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 Feb 2017 samantha neal
LS Martin
I drink because:
I would rather sleep walk through life
Then live with the choices that I've made
Waking early
too early
I can't sleep right

The mind racing
and pacing in me
too fast

Too fast to slow down
I can't slow down
can't stop this head on collision
We ought to find the one who makes it all worthwhile.

What value is there in celebrating one's successes alone, I wonder.

I often find myself full of dread and trepidation that something great will happen to me in the absence of that someone.

We ought to find the one without whom nothing will be worthwhile.
I am choking, on the things left unsaid;
I am drowning, in their dread.

Smothered by the weight of my own tongue;
Coating my larynx, begging to be wrung.

My breath, stifled by unwritten letters draining into my esophagus;
Strangled words, using my body as their sarcophagus.

That one day, when I'm stronger, I'll find the courage to excavate.
Until then, I'll slowly ,**asphyxiate.
The weight of you drags  me down.
I try to swim but you force me to drown.

You hold me under the surface of my depression by my throat.
Suffocating me by your once gentle hands I could fight you but I don't.

I let you chain me up and I let you drag me down.
Because even without the weight of you I would surely drown.
I sink into depression often but as you know misery loves company.
You found me;
Whilst I was to finding myself;
I trusted you with all my pieces;
And you took them as a trophy,
A prize for when you broke me;
In their place;
I was left with your false I love you’s;
As scars on my desolate heart.
 Jan 2016 samantha neal
Michael L
Calm I'm not on any day
Formed by forces beyond my control

You fear me without knowing me
I'm really just transparency

Plunge your hand into my belly
Feel how easy I give way

My life is one big rise and fall
The wrinkles and foam I produce

Mighty is my capacity to drench
Administering liquid in great degrees

Sand and rock are my enemy
They dare to stand in my way

In the end, it's my nature I adore
The constant eb and flow
The morning misty white
winter's night turns through blue to pink
a delicate porcelain haze
diaphanous scarf of silk that floats
above the sleeping hills  
this season
like a dream
creates the beautiful scene
that decorates the window every day
of which I never tire
an ever changing kaleidoscope
of colours shapes and sounds
but now
all is cloaked in snow in mounds

Margaret Ann Waddicor 19th January 2016
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