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The laces of his work boots had slowly
Come undone,

After a long and exhausting life-
They finally released.

Lanky strings hung over the sides of
Pale leather with
Purplish scars,
From cement.

There was blood on the sidewalk.

He took off his boots that night
And placed them in the back of his closet

Next to the skeleton of an older pair.
I dreamt of a dream last night.
It crinkled my nose and shattered my bones.

shivering, looking for you.

Terrified, I grab the phone that looks like a hero to me.

I dial your number so fast I could feel my fingers shaking.

And when you answered,
with your tired, low, raspy, voice,

I knew I had to open my heart a bit more
for you.
I will probably elaborate in this poem later on...
i think i'm doing fine but my friends think otherwise
i only called you once yesterday
and thrice today but that was only because i had to make sure you were still there
because last time i had called the phone cut out cause you went through a tunnel

my friends say i need to open my eyes but aquarians are dreamy types and i broke my glasses so what difference does it make if i’m sleeping anyways?
i'm 20 years old and that's not a lot
boys think i'm cute
but they think my friend is hot
cause she ******* is

i keep getting high and redownloading tinder
when i'm home alone in my living room
with the office on repeat and my cats
attacking my feet

meanwhile i'm getting annoyed because i'm just trying to eat
and everyone keeps telling me i need some thicker meat
on my bones
and telling me i should watch my texts
and to call if it involves **** or ***

my best friends are sleeping together
i wish i could make this thing between us better
but you kind of **** dude
and i’m sorry but i don’t think i can talk to you
without being rude so..
i guess i don’t really wish to change things after all
I Look at the time 1 am awake again so much
pain seems to be
getting worse, no chance
of going back to sleep
not now, wide awake there's no point going
to my Doctor already
been told only get worse he said, I'd probably end
up In a wheelchair must admit starting very much to look that way, laid here
thinking of all the other
people out there suffering
the same, winter's here now not much to look forward too, but cold and more pain, Oh how I long for the summer to return to warm my bones and take my pain
Cold gets In my bones Osteoarthritis getting worse now winters here Oh how I long for the return of the sun to warm my bones and take away my pain
On four wheels
and on my knees.
Warm colorful tones
and cracking bones.
Up in the sky
and down to ****.
A trip I take everyday,
to feel well.
Foggy windows,
foggy minds
creating beautiful times.
Pulling the string
that makes me do thing
which would make an angle
loose her wings.
She would forget to fly
and then peacefully die.
Devin Ortiz Dec 4
In ritualistic insanity, the amnesiac begins to wail.
He hears the symphonic tune of damnation.
A wicked chord struck on a lyre of bones.
As tears flow, the pain sharpens, his fingers split, adding thick crimson curdles to death's hymn.
The weight is bore, lightless eyes follow the ache of mortal fatigue.
This sad creature screams his terror, as he remember his ode.
Played from his own marrow, from his own calcified soul.
darkness seeps into my deepest bones
shadows drown the light within my eyes
sorrow falls like rain over my hollow body
snowflakes whisper secrets of my sleeping soul

what have I become, where have I gone
wilting flowers floating in the river
where my dreams were wont to swim
but I can't feel them as they brush against
my cold fingers

time is frozen as I sink below the waves
empty hands release me, I am not afraid
something comes to claim me as I slip away
the deep is now my home, my body here to stay
David Hutton Nov 29
They share hollow thoughts, they're just clones,
Harbouring a plague of bloodthirsty tones.
Violation begins,
Spreading their deadly sins.
Motivated by the cries and moans.
SangAndTranen Nov 21
Today upon these very fields
Meadows of green and flowers yield
As breeze stops dead and from the leaves
Comes a young girl in khaki green.
Her dress is light, and her song is sweet
As she picks her way on dainty feet.

But she is not the first to trek
Through fresh-scented woods with curling breath
In khaki green amidst the sea
Of indigo and white and brightest green.

For as she scrabbles amongst dirt and stone
She finds in her hand to be a bone.
Unknowing of the man that shed it like
A moulting woodlark born for flight.

Unknowing too is she of the dew
That clings to blades of grass as slew
Were brothers of flesh and blood and heart.
What once was clouded red is glass.

She rises as the night descends,
Skips home with grubby hands and dress
But she is the only one in khaki green
Whom after those woods was ever seen.

The forest left to whistle and sway
Waits for the girl tomorrow-day
When she will escape its clutches once more
Dancing on the graves of twenty-four.
A very belated Remembrance Day poem.
Talis Ren Nov 16
Tear all of these walls down
Make a home of bones
Better to lay with the dead
Than stay out in the cold
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