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Q May 25
Different Place Different Time
Same script, Same lines
Lonely souls and one alone
Bound in Breadth, but not in depth
Similar in Vein but not in kind
but Similar enough in my mind
The math says I'm bound to find others
Others who resonate and hear my frequency
"It's a numbers game"
I tell myself-
Over and over until I go under.
There must be others
Erased by the system and from Existence;
the cracks multiply and leaks grow
until their tsunami is contained in teacup.
But what if outliers are still syncratic
Why do I leak aporia over and over again?
Q May 25
“I'll find them"
I say as I come across another corpse
The blood leaking out of the open wounds inflicted upon them.
Turning their intellect into a poison
that eats them inside out.  
They're gone now (blanched from existence),
I look around
And see the bones on which
My “exceptionalism” stands.
Unnoticed by most
but I sense their ghosts in the spaces that should be filled.  
The same system that killed my kin,
demands I cannibalize them
to sell me as a relic - a reminder of what was
But I never forget - or forgive - a murderer.
(Part Two - Bones of Ghosts)
lilli May 22
I want to rip my skin clean off
Rip my flesh off
Show off my carcass and shout to the world
"See me! See me ****** and broken
See my nervous system flail below me
and love me anyway!"
I feel no connection to the flesh
I feel little hesitation digging my fingernails into it
The pain, however, gives me pause
It resets my mind, unforgiving and real, informing me
"It isn't over
you do not need to mangle yourself
to be known
to be loved"
I am a mosaic of everything
Everyone I have loved
Everything I have loved
I fall apart easy
I make myself into art easier
When I am raw, would someone notice?
Would someone spare me more than a passing glance?
Would they want to turn away?
Would my bones give more pause than my flesh?
See me
See my hurt
Feel my hurt
Know it
Know me
Know who I am
Know what I love
Or at least don't leave
Just listen
Or pretend to
Or don't
I don't mind
Stay
Stay sometimes
Stay every once in a while
Every blue moon
Step into my blood and drink for a while
Take my carcass
Take my flesh
Take my blood
Take my breath
Take my love
Just don't take yourself away from me
I am not scary
My desperation does not make me fearsome
I am not awful
I am not horrid
I am me
I am
I am
I am
I am
Who am I?
Am I the girl who breathes?
The person who sleeps?
The man who writes endlessly?
The woman crying in a cafe somewhere?
The stray cat during a rainstorm?
The teenager at a payphone?
The teenager staring at the world?
A man looks at his wife on the beach
He says to her
"Look at the world
no, really, look.
I know I see,
but what do you see?
She smiles at him
Tucks her sweaty hair behind her ear
and speaks in music
"I see hope
and I see pain
I see more
and I see again"
He doesn't understand what that means
Maybe she doesn't, either
but he sees the stars in her eyes
and feels what he does not know
"I see you
when you look of at the horizon
I think I see you more in those moments
than I ever do otherwise.
What do you dream of?
When you stare like that?"
She hums like starlight
Ponders like a calm, wondering shore
"I dream of my flesh," She begins sweetly
"Of what the dirt will see
when I am beneath it.
That will be the only time
I will be unable to know myself."
He doesn't understand what that means either
but his heart does
She does
Her rawness does
Her bones do
They smile together at him, one in his love
He smiles back, unflinching
Drinking her in
Never looking away
dual pov moment I had fun with this one
Kritika May 19
I ravage myself in hopes,
but purity was all u needed.
Crinkled bedsheets,
White snow turned red and purple,
Is this your kind of pretty?

My love is such a wretched thing,
To keep within and about.
I spoon it to your lips,
And yet you spit it out.

I built a castle from scattered bones,
Laced it with echoes of your name.
Yet every wish turns out to be ash,
And every ember dies the same.
Dan R May 10
I have always love
the flame that you make—
a warmth that hums against my skin,

soft as whispered smoke,
kind enough
to forget it could burn.

The same kind you wield
around so desperately
toward those frozen far too long to thaw.

They were already
too deep in cold to ever feel
the love you were told

was not enough—by the people
who wore the skin of
the new generations of love.

I wanted to touch you,
but I cannot let you light so long.
not before—you turn into ashes.  

I wanted to light my own bones
and radiate the same kindness
you burn so bright

and glow the same
pinkish red of love
too tender for everyone else but you.
Maybe if I had looked for you,
Thought this through,
You´d have come by,
I´d have caught your eye,
You´d come around-
Finally we´d be bound:
A heap of cold bones,
You´d find headstones,
My flesh so long rotten,
Just like always, forgotten.
27/4/25
Dan R Apr 17
I see your bare collar bone.
The chassis of you.
Your shoulders stiff
from lifting too long.
Your ribs—tight—
holding in breath
to call out life.

I'm going to take you home.
It’s okay. No one will see.
We’ll hide it with a necktie,
drape it in my sleeves.
I’ll walk you there
with my ****** ache
and shoes worn thin
from leaving places too fast.

We should hurry.
My wrists are tired.
They shake from the inside.
My marrow is dusted with fear.
Osteoporosis, they said—
but it’s just a word
for how I’ve been crumbling
before anyone noticed.

I wanted to carry you.
But my bones—
they fold under me.
I have enough ache
just holding myself.
Still,
I want to take you home.
I will strip myself bare
beneath the sun if I must,
but I cannot let you
see my bones.
Sometimes, it's best to not let your love see your bones.
Debbie Apr 15
Stories nestled in my bones
are not silent storms.
My heart is haunted
by their primordial groans.
Yet so many scattered thoughts
go unknown.
Like the frantic way
autumn leaves are blown.
What decays becomes wisdom
for another day.
Skeletal stories now, the flesh of us
is gone.
Even though we loved from the core
of our jagged bones.
Human life seems just an agonized attempt
to be heard.
Lynn Mar 14
I built this house
Of glass with stone
I watch you break it with my bones
You ran a blitzkrieg on my heart,
Invading like the Mongol's carte,
Menu of skulls and bones.

After your attack,
You settled down,
Sweeping up the bruise and blood.

Then you just left,
What? I thought you wanted this nation?
I guess not.
An old poem with some new lines inspired by history class.
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