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B D Caissie Sep 5
I'm cross-legged on a sandy floor encircled by a seamless wall of glass.
The future lies beneath me and clouds above cast shadows of my past.

The sand beneath is spiraling down and with each grain a speck of time.
Lost in my complacency until I slip through the hourglass that's mine.

Your despondent eyes are watching me while my world is turned upside down.
Then the sands of time come pouring down and bury me in the ground.


©
Em MacKenzie Aug 23
I spotted a fortune teller at an old county fair
while knowing the answers I still looked for some there.
There was no love line or fate line she could’ve read,
I told her I bet there’s no sun line, life line or trace of a head.
She met my eyes with sadness written all over her face,
and told me out of all people that I was her worst case.
She traced the inside of my hand intently trying to see
then she asked me had I recently been burned severely.

In my death bed I’ve been waiting patiently for sleep
sadly I’m not the one it wishes to greet.
With past scars and present fresh wounds tunnelling down so deep,
loss of blood and mind so I’m left as just a sack of meat.

A loving caress to each feature
but succeed in only poking the bone,
and every single living creature
dies completely alone.
She was a rainbow and I; charcoal grey,
they all choose to go but claim they wish to stay.

The beeping bouncing off the wall
steady like sirens or alarms,
and at the end of it all
we all die in our own arms.
She was a rainbow and I; charcoal grey,
I still catch her glow but it’s fading away,
I know it could never last, but I still have to pray,
‘cause I am the past and she’s only in today.

I’ve acted strong and kept up this ruse,
atleast I can say I’ve always been brave,
but when I’m not digging up the past, ghosts or clues,
I’ve steadily been digging my own grave.

No lines, no ties, not a single strand.
I’ve got the palmist right in the palm of my hand.
Points to those who get the Donnie Darko and Sopranos references.
Autmn T May 13
And the people who are extensions of you breathe monoxide and speak with the sound of shrewd drills. I can't help but hear your voice through their wreckage.
“When you have to make a choice and don't make it, that is in itself a choice.” -William James
DAF Mar 27
its warm until it burns the skin
                                                      too much comfort can be dangerous
short and sweet is best they say
                                                      must not get familiar with the taste
Tony Tweedy Mar 21
Have you ever reached a crossroad in your life and with complacency or with fear of what left or right offers or entails, at high speed powered on, only to find it was actually a T junction?
Only then you realise that life has no reverse gear and that some walls are very hard?
Em MacKenzie Nov 2018
Tell me I’m not stupid for allowing myself to feel,
searching out for the next wound before letting the former heal,
I’ve been convincing myself that the invisible path is real,
but it’s not wide enough for two; one can stand and one can kneel.

If there’s anything in this world that tightens my chest,
it’s the moment I am strangled by vulnerability.
I keep it chained away to the very best,
to the very best of all my abilities.
Take all those thrown away phrases
and piece them back together to hit my ears
it’s funny how the long silence still amazes,
amazes me after all these quiet years.

Are you Sonic the hedgehog,
‘cause this is a chaos emerald.
Wipe away the tears to see the fog,
my world shakes when once it trembled.
I’ve got an easy road ahead of me
where the path could be so easy,
but I’m drawn to walk into the sea,
I wish that instinctive pull would leave me.

We humans are such destructive creatures
we turn soil to scorched earth with just one touch.
It’s the curse of emotions and all it features,
makes us decline a cast and accept a crutch.
We fall prey to our monsters like a disease,
do I pick life support or a clean cut cure?
A solid steel spine or weak and shaking knees?
Toxic lungs or a gasp of air too pure?

Should I swallow this gulp of mundane routine
conform and erase all individuality?
The white picket fence in photographs is so pristine
but it’s covered in dust and mold the naked eye can’t see.

My storybook ending is incomplete
as I didn’t much care for the ending.
I traded in tragedy instead of something sweet,
‘cause I’ve never been so good at pretending.
All along there are holes both in the souls and plot,
and I wish to roll but can’t afford the toll as empty hands are all I got
mslu Nov 2018
serendipity

i've dipped in and out

the mountains i thought i moved took back their strength

and in the taking,
cracked open the ground

leaving me off-balance than before

yes, i should've fought back but


serendipity

i stay dipping in and out

there's no such thing as control

no such thing as handled

a loose grip

had me falling through the cracks
and as i fell onto hard times

the darkness welcomed me

so i stayed

. . .
Angela Gregorio May 2017
There are days
Sometimes weeks
where I just feel
complacent.
Em MacKenzie May 2018
I speak inside my brain
and then my heart replies.
I've lived my life as the rain
falling down from the vacant skies.
I told you that I loved you
and truer words were never spoken,
but how much can one person do,
when paradise is broken?

I turn my back on memories
but they still slap me in the face,
the emotions get the best of me
when I'm standing in the wrong place.
I told you that I'd keep you dry
even though I myself was soakin'
but how hard can one person try
when paradise is broken?

The pastel colours were fake,
except the black and white,
I shaded it all for the sake
it was not pleasing to my sight.
In every single dream I drown,
I always give up on that fight,
until I'm buried in the ground
I'll dream that struggle every night.

Heaven is over occupied
they stopped letting just any folk in,
and purgatory is mystified
'cause paradise is broken.

I long for the free birds
with their hazardous flapping wing
and the way they spin their words
into gentle songs we sing.
I told you I was missing my mind
I just could never rope it in,
how much can one person find
when paradise is broken.

The pastel colours were fake,
except for the black and white,
I needed the blue for a lake,
and the red for the ****** fight.
In every dream I'm alone,
I try to change that with all my might,
you spoke aloud in a wrong tone
but atleast the words were right.

Heaven is over occupied
I wish I never had woken,
and Hell is now justified
cause paradise is broken.

You own; each beat from my chest, both lungs and every breath,
what I have and all the rest,
my life until my death.
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