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Creases and lines guide our malleable vessel,
the mind.

Doubts, fears, and anxieties breakdown even the strongest of vessels to the core,
can it take much more?

Drowning in emotion, the exterior begins to erode apart, board by board.
How much more damage can such a small vessel endure?

Lust and greed lead the moaning vessel through the wrong currents and paths,
seemingly like a sociopath on a warpath.

We can only call on one savior in such detrimental times.

The mind.

Love, empathy, kindness, care, happiness, and positivity is the quickest escape, it has no name as it's inside every brain.
Our existence.

The mind.
Jacob Lyons Sep 2020
Staying up late til the light comes back
My mind’s on **** I should’ve kept in the past
I wish my mind and eyes could finally match
My brain feels dark, wish my sight was black
Ken Pepiton Sep 2020
How much can a lizard know, I wonder,
looking out my window at my rock
in the shadow of my house,
always a glance away when
an I am in this position
and aware there is
there, the rock, the still threaded witness,
in granite,

the shaking that shook up all the mountains
shook them all all up
at once

it was a whole planet shaking at once, rung
like abaodingball

abiding in the echoes we can hear with our augmental
ears,
we know whales sing when no one is listening,
as we know the sound of a certain tree
falling
in
a legend, new and old, a sticky thought,
ancient of days, is this lizard brain,
you still work?

WOW, OLD CODE FROMe ericfrome-ish havingbeing
Tomas Auge, reviewexpress weighting algorythm,

it tipped. 13 years, 327 days, 57 minutes 13. nnnnnnnnnnnnn

Any time this happens we yoostasay selah,
now we breathe,
once to be
once to have
once to hold and look around. are we dragging any fool
to madness?
The game is afoot and boredom is pushing all my seldom used stoner buttons to occupy time in an entertain ing ing in way with no ads.
Jay M Sep 2020
This heart is
Beating me to death every day
Leaving me with barely a word to say
Trapped in a tiny cage it shall stay
My mind in one of its own

Sitting in a dark room
Lookin' up into the gloom
Taking a blast
Into memories of the past

I'm addicted
To running
Heart gunning
Out of my mind
To possibly find
Some way out of this
Nightmare I'm walking

Sleep is freedom
And freedom is weighed
Shackles at the exits
A kick in the ***
Get up

Day in and
Day out
It's the same old ****
Take another hit
To the chest
Just to remember
That you're alive

I'm addicted
To running
Heart gunning
Out of my mind
To possibly find
Some way out of this
Nightmare I'm walking

Smacked to the concrete
Down in defeat
Crawling, twitching like a bug

Skull devouring
Never quite full
Information keeps slippin'
Fallin' away
Like all the words I try to say

I'm addicted
To finding another way
Out of this insanity
Oh, what a calamity!

It's not over yet
Book isn't closed
Game still has levels left
Towering over
Undefeated
One player here
Looks like it's me
But the date's from last week

Smacked to the concrete
Down in defeat
Crawlin', twitchin' like a bug

Words are haunting me
Cutting, cutting like a knife
Buzzing around like a bee

I'm addicted
To hiding it all away
What's there to say?
That I made the mistake,
That I ******* it up?
At least I'm not fake,
And can own up to my own ****

I'm addicted to the games that I play
Put on the show
And nobody could know
Well, until you wind up in hell
And pry open like a **** clam

Words pouring like drops of rain
Telling tales of my love and my pain
There's nothing to gain
But maybe relief of release
From my brain to the page
The page to the screen.

- Jay M
September 10th, 2020
Read the last stanza, first 2 lines. I guess that's what this is? Dunno.

*I listened to "Not That Beautiful" by Papa Roach as I wrote this.
Aashi Sinha Sep 2020
breathing quickening, pillow over the head, eyes open, brain dead

alive yet dead

black wings, pretty eyes, thick thighs, wide cheeky smiles, can chuck out people's lungs for soft words in return

hardened, dark, dusty, wrapped in shiny black clothes with secrets, scars and threads

brain so colourful will get colourblind soon

hands catching gentle water kisses, losers they are
failing to gravity, failing
put the feet on the floor, forgot to tell--****
gravity they call


hot, hot, cold, cold, cold, cold

volcanic, explosive, misguided conversations, orange fingertips, blue knuckles, purple lips, green heart and round hips
Thomas W Case Sep 2020
The creative mind
never truly sleeps;
it naps 45 minutes
at a time.
Even, that which
appears to be
sleep, is a fitful
state of poetic creativity.
The brain is like
a patchwork quilt
that uses the scraps of
the day's events,
trying to fit symbols
together, like a
jigsaw puzzle.
Here's another one
from the vast
analog of the brain.
My philosophy on why my brain won't let me rest.
Safana Sep 2020
Even,
in the
darkness of a
rayless night,
a blind with visual
light in his brain
can see everything
ahead of him
Knowledge is a light
Jaxey Sep 2020
writing is easy
when your heart is in the lead
your mind in the back
of itself
i guess
but as soon
as something happens
worth writing
my brain says
i told you so
crosses the line
my heart left
in the back this time
locked away
bleeding
along with
the pen
as i run
out
of
ink
Anamarija Aug 2020
God
My brain is a ripe watermelon
under the hot sun
Ready to be eaten by the God of knowledge
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