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Alice Wilde Aug 2018
Dead heavy eyes stare...
Glued to stoplights lining rain soaked streets.
An arid tongue placed, no permanently stuck against pink flesh bone
Waiting for when everything doesn’t seem like a dream.
She thinks blinking is a way to clear her sea foam eyes,
Like how polishing stone makes it brighter.
But no matter how hard she rubs
The rain falls harder and
Clarity seems like a wish
She dropped in a puddle.
mc ish Jun 2019
june 10

do not tell me i imagined the look in your eyes when i fell through
i could determine your hurt the moment i laid eyes on another
please do not tell me i am believing this deceiving love i cannot describe
believe me when i say
i only wish to read poems about the brush of our knees
only songs about the seconds that feel like hours when you look at me and laugh
like nothing else has mattered for centuries
i would love to see the painting to describe your horrible side comments
and your refusal to explain
a statue inspired by your love and my hope that it is me
god i hope its me
i hope it's me that creates your fullest grins and your deepest passions
i hope i can ground you and send you flying all at once
i hope that something in you sees something in me worthy of seeing
but if it does not
i hope she gives you sunrises breaking and autumn burning
i hope she tells you everything i ever thought
i hope she gets to kiss you outside of her fantasies and hold you outside of her wildest daydreams
she would be lucky
and i would not blame her for loving you
Adrianna Jul 2018
I began my life active with sports and other meaningless award systems.
Girl's recreational soccer, basketball, bike riding, math competitions, the works
Today, I feel weightless
useless would be best fit
As if all the running, jumping, yelling, point requiring statuses pushed the light out of my transitioned life.

I find myself sitting in one area often, as one may do
But different than sitting on a bench or sitting actively in company of others
I sit wondering exactly who I am looking at
Why am I empty lifeless longing towards an imaginary spot in the distant wall
I imagine some events in these minutes of stoic despair
Hearing goes weak and frozen, in this second, while I continue my Sunday brunch with non-conformative attitudes and her mother, the sweet old dementia
I don't mean to have their meetings often, I must of first acquainted as the first grade trauma or the Broadway rendition of Alone Thoughts featuring the Broken High School Years.
I hope to work the wheels again, to end these meetings and to live for once, in the midst of motion and pause.
This time, stopping and starting as I please.
Hi everyone, this is my first poem! I write a lot when I am thinking of my life and this world. Hope you enjoy
Dad lays on the couch,
And clicks and clicks,
And wonders where it went wrong,
And the clock ticks,
And ticks and ticks some more,
And the wrinkles deepen,
A persistent fog of weariness,
Clouding his perspective,
Unsure where to place blame,

Too heavy of a weight to carry himself,
And his head shakes back and forth,

The History Channel plays a feature on the Battle of Gettysburg,

And Dad shakes his head some more,
Battles in his head what to do,
His mind and heart battle each other too,
To stay or to go?
Tensions high, passion low,

And the clock ticks to 10:00,
And Dad lumbers upstairs for bed.

Another night and nothing was said,
The words all jumbled in his head.
Capriccio Dec 2019
My Motions are on E Again
No Ecstasy  
Free from Elation
End of Day
Bad Boss Back to Screaming

Loco is his Motion
Shelby Marler Apr 2019
Make me an ocean,
So I may still all my dreams,
And my motions' devotion,
For sweet melodies.
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