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Gracie Sep 2020
Alterations in perception
Leads to involuntary self-deception
Is this a dream
Is this reality
What if I am really dead
My sanity's hanging by a thread
I miss having clarity
Being able to differentiate
Am I lucid
Or delusive
I miss being able to truly say
I had a good day
At this point I'm not sure what I know to be true
I just know that I'm tired of trying to push through
And if anybody can hear me
Please help me understand
I'm lonely and scared
Can someone please
just hold my hand?
Only way I can describe my derealization
Poetic T May 2020
Find a penny pick it up,
       With this coin
I ran out of luck...

Bent down just as car drove past
            clipped me and
                           now I'm


Took a while but I'm back on
                                        my feet..

what are the chances a four leaf
   clover and a horse shoe neat..

No... the horse shoe was still
connected to the feet...

I shouted four as flew through
         the air....

then it licked my face before that
               shoe stood on my piece..

I'm out the hospital, and I saw a
           ladder, na I'm not having that.
On the outside,  but I never say the
                                           black cat..

I came to, and she was there,
             are you an angel..
        No love, You've just been served.

My luck is less my future short,
              but ill carry on as how
can it get worse, is that thunder
                               I can hear??
Martin Narrod Jan 2018

we make death
we eat breadths
lay in beds
bray and fret

we make death
sticks which twitch up the legs
passing through like a wish
it’s an inside your one-two tease
i stare at your shell
i want to ring your bell
just plant your hell on me
give yourself what you need
please baby please
give yourself what you need

we make death
we acquiesce
feint of logic
till quite obnoxious
eat flesh in keys quixotic
lubricious sycophant rhapsodic
betterdays Aug 2014
it's past midnight
and my thoughts is just
fuzz, lintballs and
cotton candy
rolling around like
tumble weeds
across a vast and barren plain
that purports to  a working
i am so very far beyond
myself that i am forgetting
who i am....why...

it is grant writing season
and i have used my quota
of words ...

so just visualize
something wonderful,
off to the west over there..
while i sleep over under
this tree here....
and if i am quiet enough, maybe i will come back,
to me.

then the carniva,
will begin again
sonetimes real life is
such a grind...
thiswas me last night, writing
add one more day of writing
academic and theatrical jargon.... and see me sitting
slack jawed in the corner...
just don't poke me...truly
i might bite..or just begin to drool...

— The End —