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Andrew Rueter Apr 22
Nighttime is perilous
pestilential predators lurk
evisceration entropy envelopes everything
wounds are collected like keys to doors leading underground
and I can hear a jingling in my pocket
so I denounce the nighttime
unlocking the door to a home
where one can sleep at night.

But once I go outside in tomorrow’s morning
the sunlight shines into my soul, cooking my sutured skin
along with the keys I’ve collected
burning through my clothes
and into my body
flies can smell subcutaneous sizzling a mile away
they yearn to feast, buzzing all around me
crawling through my insides
multiplying
while vultures fly laps around me from above.

So I throw a nocturnal drape over the tumultuous foothills
and begin imparting my basement keys onto others
an imposing locksmith
a charitable safecracker
Johnny Applekeys
prowling with pouncing predators
masking my petulant bitterness with false wisdom
my edgy perception of maturity tells me to be jaded
hey, that’s just the way it is
I call myself an honest realist
a self ordained keymaster
I wear my key ring proudly
and distribute keys to those around me.

Stuck between persistent motion and paralysis
my key chains start swinging like pendulums
dancing like an opposing militia
like my eyes once I start getting nervous
waiting for the receipts to my exchanges
reflecting how I’m living in the red
and the debt I owe others
I can only pay in keys leading nowhere.

I try to convince them that the doors I unlock lead to riches
but we all know they’re paths to the hell from whence I came
my words are for myself
like the hell I man the ferry for
selling keys to scary doors
used as lifeboats in my shipwreck life
surviving off of other people’s strife.

The keys are overflowing from my makeshift pit
they poke into my veins like needles from the past
suffocating me like a rat in an hourglass, buried in sand
I imagine it’s the beach to the shore I can reach no more
unlike my swamp where I act as lifeguard
to a lagoon no man inhabits
I say “the water is fine, hop on in”
when I don’t even know how to swim
so even the trees think that I’m dim
when I hang my keys on their limbs.

Surviving night means eat or be eaten
yet my decisions effect daytime treatment
when scars put me behind bars
I inquire as to the depth of the dungeon
digging a subterranean home then diving deeper
finding company at the bottom with grim reapers
where the ostrich that flies is ostracized until it’s fossilized
so I sit in my estranged egg
not wanting to ever hatch
but no matter how much I beg
my keys unlock the latch.
Mikey Kania Dec 2019
there is a cage
inside this cage
there is a man
inside this man
there is his soul
inside his soul



ghosts are debatting
about the pros and cons
of darkness and light
under olivegreen water; under a lightblue sun
you can see and hear and smell and taste
a ghostly girl

IN MEMORIAM: IAN CURTIS (JOY DIVISION)

"A change of speed, a change of style.
A change of scene, with no regrets,
A chance to watch, admire the distance,
Still occupied, though you forget."

YouTube: "Joy Division New Dawn Fades"
In my eyes
The world is the darkest and smallest
basement in the biggest house the galaxy has to offer,

In my eyes
The sun can't be my light
not after i found you, the brightest sunshine

The sea
The love i got

You hagged it
And the light that shined in my eyes
blined me forever

Now the world is the biggest room in that forgotten house
Now you are the light bulb that lets me write about the room i hated
Back to the beginning, back to the start,
And sitting under the moon looking up at the
Stars--Here and now is where I want to be.
Everyday I'm with you is amazing and
Memorable!
Everyday is a gift that I don't take for granted,
No one should and Life's too short
To not live in the moment. <3
Copyright; 2019
McNally/Flanders, Inc.
Title from Fitz and the Tantrums
KM Hanslik Jun 2019
Semi comfortable thing
Orange breast, black wings
She is my mother (I think)
The one who birthed me left a long time-ago
Protracted sunlight through the leaves
Oak, maple, sycamore
All the ones she told me about
And I am home in a basement
Concrete walls, concrete floor.
The air breathes sweat
Throwing damp into my nest

Styrofoam lungs
Starry fractal eyes
I can do anything, she says,
And falls to her knees
Semi-fragile thing
Assured by her head
Knowing better by heart

A window is broken
The house is silent but
She remembers exactly why
Exactly when
Hair chopped off a long time ago
I think my mother is coming home
Keys on the table
Sound of closing doors
Too soft but I can hear her footsteps
I am home in a basement
Concrete walls, concrete home
Conversation is on mute
But I hear everything.
J B Moore May 2019
There's a monster in the basement
In the shadows of the stairs.
There's a monster in the basement
And I'm sure he's covered in hair.

I have never seen him
But he smells like ***** socks.
His breath is just as stinky
And his skin is hard as rocks.

There's a monster in my closet
Behind my toys and all my books.
There's a monster in my closet
Daddy, take a look.

“There’s nothing in your closet,
Take a look for yourself,
Just clothes hanging from a hanger
And some books upon a shelf.”

There’s a monster under my bed
In the darkness behind my shoes
There’s a monster under my bed
I can hear him as he moves.

“There’s nothing there, it’s getting late
Sweet dreams, sleep tight, good night.
You don’t need to be afraid,
I won’t turn out the lights.”

There's a monster here beside me
Turns out he's just scared too
Of thunderstorms and dark, dark rooms
And even me and you.

5/19/19
Scott Apr 2019
Forgotten things whisper
From under basement stairs
Mildewed carpets
Water-damaged cardboard boxes
The smell of spiders
Something buried is at the door
Phi Kenzie Sep 2018
I hid my old bed in the basement
of the last place I lived
sitting with the box spring and frame

It’s a great, full set
I had to let it go
roaming back home
which is nowhere near close
b Aug 2018
it is so still here.
until the planes
fly over heard. they dont
scare me like they did
when i was a boy.

but boy could they
put fear in the heart
of a youngster.
i never thought
id miss cowering
in the basement.

home will
spit me out again,
freshly chewed.
still staring at the buildings
like they might topple right over.

i will make the world love me
if its the last thing i do.
i dont care how
but it will.

i refuse to be the boy
in the basement.
scared of noise.
there is no crown fit
for noise.
it wears victory
like a python around
its neck.

and if noise could
die i would **** the
poison from
noise until it is but
a snake for the garden.
harmless and certainly
nothing
to go cower
in the basement for.
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