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jasmine wild May 7
you turn to me but i'm not there
i'm drowning
i told you but you couldn't listen
the thoughts won't make sense
none are clear
they're surrounding
encompassing and unnerving
if i take one last breath
would you notice the body
folded neatly
lying under the baggage
you placed on my back
i can no longer support myself
but you won't take the load
stuck inside your head
and i'm stuck with you
if i stop speaking
i'll stop breathing
so i'll carry on until my
fingers are shaking too much
from lack of oxygen
or sometimes too much
i can hear my breathing
speeding up faster
ready to take off and
fly away with what's left of
my soul and spirit
that you didn't crush
still going as i recognise
the dizzy daze i'm falling into
waiting to collapse in
on myself for maybe
the last time
for a while at least
we both know it won't happen
because of you
i couldn't however much you
argue and scream and shout
or maybe it's because of her
calming my mind
ok i have to stop now
i told you it would get too much
once again i say
i'm sorry
remember me
or the old me
if you can
it wasn't your fault
pre crippling panic attack
Evelyn Ann Apr 11
Its is long overdue
We have already wasted enough time

We have carried this weight, these baggage and so much emotional turmoil, for too long, it blinds us and hinders us

Making us uncomfortable, unacceptable, unable to grow, unable to see what needs to be removed from our lives and unable to overcome obstacles

But I am too afraid....

No, we are afraid to remove such a blindfold and such a hindrance

It seem almost impossible
Because these are things that I....

No, these are the things we treasurer the most.
Hindsight, hallowed be thy name.

All I've got is luggage... luggage!
My God! Turn around; find my comrades slumped under the weights strapped to their spine!
Limping, bearing, burdened by non-negotiables while the High Court of Good Karma takes collective sabbatical —
and this knapsack of shame, I've partial credit in filling.

Grey handkerchief, original sin:
one. single. suckerpunch. and my fists are raised forever,
begging for the chance to swing and prove my own strength
— supposing the opportunity never fell into my lap — I'd said "**** it," packed a

hundred grams of bushy brushed-out curls, stop-sign red
fifty grams of lips to match (uniform too, now I think about it)
fifty grams of raccoon eyelids and coloured-in brows
hundred grams of halls of mirrors, circus-attraction Alice
lose a hundred/gain a hundred/repeat til dizzy
hundred grams of ******-in stomach, eyes averted in changing rooms
wigs by the armful — that's three — nom-de-plumes thrown in gratis
(it's only a journey to the rest of my life anyway, I'll need them,
alternative being cinematic debut as Myself)
hundred performances to imaginary audiences, less-than-stellar reviews
hundred grams of overwhelming then underwhelming "on purpose"
hundred grams of laughing off any belief in potential
hundred grams of scratch-marks and verbal fountains of venom
hundred grams of giving almostneverquite as good as I got
hundred grams of group-work alone thank ****(?)
hundred biro-holes stabbed in martyred pencil cases
feral in broad daylight spoiling for a fight
kilo of aiming for 'scary' and landing on 'strange'
kilo of being third to make good company a crowd
kilo of taking sixteen years to find Her
— Shadowboxer Fiona, rhythms invisible, catharsis in art —
hundred doodled superstitious evil-eyes in the ruled margins
hundred laments over the inability to provide a better future

(removed one by one whenever I think the future's mutable)

that one glimpse of white lightning in a violet storm
one single minute's pause to look over my shoulder
scarce-to-zero progress made
endless miles to go
breathless body soaked to the bone
and this useless! *******! bag! of Everything and nothing of value!!
mansions worth of loathing yet there's nothing to lose
did I decide that because I can't change the world, I can change nothing at all
(instead throwing darts at reflections/emotional *****/kicking stray dogs as a full-time hobby)?

O clarity so saccharine that I cannot be angered by the wasted years
I take it
   off my shoulder,
the first kind action I have spared myself in time unguessable
    air it out...
and trudge on
The world's enough of an uphill climb.
written after too much time poring over allen ginsberg. ambivalent about this but the alternative is endless writers' block so this way i've at least got something to show for myself
Mitch Prax Oct 2020
stop carrying the
baggage of the past to an
unwritten future

6:31 PM
Monisha Sep 2020
We met many many years back
When the realisation hit that I may need you
I met you at home and the street  but as a vision
When my mum constantly reminded me to get you home
I rebelled and didn’t want to
I met you in my tears
When someone wanted you
More than me,
I met you in disdain
When I saw many who had you
But strutted around in false pride.
And I didn’t want you.

And here you are,
Many moons later,
Wherein I rediscovered you.
It was never you, it was the picture I painted.
I am getting closer to you now
Fresh canvas,
Wispy and comforting,
Uplifting like a kite 🪁 in the sky,
You’re blooming,
You smell fresh as a 🌹.

You’re “getting lighter”,
And  to me now it is not my weight in body,
But the heaviness in my heart and mind,
That I am getting lighter with.
And as I do, I find you so comforting,
You were always my friend,
I didn’t see you
As people and my heaviness painted you as an enemy,
You’re my angel
And I know you better,
Getting closer to you,
Whispy, floating and free.
I like you lightness,
You’re me now.

You so want to come closer to me,
Constantly trying to invade  my mind,
Tentacle my  thoughts and dreams.
But hey I get you,
I am going to set you free.
Because now you’re inside of me
And my journey in the  here and now is to be.
You’re sweet and I get you,  
But sweetness is one flavour,
And I like it spicy and tangy as well,
A tad bitter, some more there,
So I’ll just set you free.

Now, I am free,
Whispy and floating,
Pink and sparkly,
Becoming me...
The grey tint of the world washes away to a vibrant, sharp, colorful mess.

I have only now begun to realize there's been a change in the way I've seen for years.

The love I've kept hidden somewhere inside of me has poured from my heart and colored in the grey.

The blues, greens, and yellows all contrast more than they use to.

They had all been tugged down by baggage I've been trying so hard to unpack.

Now that I have seen the beauty,
I'm not sure I ever want to pack my bags again.
Gabriela Cintron Jul 2020
There you are
Here I am

Are we going to stop the rain for us to cancel out the noise of our past

If you step out from under here
You will drown
In my baggage
And this is why I'm staying single for a while
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