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The sun shone above the clouds,
my mind was razor-sharp like shark's teeth,
my hands were shaking like I was cold
at nearly 81 degrees.
The sun shone above the clouds,
my body spasmed, covered in sweat,
my legs trembled as I checked around
searching for any bottles left.
The sun still shone above the clouds
as I showered, drank coffee and left the house
looking for whatever distraction I could find,
ended up drunk at a parking lot.
Vale Luna May 16
Time slithers away
Fed to the infinite void
that is the past
It slinks slowly into the present.
Why do blood and roses
share the same color?
A crimson droplet
A crimson petal
Both fragments of life
One salter that the other

Throw me in a cage
And watch me bite at my tail;
A ravenous dog
ruined by the boredom of captivity
Tick tock
Another droplet
Another sliver of life
It falls into the puddle
Back into the void.
Self harm triggered by boredom.

My heart is
empty again
without you
for you abode
therein my  
heart. Your
voice only,
craves I my
boredom to
cure. You're my happiness,
joy and all
source of
glee. My love
for you is
soft as silk
fresh as lilly,
bright as rose.
It's like
the sunrise
🌅 even when
it sets it
always come
a new everyday
all day.
I'd love you
forever, as
long as  
you love me.
Zywa Apr 15
Another boring day
Everything is what it seems
without fantasies

I'm not like professor T
who makes Jeroen Bosch paint
what is going on:

everything embodied
as what it is and therefore

The city is large, but small
is my view, as if
we live far away from each other

in spaceships, built-up
areas as small as hamlets
where the truth is close

but all the harder
to be seen, to be tested, and to be said
There is no way out

I can't escape
only dream without running
into danger in the outside world
Covid-19 Lockdown

Police series “Professor T” (2015-2018) with Koen de Bouw as Jasper Teerlinck

Collection “BloodTrunk"
The Triple L Apr 14
I thank you, overcast,
Though so many hold you in contempt,
I say to you, dear friend,
Those who are unable to find it within themselves,
To pay you with the respect due,
Shall never find appreciation in our universe.

The glorious sunshine,
The melancholic rain,
The rampaging rage of the vicious storm,
The frost and fear of the seeping, invading ice,
None of them remind me that I am alive as much as you do.

For you remind me that not all is sunshine,
Not all is the chagrin of the rain,
Not all is storm and violence,
Nor is it the freezing embrace of death,
No, the extremities of the seasons, the encompassing grasp of the weather,
None remind me of the trials and tribulations,
The brilliance and horrors,
The humility of life,
The chance,
The pure,
Plausibility of my own existence.

It is you, overcast,
My dearest and most reliable companion.
It is you they shun,
For they describe you as boring,
And I say to you,
As I say to them,
The depiction is wrong.

Not everything is in the extremes portrayed by the weather,
Nay, life is full of boredom,
No one experiences life to its fullest,
And those who think otherwise are fooling themselves.

It is you,
The greyness,
The unmoving,
The boredom,
That reminds me I am alive,
And will continue to live for however long I have left.
I promise you this overcast, I will appreciate you, for you keep me breathing.
Written on a cloudy day.
All I can do is think 'bout you,
And brush my hair but I rather do the first,
Even if I know you won't think of me back,
You never really do;
sara Feb 18
yellow outside
grey from the back of the eye
a tired head holds
a dauntless mind
catching words
I won’t recognize.

This memory fell and
will never climb up;
restless legs on
resting souls.

Back pain hardly
sets fire to the day
of yellow outside
and inside of grey.
xjf Feb 26
I broke myself today
When I realized
I would never get anything done
The battle between stimulus
and systems
was already won

I am a slave to the new
and chained to "To-Do"
Most days I feel as if I'm working against myself, and there's very little trust between me and me
Evie G Feb 25
If you were to ask me what boredom was, I’d tell you were boring and to stop asking stupid questions, but if you really persisted, I would tell you boredom is the tick tock on the white clock on the white wall of our English classroom.
it’s the thrill of seeing how many dried crackers you can cram into your mouth before your mouth becomes a cracked and dried desert. Boredom is
making up haikus,
Alone but not quite knowing,
How many syllables go on each line
Boredom is haikus.
Boredom is
the decapitation of innocent
grass blades as you listen to an unenthused sports teacher
the blood of your unwitting enemies splattered on your fingers.
Boredom is this boring poem

Now you were never one for boredom;
you enjoyed sitting on the grass, getting a soggy ***,
you enjoyed the crunch of crackers snapping on your tongue,
you really enjoyed
and I still do not know why
making up haikus
you enjoyed the long languorous spaces between lines...

and I guess that really was just you.
But recently the silence has been getting short its rudely interrupted
by forced laughs and nervous glances from eyes that recently went shopping

You jump at every crunch or crack, scared of well…
I don’t know .

And your poetry,
Well, you barely write anymore because you just can’t seem to muster up the energy and you’re just tired and its nothing to worry about and it doesn’t matter anyway because you have an English essay due tomorrow yeah-

And the grass misses your ***

And I miss you

And there’s someone in your place, a lethargic parody, too frightened to pick up the phone, frightened by nothing at all
There’s a black hole in the shape of a friend
hidden behind the comets of comedy and asteroids of avoidance there’s a small hole

I reach in… grasping for a hand,
I catch glimpses. tufts of hair. old coffee smiles
but… nothing
so, I try again

I reach in, grasping for a hand, or even a bone
I catch glimpses of skin, hair, teeth, bone. Nothing
and each time I throw myself into the silent abyss,
batter past the comets and asteroids and reach into that dark expanse I find less and less,
I miss you

I am right outside,
whenever you’re ready to,
we can talk a bit

I’m trying my best ,
and I really care for you ,
but haikus are dumb
accept it, it’s true.

The spot of grass is waiting right where you left off,
the crackers in the tin are there just waiting to be scoffed.
if ever in that silence
you feel yourself alone
just know that in my house,
you’ve found yourself a home.
Hey there! so i actually just won my schools poetry competition with THE HARRY BAKER judging so i can now die happy my life is complete oh my god. This is essentially an extended version of a poem i wrote back in November i think, it really takes on a new meaning and (i might be bias here) i think is worth the read ? Anyway, any feedback would be lovely, thanks
Also, willing to debate the validity of haikus because i think they are terrible
Steve Page Feb 19
The day's been seized
with no ransom demand
It's in a windowless basement
and will never see daylight again

The day's been seized
taken from those it loves
with no hope of reunion

The day's been seized
but so far unharmed

The days been seized
and reduced to tears

Like ground hog day.  Everyday.
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