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The Queen Jul 2018
Which one is better to choose? Infinity light or infinity dark? Both of them are alone. Because they so  deep. They can't see anything around them. Either way I'm gonna be alone. because if I can't see them that means they can't see me either.
EK Jun 2018
I tiptoe on definitions,
trusting that
eloquence and versed language
might be enough.

Underneath the sky, love is a language.

No one is fluent,
but words become my way.

It takes time,
and I might stumble.
But love,
listen.

Between lines, I am true.

I am full of intricate detail
that makes no sense
unless you
listen.

-E.K.
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Never aim too high
Never aim too low
Betwixt and between
Lies beautiful poetry

For the heat of the sun melts
The salt of the sea corrodes
Betwixt and between
The stories unfold

The souls combust
The spirits submerge
Betwixt and between
Our words emerge
Poetic T Jun 2018
Always better to smile than a frown,
                   for smiles mean happiness
                has greeted your thoughts.

And that life isn't always **** ,
             that there is always some gold lining
in those grey clouds hanging around.
Semicolon May 2018
Somewhere between
Our stolen glimpses,
Our avoided phone calls,
Our empty inboxes,
Our overflowing diaries,
Our false excuses,
Our truthful lies,
Our passionless conversations,
Our emotional poems,
Our unkept promises,
Our treasured secrets,
Somewhere between us,
We lost each other,
And found ourselves.
One day, you'll realise that all the pain made sense. It was here not to break you, but to make you.
Don't lose faith in love. Find yourself, and fall in love.
Poetic T May 2018
Chronology decaying within
                    the humour of passing
                                            shadows.

For­ everything that's birthed
                    laughers at the finality
                                            of death.

But is sullen when they hang
                       between both existences.
PS May 2018
He texts me.
It’s impersonal.
What was I expecting it to be?
There’s no real connection except that of a single flame in the altogether too dark caves- or cavres- of our hearts.
I almost backspace it all.

He texts me.
He tells me I’m cute.
Cute is a compliment that’s too easy.
There is nothing in cuteness except that of a noncommittal compliment but it’s meant to make my cheeks blush.
It doesn’t. Nothing does.

He texts me.
It’s nothing at all.
We aren’t saying a thing.
There’s nothing worth saying when you’re talking in circles with a man who can’t understand that you’re more than a surface you show to the world.  
So I say nothing. He says nothing.

He texts me.
We say goodnight.
What was I expecting to feel?
There is nothing in these feelings except that which reminds me of you and I hate that that’s all it is.
So I sit down and think.

And I write you a message.
Every line I want to tell you, everything everything everything that makes me sad that you’re gone.
Everything everything everything that makes me well up in tears- in emotions I thought I was finished feeling.
So I sit down and I write and I write all of everything down.

And I backspace it all.
Maybe it’s all better left unsaid.
mysa May 2018
i complain about the wall between us
but i am the one who built it
Julian Delia Apr 2018
Why?
Why does the homeless man starve?
Why am I stuck, hungry and alone
In this niche I’m trying to carve?

Why?
Why does the world avoid acknowledging reason?
Why is the thinker ostracised,
Nay, persecuted, like a rebel hung for treason?

Why?
Why does the neurotic partner abuse the other?
Why do we lose our ****
And become violent like a wife-beating, drunken father?

Why?
Why do we poison ourselves?
Why do we smoke, snort, shoot up and drink?
Why do we abuse our temple,
Like a supernova’s collapse, on the brink
Of wiping out us
And everything around us.

If I had to answer
All of these burning questions
I could do so with one stroke,
No concessions;
We are purposeless and disconnected.
We are infected,
A sickness that eats one on the inside
Like an ingestion of bisulphide –
This sickness I speak of
Is a sickness of the mind and the heart;
It is the reason for dying art
The reason everything feels
Like we’re on our way to hell on an express cart.

This greed, this marauder of souls
Swallowing us all, we become
Sentient, wandering, black holes
Destined
To consume everything.
Trying to fill up the void
The one on the inside,
The one that has destroyed
Our sense of communal love.

This anxiety, this harbinger of malevolence
Even in benevolence
It finds a way to ruin things.
It can befall even the greatest of all,
No one is immune, not even kings.
Anxiety
Is the culmination of our fears
It is a beast that will leave you in tears
It is rooted
In our fear of the unknown
This terror
Of setting out, alone.

Alone, we are afraid.
Greed
Is easier to fulfil
It is far easier
To harbour ill will
To shoot and ****
To hunt down, to chase the thrill
Of feeling superior.

Together?
Together,
Our planet, our lives,
Everything can be better.
Well, am I wrong?
Bryce Apr 2018
My gaze guides pink and blue of quiet calculator
Searching for the LCD
Hidden behind a pointless screen
As the outside pours itself upon me

It really tickles the soul,
The unbounding energy
I twist and shout as my skin furls
Curls with the waves of R.L-itty biting Goosebumps

Yet I can see between the trees of an old office park
The burned remains of waxy candle-like light
scattered across the rainy windowpanes
that fell around me in an amniotic metal box
I filled with an unopened lung

And behind the neon light she danced pretty as a queen
A silhouette, a silent dream
And I saw her in the drops of heaven,
In the rains of light,
And in the fuzzy deep inside
that echoed the hearty rumble of an engine
And carried me through wet asphalt
Of an unending night

Until I found a bridle

To bewitch she would let me ride

Yet in knowing ways she would dissatisfy,
Show the glaring between her eyes,
Tell me all the things between the sky
The she felt kept us from touching

No amount of metal screen
Or electronic ideation
Will fix the willful sublimation
of our shackled spirits
To realms out of reach

With human aye I fill my gaseous pouch
with the leathery sickly burning draught
of aromatic spinning gin and tonic
The threw my head over the bar
And out the door, into oiled alley,
Where She and I met lips there
Where we both smelled of reek
And Where weak minds tortured like glass
stained with the memories of fine wine

And a sense of overpowering divine

When we paired and parted,
Left for spheres
And both sought some different way out of..
here.
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