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Jun 2019 · 96
wanderlust
to be determined Jun 2019
I am trapped
In this life
In this world
By these people
By these clothes
Stereotypes place barriers on who i am
Who i can become
I am afraid
I cannot leave
I am Icarus
Fly too close and
. . .
There i go
Falling into the ocean
All of my ideals
Slipping through my fingers
Where can i go
That is unfamiliar
That scares me
That excites me
That angers me
That brings to light any emotion
Because there is nothing in my heart
I am empty
There is nothing there
An anthill teeming with ghosts of what once was
Perhaps what never was
Was I abandoned
By myself
By others
By my heart
Where has it all gone
The desire
My desire
The only lust for life that possesses me
Is wanderlust
The lust for stardust to seep into my skin
To distract me from every original
To take me to a new world
To make me forget
Then remember to forget
Where has my desire gone
The desire to live
To prosper in this life
To be content
Perhaps nowhere
Perhaps it has hidden inside of me
Fearful of coming out
Rearing its ugly head
And marking its territory in this decrepit place
The hole I call my soul
Oh how it devours
Dec 2018 · 155
apocalypse
to be determined Dec 2018
my world is bleak
each breath is empty
my limbs are numb

they don't feel your touch
your caress upon my arm
each gentle pat on the hand

life has turned vapid
leached of all usefulness
dead and alone in the corner

my limbs are numb
yet here you are
poking and prodding

for a sliver of hope
that I may feel again
unhindered by life's casual boredom

thanks are many to give
but dry up on my tongue
crack each taste bud

not for pleasure or whimsy
but necessity
for if I were to speak soul truths

the earth would shatter beneath our feet
Nov 2018 · 286
wip
to be determined Nov 2018
wip
hark! I am greeted by angels
each with devil horns and
spikes in their backs
blackmailing my feet to lead me
where?
away from from the shining seas
twinkling eyes and fluttered eyelashes
fare thee well in these trying times
they screech at me from
their balconies
all I can do is cry
deep in my hands
cracking my nose with my knuckles
suggestions?
Nov 2018 · 154
Cartoon Characters
to be determined Nov 2018
Are black clouds swirling above my head?
Are birds and butterflies?
Can you tell when I'm angry?
Does smoke spew from my ears?
Wouldn't that be easier?
If we were animations
Alive and fictitious
Right there
Before your eyes
I reflate after every defeat
Arrive safe and clean and unbroken
Back in my bed the next morning
Nothing happened
Wouldn't that be easier?
write everyday or brilliant thoughts will fly from your head.
it'll be an airport, everything passing through never stopping for a quiet conversation about love
Oct 2018 · 232
Alone
to be determined Oct 2018
can they see it
written in my Eyes
Scrawled across my Forehead
In Bold Flashing Letters
ALONE ALONE
ALONE ALONE
Is my loneliness
So blatant on my
Sullen face that
Any passerby who
Happens to glance
At my sunken
Cheeks and bloodshot
Eyes they will see
My empty soul &
Brain brimming with raging
Words screaming to
Get Out
My closed mouth
Shrieking HELP
At anyone who will
Listen and a pleading
Heart that’s never loved
Nor felt its warmth
Hoping with each of its jagged
Fragments that someone
Anyone
Will notice the
Storm raging behind coffee eyes that see
Parents & infant giggle
While devouring mint ice cream
During a record breaking heat wave
But no one does
So here I stand sit walk
Conjuring a practiced smile with
Every hello that does nothing to
Drown out the screaming
In my head
i wrote this awhile ago
digest with a grain of salt
Aug 2018 · 357
title
to be determined Aug 2018
how does one write
M-E-L-A-N-C-H-O-L-Y
without stopping to wash their hands?
mel·an·chol·y
noun

a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause.
Jun 2018 · 236
They
to be determined Jun 2018
He trembles
as he gazes upon
the upturned nostrils of They
that whispers
“Not good enough. Doesn’t fit the mold.”
They is the pestering voice that
jackhammers your skull and
shoves your limbs into broken figures.
“be left”
one screams
“RIGHT”
roars the other.
Left is contested into silence.
So there he sits with
trembling hands,
raging insides,
and bared teeth.
“Perfection”
crows the They we all fear
but shall soon become
views on society
Jun 2018 · 4.6k
Mother Moon
to be determined Jun 2018
The sun is shining and
moonbeams glisten through the air.
Moon, not sun.
While the sun shone
and incinerated the sloshing intestines of
vengeful beasts;
the gentle and forgiving moon
projected from their eyes and
caught the ****** maw of a starving deer.
Suitcases of leather stacked behind us
filled with spruce, pine, elm, oak, cherry.
Ready for induction t
o our paperless society
which consumes the forests of
Hippolyta and Antiope mercilessly.
Burning every leaf
then forgetting to feel
because nothing mattered.
Everything never mattered.
Facts are lie, opinion is truth.
“No one is nothing”
they shriek to the heavens
striving to be limitless
and scorning morality. Embrace death
and all its glory.
Life, while full of happiness
and gorgeous splendor,
refuses to acknowledge the
magnitude of the word. The thing.
Falling and reading and lines
and circles and explosions
and whimpers and screams. Agony suffered
silently, alone; never understood
because how could it?
What could totally encompass
the raging fire that devours the veins
and burns from the inside out
kept in place by the impenetrable
flesh that glints in the forgiving moonlight.
A hostile exterior that
smiles, waves, laughs on cue to
disguise the raging storm
fighting its way through from inside.
The shell which shrinks from the moonbeam
and into the harsh sunlight
that filters beneath the floating clouds.
May 2018 · 247
4th of July
to be determined May 2018
Smoke.
Everywhere.
No escape.
Lungs choked by the burning gas floating in the air.
Shrieks of delight in the background
make me wonder what joy there was.
The dead grass crunched under my feet
and engulfed in flame after a tiny, glowing ember
floated from the smoke filled sky and to the ground.
I scream for help
but it is mistaken for joy.
For a smile plastered on an alabaster face and hands
raised to bathe in the shower of sparks
that rain down upon the earth.
Eyes burn with smoke, blurring every image
already distorted by the smog that hangs over the land.
Smiling faces contort to demon
and white winged angels claw from the ground
chanting hymns of forgiveness and eternal life.
But, as if taken by surprise,
the criminal smoke flees the scene of its crime leaving me;
standing there salty rain pouring from
honeysuckle eyes roaming the ankle high grass for signed of life.
Sure enough, carpenter ants skittered under
the pale moonlight rushing back to their mother queen.
Demented angels
melted back into the ground,
not even a mound left from where they clawed through.
Demons smiles reverted to tooth filled grins.
'Kathy,' came a far off voice. 'That was epic!'
Self-made rain stained my cheeks
but no longer poured from my eyes.
Elated strangers whom I felt I knew
overwhelmed my frozen figure, shouting about
my amazing performance I didn't know I'd taken part in.
I muttered under my breath,
'God bless the U.S.A'
wrote this a year ago
couldn't wait until July
May 2018 · 268
test day
to be determined May 2018
this is an endless hellscape
housed by demons mocking my torture
blood rains from my fingertips
clotting in the gaping mouths
of the spectators' bellow
my bones snap and mend at crooked angles
set by my captor
injecting formaldehyde to freeze my body
poisoned by exposure
May 2018 · 3.6k
smoke
to be determined May 2018
cigarette smoke clogs her arteries
twelve packs a week
bleeding teeth and nails dawdle in her broken hallucinations
the cloud of harsh chemicals mask the iron in dust
it coats her tongue and hands and feet
the minerals latch onto the crevasses of her flesh
refusing to relinquish their rightful territory
she knows all of this
all it took was ages in a bathtub
overcome with mildew
for their stubborn tendencies to become evident
she's since abandoned attempting to scrub the brine away
this poem has been published in The Gifted Penman's Poetry Collection: Volume One
Apr 2018 · 203
writer's block
to be determined Apr 2018
I want to write a poem
I want words to flow from my brain
to fill a room
and churn around my ankles
I want to describe the magnificent monstrosity
of the abominable them
I want to write page after page of profound insight
relevant to a day and age contrary to my own
I want to transport lazy streams and terrible winds
to the bedroom of a pensive child
I want to be mistaken for a genius
analysed by college students
and cursed by highschool
I want to be required reading
that 7 secretly love
I want
I want an unattainable future
made possible by something I didn't feel
or see
or be
I want a writing desk used only for flashes of imagination
and sudden inspiration
I want to sing in the mind of another
without having to open my mouth
I want
frustrating writers block
Apr 2018 · 241
words
to be determined Apr 2018
i take words in my hands
examine their nooks and crannies
lay them on a page
shuffle their assembly
manipulate their meanings to suit my needs
roll them around my head
taste them on my tongue
the bittersweet of a perfect adjective
dancing before a noun
the metallic tang of a callous word
shoved into a sentence against its will
***** of it's innocence
purged of all meaning
lying helpless on structured lines
tramped by uniform TO BEs
i treat every word like a lover
savoring each fleeting minute
i have with such excellence
marvelling at the countless wonders
performed for my amusement
sometimes i'll wake up
and a love i've never known
drifts in the wind forgotten
while i am utterly oblivious to the slaughter of language
allow this to trickle down your spine as you read. dance in slow motion, don't rush the lines.
Apr 2018 · 110
Minute to Midnight
to be determined Apr 2018
Rushing through the throng of people
Hurried down a choked corridor
Flashing lights begging to distract me
Stray my path
The seconds are ticking down
My brain is racing to find the ideal trail
Formulating the glowing lines all pointing to the same location
Heart racing breath
Ragged muscles burning
Every minute disappeared
Milliseconds racing towards zero
The minute to midnight crushes my lungs
Forces the air from my lips
And splits my brain in two
The timer goes off
I’m miles away from my destination
Heart crashes against a brick wall
Breath is cut off
Limbs dismembered
I lay lifeless on the cobblestone
Lights flashing on my face
Mud puddles splashed into my face by the throbbing stream of individuals
Earth coats my tongue
All I taste is copper iron zinc
Dark-cinnamon swirls eclipse my pupils
The flashing lights are gone
12:01 forever burned into my retinas
it feels wrong to leave this blank with the subtle chaos surging above. it courses through the lines to come to a jarring halt with no explanation I'm never going to give. have fun

— The End —