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Ahmad Attr Apr 24
Such a windy eve
The dark clouds are covering my porcelain sky
I’ll be leaving tomorrow’s morning
Are the gathering to cry?
My head is muddled and I am frightened
I am restless as it is all too sudden
I’ll be leaving my home, my town soon
With heavy heart, I amble on my balcony
Suddenly, there is gleam
From the distance crevice of heaven
It seems the sun isn’t ready to sleep
The gold feasts at the tips of the smoky clouds
In the cracks of my sky, honey pours all over it

Such a windy eve
I spread my hands open
The cool gust passes through the gaps of my fingers
I can feel it, the farewells
As though I am the heart of this town
Taking in all the essence
I can hear it, every little thumping heart
Every bird, every child
This town, never asleep, never silent
Tomorrow I’ll just be a memory
So Why not a happy one
I look forward to the life calling me
My star will always light the sky, wherever I’ll be
Graff1980 Nov 2020
It’s been years
since I lived on the road,
a gas station *****
searching for something
delicious and caffeinated,
to get me to the next place
I was scheduled to work in,
or be a last-minute replacement.

Spending a lot of time
with vending machines,
and gas station attendants,
making jokes and wishing
to do a little more sleeping,
and a lot less driving.

I was just surviving,
check to check,
barely one step
from being so broke
that I couldn’t even make it
to the hotel where I was staying.

Complimentary breakfasts,
per diem late evening
hamburger breaks,
adding to the weight
of my already exploding gut.

It wasn’t much,
but enough
to get me here,
to a steady job
and regular sleep schedule.
Nathan MacKrith Feb 2020
The room is pale in light
Quivering as dawn after night
Prickles run down my cold bare skin
Turn to throbs when she walks in

She is the most beautiful woman
I have ever seen and I can
feel my heart beat like hummingbird
wings as her lips sing I grasp every word

“You are too young to worry about chest pain,
take care of your heart and I’ll see you again
in seven months, you carry so much weight
Lose some of that and you’d feel great”

Her expert hands are strong yet soft
Like dove down on my chest as I cough
“Keep positive and love will find you
Go out even if you don’t want to.”

She leaves me to dress myself
Pick my coverings off the shelf
The room is as blinding bright
As when night gives way to daylight.
Graff1980 Apr 2019
Tis a fear,
elegantly etched
in the sketch
played in
my dreams,

chaotic scene
that came
to unlock
the hidden.

At first it was
slightly amusing
an old time
tv crush of mine
Samantha from Bewitch
who with a twitch
of her cute nose
could cast a spell.

But then it shifted
as I tucked a sheet in
an old brown couch
with my dearly departed grandma.

***** trick to play you see,
I awoke mournfully,
aching with the memory
of a loss that happened
less than six years ago,

whilst fearing
losses nearing
and yet to come.
Gray Nov 2018
it’s been three years
i started preschool

six years
first grade here i come
(first best friend too...)

seven years
first new home

eight years
first kiss
(didn’t say no)

nine years
i hurt you more
(i’m sorry)

ten years
everyone’s a stranger
(why do they hate me?)

twelve years
it’s getting worse

thirteen years
why do i hate myself?

fourteen years
i don’t think i trust them

fifteen years
feels like a mistake
significant things over the years
Jonathan Surname Aug 2018
Sick sweetness taking beatings, and still shoulders rumble.
Meek teeth passed lips, and words so soft to avoid being trouble.
You can't help but be who you are, and were modeled.
A clay beauty, ****** through air, for those hunters and shot all.

To pieces, my missus, you must lift and stand and shake.
The rest of the day, and must portray, tween dawn and dusk at best.
You're a profound expression, eureka not lessened, and you heave to and fro.

The ocean ebbs, and sadness flow, inundated even at rest.
But chin does bob, and body does buoy, as you float and kick feet in dark mess.
Above all water, you pretend not the bother, and laugh smile with all feigned jest.
written for a friend in hopes of showing her the abuse around her
Graff1980 Jul 2018
He’s been on the road
coming home
Arizona flagstaff
wearing his
jury rigged knapsack
with plastic
and cloth bags
strapped together
by an orange cord.

Sixty something,
tan skinned,
and missing teeth,
I find him
on the off ramp
as I head out
to work.

Sign says Springfield
but he is trying to
get back to
I almost pass him by,
but I remember
a younger guy,
the good man
I used to be.
He asks me to be
kind again.

I tell him
I’ll drop him
halfway there,
but he offers
a traveler’s perspective
and excellent conversation
so, I take him as far as I am going.

We roll in
just in time
for him to miss
the storm coming,
and part with
a handshake
and goodwill,
I forgot how good
that feels.
Valerie Mar 2018
you awaken galaxies in me
within the first conversation,
and we're fluorescent in this
cold grey world we're born in

coffee on the roof of your mouth,
your eyes wide and kaleidoscopic,
my dress is suffocating me by my waist,
and yet i'm still dancing to every beat with you

but then we fell apart in your usual way-
we didn't crash or burn, we just ran out
but i still see your face in every single crowd
because you're forever stitched on my sleeves

we didn't go down in a spectacular explosion,
it was more of a worn out melody tuning down,
and it's funny how i think about the past now
because back then i used to think my future was you.
just some thoughts
Graff1980 Oct 2017
The winter falls as fast as hailstones. White wonderlands crossing every horizon, except from my bedroom window. Then she comes, in a fearful mood, mitigated by what, I am uncertain. Maybe I did something, maybe I did nothing. As a child I am almost certain it is my fault.

            A hand crashes forcefully against my face. Then again and again as I am restrained by the collar of my shirt. I can hear it stretching to its limits and tearing. I can hear this because I have stopped listening to her. Which makes her even angrier.

            I disappear. Why bother existing at all? There is a dull sensation of pain, but it is nothing. When she is done I come back. This is how I remember it. Although, I am certain this is wrong. I am just covering up the horrible stuff with some form of acrobatic escapism.

            When the fury ends and she is physically and emotionally spent, I am sent to my room. It is a safe prison, a place where I cannot confess my shame and hers to anyone. She is safe from the prying eyes of DCFs and I am safe from her.

            Ten to thirty feet away from window I watch the world go on without me. There is a painful longing. My neighbors enjoy the day unsullied by my darkness. I wonder how bad I must be. I cry and wish to die. This is a fact unclouded by time or wishful thinking.

            I read the bible. I sneak a real book and read it. The book is wedged between my bed and the wall. I conceal half of it in the covers as I read the other half, adjusting it carefully and as quietly as possible. When I can’t read I sleep. I sleep so much that I get tired, then I sleep some more. I work as far ahead in my assignments as I can. Thank goodness the teacher is predictable.

            I think, I breathe, I live, but it feels like death. When my sentence is over I am free for a week or so. Then she is angry again. Whatever, back into my cell as I watch the world change. Winter is in its full bloom. Sometimes, I **** in a cup because I am only allowed a certain amount of bathroom visits.

I sit. I think. I sleep. I dream.

I am not even safe in my own dreams. In every dream I am pursued. A monster in space, Freddy Krueger, or just her. I run but spikes start sprouting from the ground, and every step sends spasms of sharp pain through my feet. I can fly but only so far and so high. Electric wires act like rubber bands and sling me painfully back to the spike filled earth. There is no freedom.

            I am out for a day. Then back in again. Sad songs repeat themselves on my cassette player. This only perpetuates and deepens my agony. The children laugh and play slinging snowballs dangerously fast at each other’s face. Why am I the freak? Why can’t I be free?

            The violence subsides. Now there are only harsh, well extremely harsh words, hundreds of sentences to writes, and longer confinements. I come and go so fast that it feels like I spend more time in my room then I have ever spent anywhere else.

            Summer comes, and thank goodness she has to work. I have some free time. However, summer passes and the spring brings with it the same dullness. Now, I am back to winter. My life has become a sad echo. The kids can see that I am weak. Of course I am weak. I must be weak, because I can’t handle what must be normal.

            The snow comes, so deep, white, pure, and humbling. I watch it for days.  No one goes outside. My room becomes a strange universe with me at the center spinning but never moving. I never leave this room, except for meals and the occasional ****. There is something building up inside. I open the window. Then I slam it just as quickly. I open it again feeling the full frosty force of Mother Nature. What a glorious breeze. I shiver with pleasure and with the coldness of it all.

            In the past I have tried to **** myself, but I can’t seem to die. God won’t let me go, and neither will she. So, the window comes open again. I am overcome with another impulse. With no shirt or shoes I jump out the window. It is only a two foot drop. My feet bury themselves in the cold snow. I run around as long as I can stand it, till my feet ache with the pain of cold, then pull myself back in.

            The next day I do it again. I run about a block or so and return. It feels amazing. My mind can barely take in the magnificence of it all. I hope that winter will last forever. The pain and pleasure of it all excites me. My feet go from warm to frosted then I focus on the sensation of them warming up again slowly. It is like they go from alive to dead then come back alive again.

            There it is. The grand pleasure of a small release. No fairytales or dragons. I come and go as I please. No one is outside but me. Me reveling in the cold; me dancing like a madman. I do not get sick. The beast never catches me. She is defied without pain. My dreams don’t change. The world doesn’t get that much better.

            Then when the snow fades and children, come back out to play I am trapped again.But, but this minor pleasure remains. For a bit I came and went as I pleased, free to freeze or not.
Zero Nine May 2017
I can't find my wallet.
I can't find my passport.
It's a problem because
my driver's license expired.
Need the passport for ****.
Need it to cash the paycheck.
At *-Mart, because I
don't have a bank. US, Chase,
Wells Fargo. I owe from the past.
But if I don't get to the CDC,
or Nectar to get the ****,
I won't function my best.
I'll be without mental rest.
At 800 a month, it's my only
and the most expensive hobby.
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