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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.
Midnight Apr 2018
chilled
to the bone
with the
good kind
from your
finger tips
their touch
on my
thighs
how they
grip tighter
and leave
marks
on my
skin
I live for that
afteryourimbaud Mar 2018
Put a mirror
in between us
and you might
not see yourself at all.
fika Mar 2018
you left me there
between foreign moons
and unknown stars
mel Mar 2018
in the space between
any given stimulus
and your response
lies the power to choose
which vibrational route
your destiny pursues
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
I place myself in the center of room
as you panic to pack up your stuff,
being careful that nothing is left behind.
There are flowers growing in the corners of the room
that ask you to stay.
There are green skies
that we painted.
There are flaws your and mine
that decorate this wall.
There are TV channels
that we can surf through,
there are days to be wasted.
And I want to waste them with you.



I want you to stay.
I almost blurt it out.
But had it not been for these flowers and skies
and days written in color of your name,
I could have left
to find the dreams I never had.
There is a chandelier
of blood red glass
of your sighs and goodbyes.
I know you are not running away from me
but from our devils,
from our destruction,
that lay between us
every night.
Eleanor Rigby Feb 2018
He thinks he knows me
Like a book he reads.

But God, must I feel
For the metaphors,
The magic, the depth
And the world between the lines
Left unseen...


-- Eleanor
julianna Feb 2018
I cannot read between the lines
You own them,
For they are not mine
To twist and turn and compromise
So tell me, do you think it's wise
To make me read between the lines?
Andrew Ewen Feb 2018
The mind is the greatest obstacle that stands between us and happiness.
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