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Maya Duran Sep 10
ii.
You are in the living room at dusk
Haphazard towers of moving boxes rise around you
The furniture has been dismantled and
You divert your gaze to the underwhelming formation
Of cardboard and tape
As your mother screams and throws the cat across the room

In retrospect, it reminds you of an album cover
For some emo basement band
A collage of childhood in hues of brown
Or a glimpse of red flannel
Cardboard castles, a little boy
Holding a paper sword
Taken on a disposable camera in 2004
And reappropriated for it’s nostalgia in 2014

The boy you caught is not amongst your rescue party
You veil your disappointment poorly as you climb into the passenger seat
And it filters through the holes in the cloth like grey light
You blame the fatigue on your mother alone
Though it isn’t entirely her own
"Cavetown wrote a song about your ex and we played it all summer long" pt 2. I remember wet grass and pavement, chainlink fence and the high school running track that was a few blocks down, but I cannot for the life of me remember what the the front yard of that house looked like. All I can picture is a curb and the street I grew up on in the deeper East side.
Loser Apr 12
Staring at the walls in my bleak and empty room,
hoping I'll lose my pessimism soon
I'm playing records on repeat
and never catching up on sleep,
and I'm over it. I'm over you

I cross my fingers when I smile and tell you that I'm doing fine
and I'm not trying to hurt you. It's just a hopeless ******* lie.
I'm writing letters to myself,
I'm writing letters to you,
and I think I'm starting to get better.

I saw you in my thoughts today,
from a world away,
and when you passed me by,
you couldn't look me in the eye.

I kept your picture in my pocket, so close yet out of sight,
and now you've left me here in pieces, I swear that I'm all right,
And the promise that you made me when we jumped into the lake,
I hope we'll get there some day.

Your friends become acquaintances,
and then they just pass by,
so lets face the new with courage,
and let the old ways die.
I wrote this a while ago. its cheesy and kinda emo. idk.
Elissa Deauvall Nov 2018
I want to build
a cardboard castle with you
It won’t last long
but neither will we
Vexren4000 Jul 2018
Cardboard figurines,
Walking through life,
Following the leader,
Monkey see monkey do,
Following the flow,
Never resisting the control,
Manipulated by multiple hands,
With dark intentions,
Those poor figurines,
Think they make their own choices.

©BAS
دema Jul 2018
I held scissors between my hands yesterday's night,
I cut a heart out of cardboard,
gave it a shower,
tucked it to bed,
sang to it a couple beats
and buried it in my chest.
Vexren4000 Aug 2017
Box
The boxes and boxed product,
Shipment and automation,
factory floors, Warehouse pallets,
Of products for this modern world,
Shipped through veins of mail and airplanes,
The heart of our society,
Now the simple cardboard box.

©BAS
Naomi Hurley Jul 2017
I live
In a cardboard cutout house
Our plates and silverware
Are plastic
The food adorning them
Plastic as well
Glossy and vibrant
But poisonous if consumed

No water will pour
From the sink or tub
If you try to turn
The handle

The plants are fake
The dog is fake
The microwave won't turn on
The floor looks wooden
                           (which may be the case)
For there is no carpet
                           in sight
No decor to behold

I try to pull back
The sheets on the bed
Only to find
That they're entwined--
Attached to the mattress
That feels more like
Pottery
I lean down to see
                           "Made in China"
Etched on the side
Of the frame

My footsteps echo
Down the hall
On the wooden floor
Of the cardboard cutout house
Until I finally see
Something living
Something real

Until I get close.

Her skin is matte
Her eyes are dull
Her teeth are chalk white
Her hair (maybe made from silk?)
                           sits perfectly in place
She is positioned with a smile--
                           Her vinyl arm bent at the elbow
                           Masquerading a friendly wave

She is merely a sculpture
                           A doll of a human being
Filled with wax instead of tissue
Factory made, not a product of Love(TM)

I escape
Away from the figurine Mother
The clay bed
Hard floors
Prop kitchenware and
Plastic food

Because a cardboard cutout house
                           is not a home.
It's okay Grandpa, i'm not mad at your dispersement
I know it was a fact of life
Something very hard to get over
But we're human, that's only to be expected
But it felt like a part of my morale's army defected
You left me in emotional stitches
But i know you didn't mean anything by it
I'm just angry i didn't get more time with you before you were gone
That's something i'll always have to live with
And it's unfair, but i'm a strong man
Maybe not as strong as you yet
Maybe never-but i'm going to try like hell
You're everything i want to emulate
But when things crumble, i wish you were here to help
I know an answer will come, but it must be drawn in the cardboard
Or in the sky
Or on something nobody notices
But i just want to know when
After all you've done, you deserve all the free time
I'll just wait patiently for you to answer
The elongated time frame won't worsen my mood
Just you not being here will.
I write a lot about my grandfather because i felt like he never got the credit he deserved in his lifetime. It's a **** shame. But i'm trying to make it up to him, even though he isn't here to see it. He's seeing it up there.
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