Your time
Is
Move
Ing



Your Heart
Is
Beat
Ing



The clock
Is
Tick
Ing



What Are
You
Do
Ing



What Are
You
Wait
Ing



Your time
Is
Run
Ning



Go catch
It
Hur
Ry



You're Dy
Ing
Slow
Ly



Tic
Toc
Tic
Toc



Lub
Dub
Lub
Dub



Up
Down
L­eft
Right



Too
Loose
Too
Tight



Live
Die
Crawl
Fly



Old
You­ng
Will
Die



Soon
Er
Late
R



Do
You
Feel
It



Hate
It
Fear
I­t



Fight
It
To
Death



Fight
A
Gainst
Death



Can
You
Do
It

­Will
You
Win



Or
Stop
Think
In
Not
A
Gain



What Makes
It
Dif
Fer



To Breath
While
Stare
Ing



Do
Ing
No
Thing



Keep
Time
Go
Ing



­Is This
Live
Ing



No
I
Think



Do
You
Think



We
Drink
We
Smoke
­


We Made
Love
We Broke



We Drugged
And We Bragged



We Sped Up
The Clock



We Shit
And We Fuck
Keep Repeatin
The Crap



Oh But
Your Butt
Isn't A
Nice Ass



You Gave
Your Body
You Get A
Free Pass



We End Up
Racing
We Sleep Up
Pissing



We Live
Like Hell
In A World
Like Heaven



We Did
Much Fun
Is It Quite Worth
The Run?



What Have
You Done?



Nothing,
Next To None



We All Bought
Money
Money Bought All
We



We Became All Free
But Nothing Was Free



Count One To Three
Are We Alive Yet



We All Rot Together
Are We Not Dead Yet?

Written
17 November 2014

Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
moquino 2d

should stars like tears
fall to my feet,
i shall look up for damage done,
for eyes like mine
from which beauty may shine
simply seem to know none.

at 4d

I'm sorry my bones are fragile,
breaking from the touch of your voice.
I'm sorry my tears burned your delicate skin,
and sorry if my screams broke your ribs.

I'm sorry I ran away,
away from your charcoal claws.
I'm sorry I house a broken body
and tore my cracking heart.

I'm sorry I fought off the darkness in my veins,
but too tired to fend off your demons.
I'm sorry I was the one who carved your scars
and squeezed your creaking lungs.

I'm sorry for saying "I'm sorry."
I'm sorry for believing that phrase
can heal bullet wounds,
and align planets.

Nicole 5d

she writes the things that come to her mind in the middle of the night in bursts of blobs of bullshit.
the words come spilling from her mouth and it reeks,
like a trash can left unattended for weeks on end.
she wakes the morning after and reads it back in hopes for a glimpse into her psyche,
but nada.
nothing.  
her brain is a chaotic something that even she cannot make sense of.
her pretty words do nothing to disguise the true mess that lies beneath the surface.
new flowers on an old grave,
the facade
doesn’t mask the decaying body underneath.
the beautiful colors of fall,
failing to disguise the scent of the rotting leaves on the road side.
pretty words from a pretty mouth
with no purpose or meaning.

Traumatic.
anxiety and the state
Of ones mind
Is actually more crippling
than the obstacle that we face.
Once we have faced that hurdle
We can be more confident
in the future
We will think again about the worry we put ourselves through

even — which burned this hearth
can not break free itself — from
a gin of its own tongue — since
an ember starts from the word "fire"

an opportunity are also promises
will test its own sincerity — on
stirring-fate in a hot cauldron
which vaporized a lot of anxious

"should I believe
on the potion i made — if
that shatter in this frame
is my own fear?"

Makayla Shea Aug 6

The lights
The noise
The music
The sounds
The voices
The dance
The life
It brings
Both vibrancy
And anxiety
Both life
And death
Most everyone
Loves it all
But not I
I love
And I hate
There is dark
And light
It's all
A paradox
Just as
Am I.

There is this dance thing every Saturday night in the summer, and my friends and I have started going a lot, it's a lot of fun but it also makes me anxious.
Samantha Jul 7

I'm always nervous that you hate me
And I wouldn't blame you
And I try to calm down
But anxiety is my best friend
Who loves to pass me notes in class that say
"They hate you"
So strong so confident
Why wouldn't I believe them?
But if you do hate me you don't say it
If you're upset you never tell me
These are what I lay awake at night afraid of
Please don't leave me i love you
I tell myself to grow up and smile
But Anxiety loves to show up in my dreams
Nightmares
And I don't wanna bother you anymore than I already do
I love you please don't hate me

i an anxious 87% of the time
Michael Ryan Jul 7

Large and unburdened
these hands show my true weakness--
spread across silken sheets
and the gentle touch will feel
as if desert sands were
wedged between the threading--
those threads do not breath as easy
as these hands of mine do.

They look and feel
as privileged as my ghostly appearance
would lead the World to believe--
even watermelons harden in the sun,
but these hands of mine
are closer to being ballet dancers
except they've never
had to learn to dance.  

They've never had to be successful
and I've been led to believe
failure was optional--
that with each attempt the World
will give me a do-over.  

Sometimes or maybe always
people eventually run out
of opportunity,
and instead they are left
with

...better luck next time.

Sometimes people didn't give up, but instead were never given another chance.  We see where people or things end up, but that's not how they/it  really got there.
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