Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Brumous 5d
thousands of them
I hear each day
the beat of adrenaline
is enough to tire me
I like to retrace some moments with that kind of rush, even if it is a little violent; like the time I slipped and nearly dislocated my ankle; I was in too much shock that I had shortness of breath, and I barely heard a thing that I tried having the air of a fan going through my ears to at least calm me down. But, I don't really like being unable to breathe properly; I remembered crying so much that time; there was a power cut and a storm.
GraciexJones Jun 4
You’re a storm in summer,
So fast-moving and out of the blue,

You’re like the first day of Spring,
Blooming and slowly rising,
Amongst the decomposing earth,

You’re like a shifting darkness,
Hard to tell where you start and begin,
Filling the space with your whole being,

Your firelight flares up like a firefly,
So bright and fluttering through the twilight,

Your eyes glow with a glace of gold and rose,
So fired up on adrenaline,
Running through the countryside like a wild fox,

Your depression is like the deep artic sea,
When it gets so heavy you crawl into your shell,
So desolated with your own thoughts

You’re like a broken violin,
So beautiful but splintered with visible scars,
From the lovers who had misled you in the past
I am not afraid of the roads,
Or of all the fast cars, in a hurry to do something else,
In a hurry to win the race,
They set me free, they make me feel alive,
And I don't fear death, because I live well enough every day,
As if it was my last.
Madisen Kuhn Mar 27
maybe i leave it all till the last minute because some gritty part of me loves the rapid pulse of pulling back right before the truck turns the corner and blows through the stretch of hot asphalt i was just lying down and burning my skin on. it tears down the road, out of sight, and i’ve still got all my limbs intact. maybe almost failing feels a bit like cheating death, like how breathing feels after a contest of who can hold it longer in the motel pool, or how good a glass of ice-cold water tastes after downing a bag of potato chips. there are plenty of hours in the day. i could wake up at six or sleep in till noon and it wouldn’t make much of a difference. i’m just a girl who loves the taste of scraping by.
Broke my hand cycling. I fled, away
from something; chasing my psyche.
Felt nothing. Earth-grazer.
Rush of adrenaline. I fall, anger
turned inward does harm unto me;
I see myself spiraling.

They gave me a pair of local anesthetics
for the surgery, not psychoactive (although
the level of physical detachment was curious).
The nerve-block employed lidocaine, bupivacaine,
And the latter was mixed with epinephrine
to increase its duration of action:
This resulted in shivering and anxiety.
I suppose it is the archetypal stimulant.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2020

(~for R.A.~)
pour la Canadienne

The inside flat of
the upper left arm,
“the arm proper,”
a body part,
held in
low regard,
for it is not
easy visible,
nor is it the arm of
Jerusalem cunning.^

Few realize
it alone,
the only skin
that can be
pressed direct
upon the
beating (dis)heartened

upon it,
upon you,
I’ve inscribed in
richest blue India ink,
these words
ready for transfer,
s k i n  to  s k i n,
an instant injection,
more powerful

◄ Psalm 137:5 ►
“If I Forget Thee, O Jerusalem, Let My Right Hand Forget Her Cunning”

as is sometimes the case,
these words came to me
fully formed
in the mid of night
some say upon the same place,
but on the right arm was drawn
“a map of Canada
Oh, Canada
With your face sketched on it twice”
Brian Yule Aug 2020
Gazing down
I see this dull blade drew blood
Dial blind as ache lulls
Defy ease as life oozes free
Don’t lie down
Don’t sleep
Keep fear sharp
As faint creeps the soothing deep
Passions eked
Awareness do not forsake me
Come on
Come on
I stare vague at the mess where my wrist used to be
Which emergency?
Ambulance please
Consciousness bleeds
I wake with cool linen covering me
sliding down
quick, hot
and its taste
lingering in
the insides of my
mouth now
dancing inside
my body
and running
in my blood
like a marathon
racing to
the finish
only to get
me feeling
weak in the knees
and my mind was
once full of
stressed thoughts
unnecessary pain
is now emptied
into the sound of
good laughs
and clanking glasses
drowning in the
my body
in its rhythm
and my heart
sings where
people can hear it.
Did you hear it?
when I asked you
to dance?
when I grabbed you
by the hand
going with every
beat of the music?
when we smiled at
each other,
locked eyes
and I told you
what a great time
this was?
did you feel it?
did you feel
the way
I did?
drink the thoughts and feelings away
Sharon Talbot May 2020
I heard about the sloop John B.
When I was fourteen.
I had learned to sail in a storm
And the story gave me daring,
Although I had lost control,
Tightening the sail
Instead of letting it out
In a sudden gale.
And just in time, a boat passed
With a man who shouted,
“Loosen the main sheet!”
As the boat heeled to starboard,
And I nearly capsized.
But discovered a fair wind
And the ease of a beam reach.
So my first time was the worst,
And best…
But adrenaline fueled desire,
To do this again and again!
This is a fond memory, which really happened, but I like to apply it to life, except when I'm feeling adventurous!
Next page