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Ryan Seth Cole Apr 2017
Breathing maliciously, I procure exponentially. My defeat is all but a matter of time.

I slip down that slippery hole that  enters or rather exits into my mind.

I eventually stare from the side lines. Potentially no more option, Left with blind eyes.

I wander from room to room unmasking every sin and every lie.

Until the rooms are empty, I transpond images. I assure you there is no silver line.

What a chilling cauldron it becomes beneath all that I find.

The destruction lay wait to repair with so little time.

If I donot hurry there will be nothing left to salvage. I will be stuck here for all of time.

I cannot emphasize the importance enough that I must leave at the sound of the right sign.

Further below and further behind. I have been bound to this bed with a hope that I will hear a sign.

The time has come I hear drug out beep and see a flashing light.
The battle is won, now to begin a new life.
saranade Oct 2016
A year has passed since I crashed my motorcycle.
The road rash had since been cast away.
The fast paced life was smashed together.
A singular bash that cached my memory.
Lights flash and whiplash has new meaning.
This thrash blinked my eyelash three days later.
Dreary forecast laid flabbergasted.
Hit-and-run
Carolyne McNabb Sep 2016
Everyone watched as you slipped into a coma.
Quietly, subtley, your mind exited the room of
white walls, white sheets, white everything.
Why are hospitals always white inside?
It makes me jealous more than anything.

We all watched your consciousness recede.
But then, I wasn't there, was I?
You wouldn't know, I think.
You wrote me a note to say goodbye.
A final note... Why?

You lost so much blood, sweetie.
Just how many pills did you need?!
Was the knife not enough,
you had to overdose as well?
I miss you so much.

I would always hold you when you cried.
It's my fault I left.
I kissed you goodbye while you slept.
I still love you.
Forgive me!
Come back to me, my run-away friend.
Part two of "The Final Note"
Marquis Hardy Jul 2016
I remember the sun hitting the white sheets in the middle of the day. I was getting up to clean, and she was still lying there. The natural light poured in from the window and drowned her face forcing her eyes shut while she sang along to her favorite song. She somehow managed to dance with her whole body while she was still laying down, and I’m sure those sheets had never felt happier. I wasn’t getting much done, unless you count memorizing her movements, and the impossible way her smile was brighter than the sun. I keep trying, but I can’t remember her face; It’s just her smile. That’s the last thing I remember, I don’t know how I got here, and I honestly don’t really know where here is… Why are you crying?  

She wiped away her tears, “I-I’m sorry. I could just picture her opening her eyes and seeing you recording her every motion. I can see you standing there through the sunlight motionless and mesmerized at the sight of her lying there, dancing in the bed.”

Yes, you’re right. That’s exactly how it was. Where am I? Where is she?

She starting crying again, but this time she was sobbing uncontrollably.
"You’ve been in the hospital; You were on your way to work and you got in a car accident. You’ve been in a coma for three weeks."

What? Are you my doctor? If you’re my doctor, then why are you crying? What’s going on?

Why are you crying?
I was about to make my bed until I opened the window, and this came to my head. It's the first thing I've written in a while and I think it's okay.
KarmaPolice Jan 2016
Locked In

Closing my eyes, I drift away,
A memory of old, I hope to replay,
That special birthday, or event,
My mother’s cooking, a homely scent,
~~~
The trip to wales, our broken car,
Hysteria of life, the passing star,
Imagination, running free,
Brothers and Sisters, close as can be,
~~~
My first crush, and broken tears,
The dreams I have, roll back the years,
Christmas at home, a day in the park,
Long summer gone, a new life starts,
~~~
A walk down the aisle, my vow to keep,
A young child cries, her father weeps,
Home replaced home, our family grew,
One child family, soon became two,
~~~
Holidays abroad, children at school,
Bed before eight, that was the rule,
Two graduations, and career breaks,
Comforting daughters, boyfriend mistakes,
~~~
Tragedy returns, my eyes awoken,
Crying deep inside, no words spoken,
Family gather round, my body is dead,
The soul occupies, the thoughts in my head,
~~~
Holding my hand, hysterical tears,
Support switched off, as my time nears,
I close my eyes, feeling no pain,
Dreaming of when...
I will see them again.
Baylee Sep 2015
Walking around
Miniature pharmacy,
Too many pills to count,
No one understands,
No one can relate,
To the type of life,
The type of hate
She has for herself.

This one every 12 hours,
That one every eight,
Six puffs of an inhaler,
It's her body that she hates.
Walking down the road,
Her bag rattles from all the drugs,
She pops some more here and there,
Then it's nyquil that she chugs.

Why isn't she normal?
Why does she have to do this?
No one her age is worried
About missing their next dose,
But if she misses
A single medication,
She might as well
Admit herself into a hospital
Coma-tose.
hello again Aug 2015
How did I get here?
Am I alive?
I feel weightless, almost like the dust on a lamp.
How did I get here?
All I see is darkness.
Why?
I know I'm not dead.
So where am I?
And why am I here?
and more importantly, how did I get here?
maxine Jul 2015
When I get sleepy I fight the urge to lay my bones to rest.
I have so much going on and lots of stress.
But then it overcomes me and puts me in what seems like a coma.
But then I wake up to my problems still not being over.
I don't know if any of you feel like this, I just feel lately since my sleep schedule has been back on track whenever I get tired it just hits me all at once and I'm not able to do anything, and then once I fall asleep it feels like I'm in a coma. I don't know it's an odd poem and not one of my best works but I thought I'd write about it. :)
Alexandria Hope Jul 2015
This haze about me is permeating, it dances in and out of the ebbing waves. Not completely black, though the smokey wisps and shades of black lend the water enough to be so.
Boats rest docked, ever on the schedule of the tides, marked by the men waded out to them. Foot soldiers in shimmering, soft grey suits the color of dove, up to their knees soaked. There is a hooded figure on the dock, not a woman nor a man. They carry a long rowing oar like a staff and stand always upright, vigilant. Without bones to weary or skin to age, only a porcelain mask to face when the time comes.
It isn’t expensive to take the ferry here, not terribly, in any case.
Unlike so many fishing wharfs I’ve seen before, there is no unpleasant odor. It smells of wet wood and lilies, which is curious. There are flowers about, dying roses are continually pushed up to the beach, but those I cannot smell. The lilies I cannot see.
In the water there are small paper boats with a candle each, burning easy in the windless air. The men in the water dodge the wayward boats that have drifted too far, but none of them seem to fear catching fire.
My feet are bare on the hard packed clay beach, I could easily walk in among them, and I wonder if I should go out to help.
Through the distance and dark I can see they carry a heavy box upon their shoulders, it dips dangerously to one side as one man slips.
The hooded figure does not turn as they slip their burden into a waiting boat.

I want to go with it, to see what’s waiting beyond.
Just as if my thoughts are read, I hear a small voice beside me and startle.
They must not see me here, or I will surely be in danger. Only the hooded figure may know me, should I choose to pay.

“You cannot go,” speaks the voice. It is a young girl, russet hair pulled up in a ponytail, though much of it is soaked and sticking. There is a **** upon the side of her head, but that is to be expected.

My mouth twists at the corner in a down turn, my first instinct to rebuke her. My but I am curious, however. “Why don’t you?” I counter, not turning. Never turning.
You must not face those you meet at the docks, nor at crossroads.

She nods appropriately, also staring out at the men as they work the ropes securing the boat to the dock.

“I cannot wake, neither can I depart. I am waiting in the interim.” She broached, a little wistfully. Then with a further turn towards conversation, asks, “what do you suppose they are? Do you suppose they were once-”

“No,” I interject. “No I don’t suppose.” And she smartly shuts her mouth.

If I face her, I’ll know. I’ll look into her eyes and see the water rising and hear her screams and feel the burn of hospital lights. I cannot allow her to see me.

“You cannot go, you cannot wake. You cannot stay.” I wondered aloud. “Have you not the cost to pay?” At this, she almost turns. I slide my gaze further away before I hear her again.

“You are old, you’ve forgotten the true weight of the price.”

The boat is freed and its guide alights it soundlessly. The men turn back towards us to fetch their next charge as I unknowingly hold my breath.
This time the box is much smaller, light enough for one of them to hold in his arms. The other three form a procession up to another waiting boat.

I’ve been too caught up in watching to notice the terror on the girl’s face. There is not much assurance in this place, but here we are.
She doesn’t make any notion that she can hear me as I voice myself, albeit shallowly.

“It isn’t yours.” But it might be, for all I know. For when I finally turn my head at the silence,

She is gone.
Airisgone Jul 2015
I love you
I love you
With all of my heart
and soul

I'm a very stupid person
Yet you stay with me
You show me your love
In the most simplest of ways

You are my world
You are my life
You grant me peace
In this crazy world

And if I could wish
for one thing
A selfish request
That only you can grant

If I fell into a deep sleep
And when I wake up

I'd love your kind embrace
With the words
"Welcome home."
For my number 1
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