Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Anais Vionet Dec 2021
Christmas has been trending and
I chose to play into the parasocial violence,
with no salt or brakes physically and emotionally,
- the holidays - lush and fresh, just hit different.

When I see the lights, the smiles, and get my hugs
I want to cry and throw up from joy at the same time.
The holidays make me believe in love. I don’t care.
violence = slang for being cute on social media
Ellyn k Thaiden Nov 2023
I don't want to die

I just want enough cash to survive.
I just want food on the table,
Clothes on our backs,
And a handful of of happy memories

I don't want to die

I just want life to be simple,
I just want to run away from my problems,
I just want
I just want
I just want
I just want to

I don't want to die

I want to not feel selfish.
I just want to take a breath.
To not feel the guilt creep in,
Every time I watch Netflix or Disney.
Every time I try to get a good deal at Walmart or Amazon,
When I buy a burger,
Buy a shirt,
Buy a vacuum,
Buy water
that I'm helping a company further dig it's talons into our soil, our souls,
Our morales trying to take refuge somewhere not in reality
Because this reality can't sustain
A healthy mind
And a healthy wallet
At the same time

I don't want to die

My mind won't stop screaming.
The mind never quiets,
Never pauses,
Never takes respite.

I have locked eyes with something,
I'm not sure what yet.
It waits patiently, though,
At the edge of my vision.

It feels like I can't breathe,
I can't breathe,
"Please, bend the knee,
Get off of me!"

I don't want to die

Gaza is being bombed
Mother's cry out for their children
Father's carry theirs in grocery sacks
The people have been cut of from water, food, electricity, internet

I don't want to die

But sometimes it feels endless,
Feels like I'll never get my peace,
It feels like I'm carving out a place in the world that rejects me at every turn.
An endless fight, rolling the stone uphill.
And yet, I try.

I don't want to die.

I want to keep trying.

I want to keep moving,
Keep making noise
We need to keep making noise,
Now is the time that we resist
Now is the time that we fight back

They can't keep us in the dark anymore
We are seeing the light
Post by post
Video by video
Lived experience, parasocial relationships, live footage
We are watching the horror around the world
As a collective
We can be so much more than individuals, we can rise up
As a collective

I don't want to die

Sometimes it might feel like
I want to die
But I promise, it's not a permanent feeling
We can channel our anguish into passion
Our passion into words
Our words into action
We have the power of transmutation
We can decide where our story goes

I don't want to die

I want to fight
Free Palestine. Free Hawaii. Free Congo. Free Puerto Rico. And more. And don't lose hope. We have the power to change so much. We are on the brink of a whole new way of life, where capitalism and patriarchy and religion don't have to rule our lives. We can do amazing things.
Nolan Bucsis Jun 7
I'm not like I used to be?
And how did I be?
When
I can be,
anything.

A custom made compartmentalized personality.
For every individual iterative person.
I meet.

Where did I go?

How hard did you look between the fantasy and reality.
What quotes of mine did you write your play about me with?
I am the performance of efficiency,
Get in, get out, interact as little as possible.

Authenticity in me is a contradiction,
Whole in its execution.

And,
Identity?

It,
and,
I,
remain relatively unchanged.

Fragmented,
But holistic and consistent if you
Get the whole picture.
In dolby digital sound,
Polychrome.

But,
I won't show you homeostatic Nolan.
I'm always too this,
Always too that,
Usually an embarassment.

So,
I learned,
To let you write who I am.
And,
just listen,

To your autobiography
Of who I'm sposed to be.
Permutated
With bad habits.
My love for you is parasocial
But I swear we knew each other once before
Its always a little(very) one sided in the end, isn't it?
Kiernan Norman Dec 2024
I wonder if Taylor Swift
reads poems like mine,
filled with guys who are
forever running away,
or standing still
in the shadow of the last word.

I wonder if Taylor Swift has ever been
the last person at the party,
waiting for someone to notice the empty room,
wondering when she stepped out of her heels,
and who stuffed them in their bag,
as she left the night behind like an art thief,
taking all the pieces no one thought they'd miss
until they’re staring at a wall of empty frames.

I wonder if Taylor Swift has ever looked at a stranger and thought,
‘You are the version of me that never had to sing
about all the things I can’t say aloud—
the version that’s free of the weight
of every note I write.’

Somewhere, in a parallel universe,
I hand her my heart—
heavy with everything we never spoke,
but she doesn’t need to read it,
because in this universe,
we’ve already lived the words.

Somewhere, she writes me back,
telling me that love
is just a song
we forgot to finish,
and maybe, in the silence,
we’ll finally hear it echo between us,
looping in a way that sounds
like both a beginning and an ending.
I heard a wise man saying,
"I wouldn't just abandon a friend
Simply because they were going through
Some strange parasocial moment.
Although, I will admit
That I may not fully understand it.
That I might not be able
To fully appreciate their perception
Of whatever given situation."

For, you see,
We can only truly speak
On that of our perspectives.
Yet, compassion is itself wisdomous.
I’m nice, I’m fragile. I’m deeply unclean.
Two-faced, I’m writing about my mistakes
In a truest, maybe, snapshot escape

Even opaque, small, mocking pokes
Deepen that parasocial machina
From the black mirror, marching, it groped

I ignore my mind when it’s trying the most
I ignore my dad when he’s dying. I hope
The end is as transitory as it’s in memory

Then am I smearing a brainstalk Gemini
Their name around, on a leash, I spoke
Like ants emerging from the scaffolds of Babel

Like grotesque stats- like millions- Billionsthought
Those that huff endorphins as if in some battle
Half-twins and crows feet back-bearing taut

Rope, learning for the first time to tie them. Again,
in Wonderful Heat, or the West, and a Siege
Spanning, hilariously, the contiguous Bethlehem

I’m lost. I’m dirt-caked. I’m dragging a scene.
Chaptered; I’m acting it out in the mud
In a ghostly transparence before only your sun

Even fainting, trying to see my reflection
Deep- God, “Somewhere!” within the cogwork
Into ‘stead pulled the mud stains suction

I stir, my mouth sputters out with invicta
I breathe. For the sun, can I see still, is living
A last invocation, and its light dims the distance
from janurary 7, 2020
poem from the past a day #21
there isn't much to talk about here. a stepping stone poem, a couple interpolations from my other poems, especially ones that i was writing at the time and which will come later. same old mess of words.

— The End —