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IPM Sep 2017
I've been asked
why I've been cold
or seemingly - just mean
tell you the truth,
quite recently
I don't care
for a thing.

I've been asked
quite frequently
to state my sanity,
or maybe I'm
just acting strange
against all clarity.

I've been asked
behind the scenes
why I hate my writing,
it may be so
that in my core
I don't want to be seen.

I've been asked...
what have I been asked ?
I don't remember it...
Ah, it's irrelevant
I still don't care
and never will begin...






yet, deep inside,
where all my feelings
sparkle, dimly lit
it may be short, but
for a while... I care
a tiny bit...
Abbie Argo Sep 2017
i am the insomniac's day dream
but i am tired of carrying your bags, too
i am exhausted from cradling your face, shushing and swaying and singing lullabies
whispering secrets kept out of apathy
deaf ears and blind eyes and scrambled brain - sunny side up at three in the morning
i am so tired that all i want to do is run and jump and yell and ask why things happen the way that they happen
who set all this up and what do they want from me
what are those noiseless sounds that fill a dark room
why did you take my charles bukowski book when you left
fingerless hands paw at the missing pages
but there isn't anything there, not anymore
Elena Basophil Sep 2017
I don't want to study.
But that's not the problem.
I don't want to go to class.
That's not the problem either.
But,
I don't want to watch movies or read books,
Or sing songs or play games.
I don't want to walk or eat,
Or at least try to sleep.
I just want to curl up in my bed,
In a fetal position like a cooked shrimp,
And think and think and think
About everything wrong about this life,
Or maybe pray that I'd just vanish into thin air,
So nothing would matter anymore.
Sam Sep 2017
Days crumbling faster, still the countless shades of hopeless linger in my eyes. Like notes written on a napkin from a diner where the doors never lock. A napkin soon to be ravaged by hands and stuffed into a pocket. The end result, shreds and pieces.
Reminiscent of the current state of my still beating heart.
                      Questioning every thought, every dream. Life falling
apart as the zipper travels down the seam. Skies become gray, and everything is grim. Love lost to the girl who stole my whole world. Now I fill the void with cigarettes left half smoked. Trying to find a way, to mend a heart left fully broke.
Tatiana Aug 2017
I used to think my greatest fear was drowning
but I made peace with the water
and I no longer fear it in the way I used to.
I respect it,
but it has no conscious ability to drown me.
No, my fear has changed.
I fear boredom
and the horrible apathy that it leads to.
My mind is constantly racing with thoughts,
plans for the future,
possible conversations,
ideas for poems, stories, and art projects.
As well as what could be considered impossible.
But that is too much to handle at once
so I normally can focus my thoughts into one outlet at a time.
But then I became bored.
Nothing I normally did acted as a good outlet,
and my mind wandered to more negative ideas
that I had to fight myself to avoid.

Drink to slow down the thoughts
No, there's a history of alcoholism in my family.
Keep eating food, more and more food
No, I just ate, I'm not hungry.
Smoke a cigarette
No, I'm ******* asthmatic, you idiot.

Once those ideas have been shot down
I try to get myself to do what I normally do.

You have an unfinished painting, you should finish it
Not interested
What about the story you're working on?
Doesn't matter
How about finishing your work?
Boring
Necessary
Boring

And nothing appeases it
because nothing makes me feel anything in that moment.
So my thoughts reign supreme
and they hammer in my skull.
I can plan out the next 3 months
and be right about what happens.
But it's not worth my mind caving in on itself.
It's not worth it.

I always say to keep mind over matter
but I realize the horrible imbalance I have created.
By valuing my mind constantly
I forgot what matters.

So I fear boredom
because if I can not appease it.
Apathy will be in charge
and that ruins everything.
I genuinely don't know how to handle it and I feel like this doesn't explain it properly but it's all I can come up with at the moment.
© Tatiana
Harry Roberts Aug 2017
It's not what you took
Or what you left with
It's the skeletons that remain.

Rotting flesh,
Carcass & bone.

Mud, Blood
&
Cold hard stone.

It's the Art of Apathy
And how you embrace
Emptiness like a hidden lover.
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