
Sharing the trenches with
This is the first thing I'm able to write in almost a month. A little piece about my mental health struggles and how grateful I am to the ones that have my back right now.
 261° 
Christian
If I were a tree,
my roots would tunnel towards you.
My branches,
stretching for just one touch.

If I were a flower,
my petals would blossom at the sound of your laughter.
My thorns,
removed by the tenderness of your voice.

If I were a river,
my stream would carve for you a way through mountains.
My water,
purified by your resilient spirit.
playing with matches lit
listening to the fight
sitting on the stairs
knowing it all
but not helping
you always said
a child not embraced by the village
will burn it down to feel its warmth
but now your house is flaming
the blaze flickers between your teeth
the child plays in the shadows of the fire
what will you do now?
 238° 
Vianne Lior
Mornings licked amber—
wet, bright—
papaya pulp split in the grass,
rain still steaming off rooftops.

they came—
sway-backed, jewel-eyed—
weaving cobalt ribbons through the cricket fields,
feathers slick as oil spills.

I waited—
barefoot, rice pinched in small fingers—
not offering—inviting.

they took—
beaks sharp,
eyes glinting like they carried whole summers behind them—
but they never left.

even when the rains came—
hard and urgent—
they stayed, hips swaying under silver sheets,
tails dragging through warm mud.

I thought they danced for me—
as if the whole monsoon belonged only to the girl watching— silent, secret-spined—
hair curling at the nape—
too small to touch,
too quiet to call them by name—
but they saw me.

I know they did.

they crowned me in silence—
Princess of Puddles,
Keeper of Small Hungers.

somewhere between the serpent hunts,
the rain-slick pirouettes—
I learned how beauty moves—
how it takes without asking,
how it lives without needing to be seen.

they were never mine—
but I belonged to them—
to the fevered mornings,
to the blue-green shimmer folded beneath heavy air,
to the secret language only wild things speak—

something wordless—
something that never leaves you.
Every morning, on my way to school, I passed by those peacocks—swaying through the fields, feathers damp with night rain—the first beautiful thing that ever made me feel chosen. Feeding them in my backyard became the quiet ritual of my childhood, and still remains one of my fondest memories.
 221° 
Amethyste
Boy with long hair
I love looking at you.
I take long, long sights
Every night we meet up.
 207° 
Jonathan Moya
night drapes
day spreads
stars emit light
moons conceal dark
around the north star-fire
away from the south moon-water
stars journey
moons remain
in their wake
at their rest
stories extend
stories retract
 184° 
MetaVerse
There once was a woman from Spain
Who loved to make love in the rain.
     She also had fun
     Making love in the sun,
And always in the public domain.
 184° 
Cesare Pavese
Girerò per le strade finché non sarò stanca morta
saprò vivere sola e fissare negli occhi
ogni volto che passa e restare sempre la stessa.
Questo fresco che sale a cercarmi le vene
è un risveglio che mai nel mattino ** provato
così vero: soltanto, mi sento più forte
che il mio corpo, e un tremore più feddo accompagna il mattino.
Son lontani i mattini che avevo vent'anni.
E domani, ventuno: domani uscirò per le strade,
ne ricordo ogni sasso e le strisce di cielo.
Da domani la gente riprende a vedermi
e sarò ritta in piedi e potrò soffermarmi
e specchiarmi in vetrine. I mattini di un tempo,
ero giovane e non lo sapevo, e
nemmeno sapevo
di essere io che passavo-una donna, pdrona
di se stessa. La magra bambina che fui
si è svegliata da un pianto non fosse mai stato.
E desidero solo colori. I colori non piangono,
sono come un risveglio: domani i colori
torneranno. Ciascuna uscirà per la strada,
ogni corpo un colore-perfino i bambini.
Questo corpo vestito di rosso leggero
dopo tanto pallore riavrà la sua vita.
Sentirò intorno a me scivolare gli sguardi e saprò d'esser io: gettando un'occhiata,
mi vedrò tra la gente. Ogni nuovo mattino,
uscirò per le strade cercando i colori.
 178° 
LL
if I can only
be happy for you and not
happy with you — f
02/17/2025
 177° 
Kai
Maybe I’m not strong enough,
To carry man’s weight. My back wasn’t made
For empty promises, lack of understanding.

You feel no attraction to me. Yet,
You yearn for me. You tell your father about
Everything I do. You break chains
For me.

Where are Stonewall’s bricks?
Thrown in windows, wooden
Doors.
Doors that mean nothing,
Because my heart is elsewhere.

Maybe God is not strong enough,
To carry man’s weight.
You use his name in vain,
To carry out your warfare on
A peaceful race.
I am new to this website so feel free to follow me or message me or anything!!
 173° 
Nobody
Came back
Survived the ride
Plunged into dark
Saw the light

I'm back!!!
I will now be posting
Regularly
I missed you all
What doesn't **** me makes me stronger *******
 156° 
AWURAA
You living to see another day will only draw you closer to the day you bless another person's life.
 148° 
IrieSide
Nature loves courage,
is what the
psychedelic
sage says

find this power,
some inner guidance
that refuses
to submit
and relinquish
its soul

stand, and stand higher,
rise again,
bring up your brethren
& sistren

follow the flow,
and remain in strength
fear not,
the spiritually hideous
monsters
 148° 
Jun Lit
Webs catch the small flies
But big bees just pass through them.
Talk about justice . . .
 146° 
Clay Micallef
I have seen grown
men throwing stones
into still rivers
rivers that are
tired of running
they watch small birds
feast on smaller
living things
they breath out a
steady stream of
blue sadness
they sit in cars
reading Kerouac
looking up at
long naked legs
they have outlived
their fathers
idea of youth
they have played
the puzzle of
insolvable love
they are lost in
quiet rooms
they ask her
politely to leave
they wait for the
dust to settle …
Clay.M
 131° 
Marc Morais
Fences fail quietly—
in a slow tilt,
colors give way,
surrendering—
a silent retreat
from brown to brittle.

I press a finger,
catch the rough
edge of metal,
its dust scratching my skin—
years thin us,
like coins drowned
in riverbeds.

It goes this way,
I think—
a long fade,
grit slipping
into dark water,
turning to mud,
just enough to remember
we once held on.

And I wonder if we, too,
were made to loosen,
to dissolve—
no shards or splinters,
just a long sigh—
as time corrodes
at our hearts,
turning all we were to rust.
 122° 
Chuck Kean
Master Of My Brain

     I know what it’s like to just
Want to be alright
I know what it’s like to just
Want to be free from the fear of night

I know what it’s like to just
Not want to feel perfect in the pain
And I know what it’s like to just
Not want to go insane

I know what it’s like to just
Feel so alone
I know what it’s like to just
Shiver to the bone

I know what it’s like to just
Want somewhere to hide
And I know what it’s like to just
Come to peace with suicide

I know what it’s like to just
Constantly walk beneath the rain
I know what it’s like to just
Have Satan as the Master Of My Brain

Written By:Charles Kean
03/03/2025
I’ve got Jesus now and I’m okay
But I know what it’s like.
God Bless!!!
 107° 
David P Carroll
Irelands call with
Shamrock's green and lucky charms
And joy fills the whole day
On Saint Patrick's Day.
Saint Patrick's Day
 101° 
Joe
A prism lies under the Earth
As strata waste away
The daylight comes ever closer to finding the prism
And its rich hues may one day find my retinas.

I just hope that my mind can process the colors.
 98° 
Carson Dees
Sunshine and rainbows
Never hurt anyone

Sunshine and rainbows
Never seem sad

Bur sunshine and rainbows
Never show anything real

So sunshine and rainbows
Is what I'll never write.
You don't have to find happiness if you're feeling sad.
 97° 
Jeff Bresee
I see it time and time again
that beauty’s made by what is spent.
 
A beauty that demands a price
with outer glow and inner ice.
 
And observation seems to tell
it’s only as deep as the well,
 
for come the day the well runs dry…
such beauty simply waves goodbye.
Night
and I toss and I turn
wake up cross
and I burn
with angst?

jeez
what am I,
fifteen years old?

someone once told me
something
but I forget what it was

the beauty of becoming ancient
is in the memories you cannot remember.
 87° 
ARTSAFA
If you look at the stars, you'll see the lights
If you look closer, you'll see they're only leftover lights
Left from my heart as I cast it into the dark
Left from my soul as I forsake it to the storms of wild winter

I look at the supernova that just imploded,
as I try to cover its lights, it keeps imploding,
and sinks into itself.

Rust on the sun is spreading,
and absorbing the light.
Mold in the heart is hollowing,
and overshadows love.
 87° 
Xio
Sometimes you think that you want to disappear, but all you really want is to be found.
 84° 
tiyaja cianni
i am always in the trees
and the sky that you see
or the flavors that touch your mouth

there's nothing that can be done about it
 84° 
Kai
Eyes on me
Ones that I can clearly see
It gets creepy once I notice multiple of them
Look, I know I'm pretty but that's a bit too far

I see your eyes trained on me
As if you were a nasty beast
Ready to pounce on your prey
It makes it weird since all of them are eyes of a adult
Making me more uncomfortable

Following me to my car
Following me to my home
Following me afar
Following me til I roam

Unsettling
They all seem to have lust in their eyes
Looking at me up and down
They ain't doing it with a frown

Leave me alone
Just a young 12 year old minding my business
If you have a certain bone
Don't talk to me
Simple
"hey kid! Want a spinal cord?"
 80° 
Y
And finally, it's my time to go
Maybe one day I'll realise
That someone out there loves me too
To my best friends
I will miss you.
(4 March 2025)
 77° 
Sofia
you knew I was lost,
you took advantage of that.

i had to accept your touch
i had to understand your desire
and your hand on my body
left a mark

i broke into pieces,
with your touch that I can't wash away
and with your face,
which I cannot forget


now am silenced
for the rest of my days
 76° 
Andi Leigh
I've been preoccupied.

Reserved

Like acorns resting
Under piles of snow.

Dormant

Until my time,
Earned—

Waiting for the earth
To melt away

To make room.
 74° 
K Balachandran
Every single
mistake of mine,
even the recurring ones,
patiently you edit within
and read as if it's fine,
nothing has ever gone wrong.

see!
what your love
incomparable
has to me done,
my poor, darling!

in my writing, they see
the grammar fully muddled,
so many words I spell wrong.

I see this, only when
others, bitterly, loudly complain
gentle soul, your'e forgiving,
but the world isn't,vengeful it seems,
don't you see the predators, prowling?

Why don't you consider the truth,
I am imperfect, want to be corrected
why not help me change,
tell me where I go wrong, urge
I'll certainly adore you more for that.
Darling, don't turn a blind eye to my faults, out of love
 73° 
Thinking of You
I try very hard to be good.
At everything.

But often I just want to be happy.
Happiness often feels like the string of a balloon slipping from my fingers.
So close to being captured as I watch it flutter away into the sky.
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