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i feel so sick..

i also feel like
im going completely insane,
thinking things that probably
aren't real.

i feel left out from my friends
like they all hate me or something?

i feel under pressure at school,
like work just keeps stacking up
and it stresses me
more and more.

i can't sleep at night anymore.
so i sleep in and get nothing done --
the work piles up,
and i haven't seen my friends
in five days..

i don't know what to do with myself.

i cry over nothing
over the littlest things,
any miniature mistake
that i make
creates this big dent
in my world.

i feel so insane,
so sick,
so tired,
like everyone is watching
but also not watching.
date wrote: 23/9
can i just disappear from everywhere online and lock myself in my room? is that possible at all?
How can one breathe without you?  
The stars dim, the world falls still.  
A dreamless void where love once burned, Each step heavier than the last.  

Nadoush, I call, though silence stays.  
God, mend the paths we cannot see.  
A love unbroken, though time denies.  
I love you, always endlessly.
zdebb 6d
i have traveled a long way
to be waiting in a cheap motel

passing time reading the words
of dead russian poets

waiting for you to arrive.

four am is especially bleak,
and no restless sleep is
as purely restless,

no sound
more angry forlorn and
temporary than cars on the
highway besides.

i would never know by your voice
filtered by space and electronics

what is moving through you.
i must look in to you.

so i wait now for you to knock,

alone in the company of
pasternak's tears

until i see you and understand you
are well.
Jesus 6d
Ante la lluvia que cala,
el viento que golpea,
el frío sin abrigo,
o los días sin color.

Si lo que viene se va,
sin pena ni gloria,
y con fuego o sin chispa,
la vida sigue sin parar.

¡Pura vida y a por más!
Suma y sigue sin parar,
no hay sombra que espante,
si tu alma quiere más.

Como la gaviota,
que al viento se entrega,
buscando el horizonte,
alza el vuelo sin más.

Si lo que has sido y hecho
contigo partirá;
mejor seguro en ti,
que no en los demás.

Sigue firme sin parar,
el tiempo pasa rápido;
no dejes para mañana
lo que hoy en ti no será.

¡Pura vida y a por más!
Suma y sigue sin parar,
no hay sombra que espante,
si tu alma quiere más.

Como aquel suspiro
de esa estrella fugaz,
que llega y pronto se va,
no te dejes derrotar.

La vida es puro arte:
firme y adelante;
lo malo deja atrás,
y avanza sin parar.

¡Pura vida y a por más!
Suma y sigue sin parar,
no hay sombra que espante,
si tu alma quiere más.

Si el tiempo es escaso,
el hoy es ya lo eterno,
y el mañana es un milagro;
agradece y a por más.

Como las agujas del reloj,
que por cada tic-tac
guardan sus secretos,
imposibles de descifrar.

¡Pura vida y a por más!
Suma y sigue sin parar,
no hay sombra que espante,
si tu alma quiere más.

Si el humo de la niebla
esconde sus misterios
que están por llegar,
más que aquí de allá.

Como la muerte ha de llegar,
y ese fin no has de evitar;
exprime hoy el tiempo,
que, como es, también se irá.

¡Pura vida y a por más!
Suma y sigue sin parar,
no hay sombra que espante,
si tu alma quiere más…

¡No hay sombra que espante,
si tu alma quiere más!
This   is  comedy   ovah  here      don't  get all  pissy. ...  
If 50 is the new 30  ?
'  , then what the hell does that make 18? …What, negative three? I can’t touch that. That's a felony   AND  a math problem.  turns  out  Judge doesn’t accept algebra as a defense.

50 is the new 30, huh? Okay, okay, then 18 must be.... the new embryo. ?  
Which explains why every time I have to place an order at a fast food joint or something, anytime I gotta interact with these little *******…
dealing with a ******’ teenager these days, am I right?
How do these little ******* even get jobs?
Who would hire them?
They're just like, “Yeah, let's sink the whole ******* business right now slow  quit   who's with  me  ? .” Comes with the built-in torpedo.  Slow  quit ? I got  socks older  than  you .

I feel like I’m babysitting a fetus with cyborg Wi-Fi.

I go to get the   last few hairs that I got left cut and
, you know, this one
She  doesn't even want to put down the phone.
I'm like, “Are you serious? You're gonna try to cut my hair?”
The stylist’s got one hand on the clippers and the other glued to TikTok. I
’m like, “Sweetheart, unless you’re livestreaming my bald spot, can we focus pls?”

You know, I'm not really crazy about how my ears look up there either, but I would like to keep ‘em both.  jeez

Oh my goodness. Can I see the manager?
She   fires back , “Well, I thought Karens were all females.”

18? That’s the new *******  rhats what that is ?
. You're not an adult at 18,  !
you’re some kind of… a larva with three points on your driver’s license.

50 is the new 30? Yeah, my ***.
And my Pinto is the new Learjet.

50 is the new 30, huh? You know, I don't remember needing so many ***** pills at 30.
But, you know, then again, I AM 50. I don't remember too much.
Cept  for  I aint  really lookin  forward  to bangin a 50  yr old  even if  she does  try and  act thirty....  just  sayin ...

Then what the hell does that make 80?

   You  do realize  ...  That means my great-aunt Edna must be the newest pin-up girl.  ah  jeez

Somebody put a lock on the nurseries—***** about to get weird.

  Seriously  though  HOW   is it   supposed to be like the new 30 anyway?
What are we talking here mentally? Is that supposed to be a compliment?
The new roller derby champion?

great-aunt Edna, posing with a feather boa  a long cigarette  and a  triple olive martini,
suddenly the height of “saggy” ****  now ?

Oh God, please tell me that's not a thing.
Please tell me we're NOT  doing that.     Am  I right ?


tip  your  waitress ,  try  the  fish  ....  I'll  be  here  all  week .
Its  part  of  a longer  routine  but  you get the  idea
Late summer’s limpid sunlight blessings;
Light so pale it almost falls
As shadow in the yard.
A time of change.
I lift a fallen leaf.
Tiny, curling inward in my palm.
Stroke its crackled empty veins
As if that could restore its place
In summer's roaring plethora of green.
Oh I am too much in, and of, my words.
Did I need the ‘green’ in that last line?
Or ‘plethora’?
And I never touched a single leaf.
It was, and is, a lie.
No
The words with which I write your life and mine
Can define us for a time.
And for a time they may be right.
But unruly days are rolling down
Bewildering
Blustery truths.
—----------------------------------------------
Accumulated tiny shocks of dissolution.
The falling tetris cloud of
Shapes of life
That fit nothing on the screen.
Where exhausted pixels
Show the fading afterimage of the years.
No words within my homestead waiting  
That can rhyme, welcome or even say ‘I know’.
No answers to the liberation of bewilderment



—---------------------------------
“Good evening. I am Time.”
An attentive partner,
Dancing with you, Strong.  
Almost overwhelming.
He will forever search you out.
Never let you go.
Until your eyes must close.
Companion to and of the end.
And then
The quiet chapel with the
Yellow unlit candles. Cold.
And a window where the glass
is gone.

Not so
not so
not so.
Said the gentle mocking laughter of the wind.
Outside.
You see me, and I am always there
And so
And so
Are you.
Yes.
But then the slow realisation that it is the emptiness
That is the truth
And then the knowing smile.
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