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Marla May 29
I saw a man die at sea when I was thirteen,
An anchor through his heart.
Not a moment in my life has haunted me more than that one.
After the accident, everybody tried to pretend it was okay
And that life goes on without a hitch.
My parents talked about what happened like it was a ball game,
The moment of impact a flurry of excitement in their lives.
They told me it was all okay and that none of it was their fault
And maybe they were right.
But they never cared about my bloodstained eyes
Or how my soul was forever stained with fear and loss that night.
I was told I didn't need therapy when I asked for it.
I was told that they were fine and by association so was I.
Something in me never bought that lie though, a part of my life
Died with what was left of his.

My innocence was lost that night when I mourned for him,
On both of my knees praying to god so that his soul could be saved.
I don't feel safe on boats anymore,
Yet they made me ride the same one for many years after,
Taking me to beaches I didn't want to bathe in
And then lecturing me for not having a good time.

If this is you now and the people in your life
Tell you to bury the pain deep,
Don't listen.
If you do,
You'll end up like me:
A broken person who sees ghosts when they sleep.
I've seen a lot in this life that I could have done well without.
If you need a helping hand or someone to listen, don't hesitate to find help.
Storing it all way will only convince you things are fine for so long.
Drops round and run down low
Mud forms and creates tiny valleys within.
Red roads drop and rises ,
As insults flashes like thunder bolts.
Horns deafen ears,
As blood blinds eyes .

Rollercoaster highways,

Or more like riding a bull,
Feel the aches in the waist.
Infact the mechanical horses were older 
than earth herself.
You could see holes and rust 
in the metals.
The government stood by the red road idle,accepting fines and kinds.
If only they had listened to their cries,
Blood would still remain in veins.
Most road accidents in my home country are due to bad roads, old rickety trucks and careless drivers. Some blame the government, others blame the traffic police (they believe it's their job to check these things yet their corrupt ways make it impossible!....  The citizens call them "aban" which means "government".)
djemal ua Apr 11
in a respected ride with veteran
battle scars, a tribute to a friend died.
Saluted the life blood sponging highway
to impress bloated pride on hit-the-snooze
Sunday, behind closed eyes, a naked marching
parade. Went too fast, flying untied, caged
bird set free wings won’t stop, ’til sun-kissed wings.
Last thoughts Mother’s day, another write up
for motorcycle cop, inking red dots
on desk duty paper. Homage to crumpled
carnage, nothing to see but stiff salvage.
Sharon Talbot Feb 12
A prim, lavender skirt and a napkin on it,
Tells me this is serious, and I mustn’t
Rain upon it, not say what I think,
And much less what I feel.
You have found a lover
And she isn’t me,
I wish I was an eel
That could glide away
Into the primordial sea.

On second thought, it makes me
Wish that we had never met,
That I’d never looked at you and loved,
Or at least never brought you home.
It was there that it all began;
I assumed your were mine alone,
And now I am empty man.

Oh, my love,
For the first time in my life!
You did this to me,
Without knowing, charmed me
Until I was undone.
But accidents will happen;
It was only hit and run;
Such investigative fun!
Don’t tell the other one I feel this way.

On second thought let him…..
Follow me into danger
Since a gamble is good as a rest,
Or the off chance I’ll get shot.
After all, this admirer’s the best
Of a mediocre lot.

But he knows about me, I’m sure.
He’s gets so little reward,
But takes credit for what I do
And hangs upon my every word.
He listens to me in the dead of night
As you used to do.
It’s comforting that he’s not you.

-Unfinished Lament
veritas Dec 2018
you curl your fingers around the nape of the
passenger seat and the cold
metal stings but you can feel the
ghost of the prey brush your body
like the streetlights on the backseat last night
before you clutched the headrest and
you reach in the dark but
your hands miss the leather

the warm body heat of the car
thrumming up beneath you slams
your head into the dashboard where
the light turns from a bruised yellow to a crippled red
you are awake again
the steering wheel is cooler than you remember
smoother, sleeker, stealthy the wheel
will turn the predator around in a circle because
it seems to mimic itself where
in mimicry it is found
oh tyger tyger simmering out
you drive.
the gear shift does not obey when you
push it up rough and messy but it
locks in gear while you
wrap your fingers around the curve
and grind to a halt in the road
you cannot make this cliff.
the light in the dash blinks.
the trunk is opening and the vehicle is still moving
you roll down your window to ask the night a question in the glazed white of moonlight that is
so much like forgetting
will this road take me back to Del Sol and the Girl Who Lost Her Lover on Route 66?
she doesn't respond but
that is okay because the vehicle is still moving
and the leather is slick between your thighs
and you are going down
tonight you will descend.
the night will draw you home.
goodnight lover.
this was started out as two simultaneous stories but obvious i digressed (again?)
Caeden Regester Sep 2018
Their skin is so beautiful
Their skin is covered in hair

It's my job to wipe that all away
Bring out their beauty, fresh anew

I get to work, scraping blade
The hair begins to fall away
We're happy as
I do my job today

But then I slip up,
Slicing into them
Their hair remains and
They're in pain

I resolve to do better
Return to the job at hand
Only to slip again
Cutting even deeper still

over and over
deeper and deeper

I just want to do my job,
I just want to release their beauty
For all the world to see

But again and again, I wound them ever deeply
When will I get it right?
When will I learn from my mistakes?

The bleeding won't stop.
Francie Lynch Jul 2018
Why should I care you're there,
Or anywhere.
It was you who interrupted the night;
I watched you stare down the fire,
Scrape your initials in the ashes.
If it weren't for family,
The confusion and strained dialogue,
Like appearances,
I wouldn't see you at all.
Stay you do, everywhere.

So I tell a joke or two, one line quips,
And you were smiling,
While you're there,
Where I should no longer care.

What would be the aftermath of such a collision?
One wreck towed off.
It doesn't bother me in the least,
Our complimentary pauses
At the four way stops,
Or roadside memorials,
With faded yellow ribbons and thirsty flowers
Pinned to a styrofoam cross.
There is no rest, and little peace.
awknight Mar 2018
Jump from the building,
fall so quickly the lights
turn to stars and
cannot put their arms around
you in time.
Slit your own throat to watch
yourself drown in creation.
Pull the nails from your eyes
and place them in your coffin —
home.
An ant, imagine, burned by the
flame. Your soul splattered
across the picturesque skyline—
art.
Ink of a life never told across
windshields, across concrete,
across guardrails.
“Just ******* do it.” Your body
ceases obeying its abuser.
Only the mind spreads the
blood of your soul, when you
least expect it.
Stella Dec 2017
I don't know if I want it to linger
Or to fog up as this subtle reminder
But all I can believe in now
Is my fear of no more

By chance my body had to be turned
So I could watch this horrific demonstration
So I could be a useless witness
Thrown away by my helpless position,
and with no way of knowing their condition

Today, I have a fresh scar
Today, I'm afraid to start
Real life experience
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