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Jul 2020 · 1.0k
pill of oblivion
lydia orr Jul 2020
chill of the winter night
drifting through the open sunroof
throbbing stars
a crisp breeze
licking our skin
invading our bodies with tingling goosebumps
slipping ourselves the pill of oblivion
drifting into a reality
that perhaps only existed in our minds
we did believe our imaginations
much more comfortably
than we would ever believe reality

so we sat there
slumped on the black leather seats
watching the notes spill from the speakers
and dissipate into the air
Jul 2020 · 92
The End
lydia orr Jul 2020
faded backboard
frayed net
kissed gently by only the breeze

a rusty bell
married to cobwebs

faint chalk marks
left by two ghosts
who never quite finished their game

wooden swing set stained green
cracked, splintering
weeds abusing the low swings

a dead christmas tree
begging to be set into flames

a little charred chair
chipped paint
remnants of a couple little girls
floating off
away

one thick, steel chair
set on the outside
watching time tick
and the world grow, fade, die
and grow again
Jul 2020 · 237
woman in white
lydia orr Jul 2020
the woman in white said to me
“have you not learned?”
she picked up my thoughts with her hands
and held them away from me
so that all that was left was a blank, white, light.

look up at her, holding my thoughts
never realized you are limbo itself
when you reside there

she said
“be here!”
and threw my thoughts back down on me
suddenly i was lying on my bed
one leg under covers
one leg out
cars zooming under my window
sun barely peeking through my blinds.
Jul 2020 · 130
searingly beautiful
lydia orr Jul 2020
i make my heart collapse.
seedlings planted in my chest
trees sprouting out of my *******.
i am the root of this massive Redwood.
i watch the leaves shake
till they touch hands with the sky,
say hello to the sun.

pull me upwards.
lurch me forward.
giant Redwood breaking through me
as i travel up its stump.
i love the blood the tree jerks from my veins.
drips down that rough bark
and settles past its roots
where it lays to rest in the hot center of the earth.

i love the skin ripped from my body
as i am revealed for all that i am.
lies suffocating in oxygen,
their deaths fertilizing the life that is this earth.

Breathe.
feel cold purity enter your lungs.
let the wind carry your limp body.
finger paint the sky as your canvas,
use the sun as your paints.

Rest,
deep in those moon craters.
befriend the stars.

Breathe.
let that rainbow of music notes pour from your mouth as you laugh.
let your smile radiate happiness for all that is.
let your mind fly with the kites
and your tongue taste the air the birds do.

It’s Okay
to fade into that dark night
that only God can see.
to feel that wonderful, eternal fall
in your stomach
as your roller coaster plummets
so sublimely beautiful from that place up high.
body slipping from the seat,
and letting go,
to be all that there is,
to experience all that exists,
to let the light gleam from those cracks
in your still heart.

to fall and rise with the tide
of that ocean
that carried you away
so delicately,
so gracefully,
so searingly beautiful.
Jul 2020 · 201
vulnerability
lydia orr Jul 2020
curly toes and fingernails twice as thick
with old banana peel dried and crusted
jarred underneath
skin that tastes like plastic
a distraught girl with flowers growing
out of her head
eyes bleeding onto the pavement
but the heart is still beating
am I supposed to make sense
or are you
I said it’s time to go
but the doctor told me I’m fine
so I went to another
maybe five
and they all said the same thing
make sure you’re walking the dog
and that the dog’s not walking you
well maybe I want the dog to drag me
raw across the pavement
just know my hearts still beating
Jul 2020 · 37
Memories
lydia orr Jul 2020
It’s crazy how something that no longer lives has the greatest power to ****.
The greatest power to slice into the skin of the heart and watch you bleed aimlessly over something that no longer exists, at least within this dimension.
Let me find and connect with that whom is still experiencing this movie in my head.
My birth taking place right now.
My first breath of air on this earth, happening again and again, somewhere, ad infinitum.  The most beautiful word—life fractals, I never have to worry about the possibility of an ending.
Is this the world I want to exist in?  There must be a reason why none of us can find this pocket of spacetime in which it does.  Who’s to say that time even exists at all?  Simply because my skin wears and my hair greys means that time moves forward and straight?
What about circles and triangles and rainbows?
#memories #time #perception
lydia orr Jul 2020
If we are all of one consciousness
Then one man’s suffering is my suffering
Another man’s joy is my joy
Fear for fear
Contentment for contentment
So tell me, what are we to feel?
Because i feel them all—
Every single one of them all at once
And it’s for that very reason that I am asking
How:
Tell me, how does one bare the weight of the whole universe
When they’re heart can only beat so fast
And their skin is so limited in its capacity for volume

Maybe that’s why there are so many of us
All the emotions, experiences of the world
Were much to thick, dense, deep for the one consciousness
That is us to carry on her own.

And maybe it is when we’re much too connected to this consciousness
When we feel so deeply over nothing we experience a living death.
And maybe we are much too disconnected
When our hearts fall numb to any feeling at all

Maybe the rain, the wind, the clouds
And lack thereof is our consciousness’s
Beautiful release and expression of her emotion,
And maybe she’s just like us
Where sometimes she can’t help but feel so so much,
Or nothing at all.

A light connects me to you to her to him to the person sitting on the other end of the bus, to that child that just inhaled earth’s air for the first time, to his mother who just labored him into the world, to the ******* the opposite side of the world lying in a field looking up to the same moon and stars as I.
#conscious #consciousness #one #unite #unity #depression #depressed #together #feelings
Jul 2020 · 141
Nine
lydia orr Jul 2020
I was suicidal when I was 9.
Open cute little journal
“I hate myself”
Pages 1, 2, 20.

It’s supposed to be hard to care about other people,
Not yourself.

11 when I felt nothing
12 when I asked pain for a visit.
Just one minute of feeling,
Please.

I connect too deeply with my blood.
That’s why we’re best friends.

Or, maybe, I don’t connect deeply enough with her.
With that warm fluid pulsating the individual dance
Of my
And only my
being.
Jul 2020 · 45
No Man’s Land
lydia orr Jul 2020
The sky
Will forever
And always,
Be my favorite place.
The sky is no man’s land.
So me and my thoughts,
We live up there.  
We thrive up there.

— The End —