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 846° 
Austin Morrison
I wake to a sky painted gray,
Another day carved from the endless stone,
Dragging my shadow through time’s heavy hands,
While the question festers: where do I belong?
The mirror offers no map,
Only the hollow stare of someone aging too fast,
Late twenties—a milestone to nowhere,
Just a rung in the ladder I never asked to climb.
The world outside is a roaring machine,
Grinding hope into sparks that vanish in the dark.
Corruption drips from the seams of the streets,
And I can’t decide if I’m angry,
Or just too tired to care.
I keep moving, though,
Lost in the rhythm of meaningless tasks.
My purpose feels like a phantom,
Always one step ahead,
Always laughing as I stumble behind.
Happiness? It’s a language I don’t speak.
It’s a dream I don’t dare to dream,
Not when the weight of my flaws
Makes me wonder if anyone could
Love me for who I am,
And not the mask I wear to survive is starting to crack.
The chaos grows louder each year,
Like a wildfire feasting on the brittle bones of society.
And yet, I think—I hope—I can find a quiet place,
A haven amidst the ruin,
Where the world’s collapse doesn’t matter.
I don’t need salvation,
Just a corner of warmth,
A voice that says, Stay awhile, I'm with you.
A home, not built of bricks,
But of arms that hold me when the ash falls.
And so I wander,
Through this maze of broken dreams and empty days,
Waiting for a break in the storm,
For a hand to guide me,
For the fire to rage and the world to end,
While I finally find the peace
Of wondering home.
 674° 
Jellyfish
I keep trying to learn more
I want to understand myself better
I'm alone at the end of the day
No one else will put in the same effort as me.
 539° 
PhantomSavage
I
Dont
Understand
Life
I
Dont
Understand
Myself
I
Don't
Understand
Anything
I
Don'­t
Understand
Please
Help
Me
Understand
How
To
Survive
The
Calm
Af­ter
The
Storm
After
So
Long
Living
In
The
Hurricane
 505° 
Ayisha R
There’s a fine line
between wanting
and needing.

I don’t need you.

I just want you.

Could that be even worse?

✖️
_________

© Ayisha Rahman, 2025
 381° 
Dom
The cool air of a spring breeze
Kisses the verdant canopies
And fireflies pop neon light
Upon the sylvan halls,
Daring to catch magic by early twilight.

Chasing majesty watching for the fae
As shooting stars sparkle like fairy dust
And the moon’s dim light shines upon a fawn,
There is a calming silence
In a zephyr wisp along the whispering woods,
There is violence in the way leaves dance
Just before an early morning rain
As night is choked back by the coming dawn.

I’ll take umbrage here,
Under the lively oak—
In this forest villa where
Arboreal ancients,
Spirit me with hope.
Always feel most at home in the forest
 366° 
Ciara
She is a butterfly...
hiding under sunspots.
He’s a gecko,
lurking in that velvet corner where the light forgets to go.

She is chaos—
he’s the eye of her storm.

They were born from deep sea vents,
rose up to the skies like they meant to crack open clouds,
pull humans into a frenzy
no weather pattern could predict.

She calls it life.
He? He just stares into death,
like it’s a familiar hallway with flickering lights.

The question of origin?
It’s always that stupid finger—
pointing,
blaming,
laughing at the moment they both thought:
"Wait… was any of it even real?"

Hey, ****.
It’s all tiny signals,
she read.

"It’s all eternity,"
he preached,
like a god with a broken clock.

They walked through each other’s ghost stories,
talked all night in a language made of
fake memories,
false starts,
and déjà vus shaped like abandoned houses.

They locked eyes—
those traitorous, trembling eyes—
and whispered vows
to nights that haven’t happened yet.
To days that only those **** aliens have seen.

Yeah. Those aliens.
The ones living on the edge
of the universe’s bubble,
eating popcorn,
watching this bubble bursting program
on cosmic cable.

And when the light consumed the darkness,
when the tiny capsules cracked open like old seeds—
they were left raw.
Naked.
Shivering in the gift-wrapped curse
called "Time."

She ran away.
He walked away.

Moments…
split.
Time…
parted.

While million-dollar math problems
sit unsolved on cluttered desks,
watched over by smoke-drenched visionaries
who know something’s wrong
but can’t solve heartbreak
with equations.

This is the program.
It’s always been the program.
We’re just signals,
wrapped in skin,
playing roles,
in a show
with no rehearsal
and no pause button.

So if you’re watching,
dear alien—
just know…

We improvised the whole **** thing.
 343° 
Nobody
.
why do i always have to fall in love with the people who will never love me
im sorry i can't control it. i just want it to end
 324° 
Ash
no
they said it
and its over
i am done
and i am leaving
to a place i can be freely
i am dancing upon
the waves of pains
a single girl forever
unloved
unheard
unknown
unspoken
i recently just asked someone if it was over or if we could start over?
he said we are done,its over.so here i am single again
 318° 
Kai
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
How about respect my boundaries
Respect your place
Mind your business
Stop cyber stalking me, Ryan
Before I figure out where you are and smack you in the face
NO???? IM NOT GOING TO RESPECT MY ELDERS IF THEY DONT RESPECT ME AND THATS FINAL.
 261° 
The Invisible Poet
my sadness is evanescent
soon I will forget how it made me feel
I used to feel empty everyday
now I feel joy and contentment
my sadness is evanescent
drifting away
out of my memory
the feeling of sadness
will be a foreign emotion
evanescent: soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence, quickly fading or disappearing
 185° 
minx
keep it sweet
but i just really wanna
grind on your thigh
while your hand
softly strokes my side

i wanna be yours
but we have different interpretations
you wanna be my daddy
but i want you
to be my daddy

i can't help it
you can't help it
you're so excited
kissing my neck
snaking your hands tight around my waist

daddy, daddy, daddy
the endearment is so twisted in my mind
you won't ever be my daddy
but you'll always be my daddy
i'm so, so innocent, but am i really ?
whoops...
 184° 
EngrMakata
Like a bench beneath
the autumn leaves,
I stay where you left me
gathering time, not dust.
 172° 
JJL
End
And when I've given 'till I have nothing left to give.
Fought for you till my strength has run out.
I realise that all along.
My life was mine to live.
another short one.
J.
 172° 
Schuyler
They stop me in funerals, in reunions and
say to me, “You did it. You broke the cycle”
My fingers twitch, a deep pit in my belly
A knife twists, the memory of her last words
With fentanyl-stained lips twisted into a smile
she kisses me one last time, a sharing of poison
As her breath leaves, a body with no brain
And I say, “But did she have to die?”
i miss her
 171° 
Stardust
They flow like rivers
from a fresh stream,
When nurtured with love,
gently and with care.
The poem talks about how curly hair can be compared to ocean waves instead of the usual (and often clichéd) comparison to noodles.
It suggests a shift in perspective—seeing curls as beautiful and flowing like waves, rather than just springy or chaotic like noodles.
 169° 
Lyle
being lonely is different
then being alone

you can be lonely while surrounded by people
but to be alone is to be truly by yourself

and when you are truly alone
the worst kind of lonely sets in
 167° 
Sadia
She wanted all the colors in the palette box.
But they stayed just out of reach.
Only black was meant for her
so she wore it like armor,
and taught herself to live with it.
 161° 
joaquin
i do not love halfway
i love you like a warm blanket
on a cold night
 158° 
Kimberley Leiser
I keep pushing my self through
the constant misery of pain.

I realise in the last year that my life will  never be the same ever again.

The pain never seems to get much better it will never really stop hurting.

I keep trying.
I keep walking a little more
each day.

Moving a few little more steps forward
going in that right direction

I know in the end this will lead to much bigger and better  rewards in the end if I never give up and keep on doing this.

No matter the pain, no matter the fear and no matter the tears
I've got keep pushing through
that darknes,
the inner turmoil 
that black and white tunnel we call life and push through to the other side to a much brighter and more happier place
and state of mind.
 155° 
Ali Hassan
Upon the checkered battlefield she stands,
A sovereign forged by mighty hands.
She moves through fire, wind, and air,
Where king would tremble, she would dare.

The king? He takes but one slow pace,
Yet all the world must guard his place.
She sweeps the board to shield his name,
While he remains a throne, a frame.

She leaps through lines, across the night,
Her strength is feared, her aim is right.
But when she falls oh, silent doom!
A pawn may rise to fill her room.

No grand crown mourned, no songs are sung,
Her courage known but seldom rung.
A lesser piece takes her fading light,
As if her power held no right.

She bled for him, and when she’s gone,
Another stands as if nothing’s wrong.
But if the king should fall in fight,
No pawn can rise to claim his right.

Why must the Queen be thrown aside,
While weaker soul enjoy the ride?
Why can the game not truth confess
That all revolves around her finesse?

So let the rules be drawn anew:
The Queen shall rise as sovereign true.
If she must fall, the crown shall end
No pawn pretend, no false ascend.

The king, if brave, must prove his might,
Or lose the board to equal right.
No longer will her death be cheap,
No longer will her silence keep.

This is the Queen’s game sharp and wise,
No longer masked in king’s disguise.
Let Queen be Queen in full command,
No shadow bound to his demand.

Let every move her story tell:
She ruled the board. She ruled it well.
And now, at last, the game replays
With justice ruled by Queen’s own ways.
 120° 
alex
What else can I say,
that’ll make you stay
That'll keep you from leaving again.
Now I put down my pen,
cause it feels like I’ve said everything there is to say,

Yet I can still feel you slipping away.
I guess if you truly love someone you’ll let them go
 115° 
Raven
All this rage inside of me
Slowly
NO!
Not slowly anymore

All this rage inside of me
Corroding my insides
Burning away everything in it's way
Trying to escape

All this rage inside of me
Begging to be let out
Until it scares everyone around

All this rage inside of me
Begging to escape
Until it burns everything down
Until its all burnt to the ground

Leaving nothing behind
But my body
Curled up on the floor
Surrounded by ash
And destruction
While it corrodes
And eats away the rest of me
Until all that lays
Curled up
Are my bones
May/14/2025
 115° 
ManInBlack
You and the moon
are very much alike,
Like the moon,
I have always thought
of you at midnights
Like the moon,
I have always wondered
what’s beneath your surface
Like the moon,
I have always been
captivated by your beauty
Like the moon,
a being of solace
in all of your phases
Like the moon,
in a deep-deep night
you’re the blooming light..

-ManInBlack
 113° 
T
I wrote some of my best poems
about you.
Now, everytime you
cross my mind,
I want to throw my pen,
across the room.

You must have decided,
it was time to get rid of me,
once and for all.
Dangled the hope of your
touch as the bait.
I fell for it so fast,
it was almost criminal.
 110° 
Neville Johnson
The Count of Monte Cristo ain’t got nothing on me
I been in prison longer than he, albeit romantically
He got to take revenge, but not me
I’m sentenced for life, I can’t leave
Anyway, the person on whom I wish to take revenge
Is none other than me
I’m the warden
There is no reprieve
I tried to escape
But was captured by me
 108° 
Ryan
Closing. soon-already. breath.
Deep and heavy, soon now-already.
Feeling heavy, droop slow and steady.

Not-already stark open image
Merged spasms, rectangular light.
No-already, tight seeping so-already

Feeling heavy, stretc-hed slow and steady.

Then-already, gaze weak, sight thin:
Feel-already. Be-already. In-already.
Arm ajar-already hand enwrapped-already.

Feeling slow and steady. Beating,
blinking, slow. and. steady.  In-already.
Quick. and. steady.
 104° 
Mike Hauser
I often times
Try and hide
The worst in me
My Selfish side
Still shows itself
When you least expect
Doesn't get its way
Rears its ugly head

Over time
It's friend Pride
Comes on strong
Won't be denied
To prove its point
In the fact it's right
No if, ands, or buts
Or reasons why

While they both feed
On Envy
With a side
Of Jealousy
To say why them
Spurs their needs
The worst in me
Would not be complete
 103° 
Dakota
fine red wine into lines
stinging burning everything turning
the pain I'm suffering its got me wondering
why I left red stains on my sleeve making me believe
I'm not worth it
I don't deserve this
screaming crying
cant stop lying
slowly dying
how it feels some times
 99° 
Me and You
As I realize
The moon's not up yet
But takes its time wandering
I, too
Feel calmer

🌖
 98° 
Onoma
Reality goes right

through itself.

It really doesn't

know what to tell

you.

Those closest to

it tell you: 'I don't

know what to tell

yah.'

It's exactly what

they tell themselves

going through it.

In what reality

would one presume?

Well.
 98° 
Lawrence Hall
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                  Bring Me the Head of Peter Rabbit

My little dog has gotten into the habit
Of dining at dusk on delicious rabbit

Last night she blitzed past me as I opened the door
And left me a gift on the bedroom floor

I blinked when I saw at the foot of the bed
With its eyes still open – a poor rabbit’s head

Luna-Dog looked up and pawed at my knee
As if to ask, “Aren’t you proud of me?”

I reminded her gently (no need to fume)
That we take our meals the dining room
 95° 
Cheyenne Chenoa
Old ragged woman
‘Fraid and thin
Whispers quietly
A prayer to heaven
As she lies in her sin

Protect my mother
Keep my father strong
May my daughter be obedient
Knowing right from wrong

Her hands clasp gently
Wood worn beneath her knees
A scarper from desires within
A surrender unto peace

Lord, far have I wandered
Mountains I could not climb
The depths of the sea
Fought to swallow me

In her pain a soft voice came
Gently and gleefully
Whispered; I am yours
And with you I shall be
 90° 
Malekai
Life must be a joke,
Feelings must be a joke,
Having a good heart must be a joke,
My life must be a joke because everyone just laughs, stairs, and judges me.

I guess my life must be a great Joke.
 90° 
Isaac C
Meaning in my scars,
etched letters on my arm -

A man with a Bowie knife

Letters form the words:
"Dredge soil from his soul;
a lake without mud's alive."

Seemingly unharmed.

Best feeling ever had -

was spared from the shiny blade.

Now I'll stick around.
Scared? No, I think I'm brave;
let destiny have its way.
I know how dark this poem is, but being reminded of mortality can be a good thing. Being reminded can make you thankful for what you have, knowing it's temporary. I was assaulted, once, but I healed from those ****** stab wounds. I'm thankful. I needed to be shown how real death is. Great men have known this.

After a victory, Roman generals were reminded of death and kept humble by the tradition of having a slave whisper to them, "momento mori," which means, "remember you must die," or other reminders of mortality. The tradition was meant to humble triumphant generals. Many great warriors have fought, knowing that they are already dead in some way. They fight better, believing that.

Life is a constant battle.
 79° 
Srishti
ASK
Ask a hungry man what is food.
Ask a poor what is money.
Ask a jobless what is job.
Ask an orphan what is family.
all their answer will be "LIFE".
all of must thank to god for whatever we got and what we will get.
 78° 
Ángel González
Ayer fue miércoles toda la mañana.
Por la tarde cambió:
se puso casi lunes,
la tristeza invadió los corazones
y hubo un claro
movimiento de pánico hacia los
tranvías
que llevan los bañistas hasta el río.

A eso de las siete cruzó el cielo
una lenta avioneta, y ni los niños
la miraron.
                  Se desató
el frío,
alguien salió a la calle con sombrero,
ayer, y todo el día
fue igual,
ya veis,
qué divertido.
ayer y siempre ayer y así hasta ahora,
continuamente andando por las calles
gente desconocida,
o bien dentro de casa merendando
pan y café con leche, ¡qué
alegría!

La noche vino pronto y se encendieron
amarillos y cálidos faroles,
y nadie pudo
impedir que al final amaneciese
el día de hoy,
tan parecido
pero
¡tan diferente en luces y en aroma!

Por eso mismo,
porque es como os digo,
dejadme que os hable
de ayer, una vez más
de ayer: el día
incomparable que ya nadie nunca
volverá a ver jamás sobre la tierra.
 75° 
McKenna
It’s getting loud—
Can barely hear
I’ve been drowning
In all my tears
Words convincing
They cut like a knife
I’m barely wincing
Another: girl vs. life
It’s my head that’s the problem
It knows what it’s done
I’ve hit rock bottom
And it’s no longer fun
I tried to drown it out
But it’s tattooed in my brain
And it’s making me doubt
And now I’m in pain—
It’s getting loud in here
And I want it to stop
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