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I'm burying my own words as best I can,
but as soon as I have set the ban,
down in a hole beneath filthy tongues
twisted from lies and sour-breathed pulling,
you make my blood boil.

You whisper about me, I can hear it,
behind the book shelf,
between the narrow isles of stories.

This place could offer me sanctuary,
but you came along,
and you are every noise, breath, sight and smell.
I cannot read, you are always over my shoulder.

I might collapse here and hope someone does not see me.
Am I overwhelmed or bitchy?
Am I lonely or needy?
Truly, I must ask, are things in me or are they part of this library?
maybe i have anger issues or something but there is no help but for books i cannot read because i am distracted at least a few times per page so HAHA
Andrew Oct 2017
I can hear confusion clap
Could it be confusion relapse?
Is the problem confusion perhaps?

I sit in solitary confinement
To perfect my confusion refinement
He guards my door
Like a chore
From inside my lonely stall
I can hear him take calls
I stare into a concrete grey
That blocks the Sun's rays

If I told my guard I loved him
Would he free me from this cell?
Would he free me from this hell?
Or would he release me
To the murderers and thieves?
Or would he release me
To a life where he leaves?
I sit silently in solitary
And enjoy his presence
I'm not allowed in his monastery
For I'm a mere peasant

Confusion grasps
I scream
Muffled gasps
In the wind
Confusion flaps

I fear the day the guard leaves his post
Because he's the one I love the most
He's a circumstance of my condition
When he's my confusion's ambition
Making him the only one I see
So how can I ever be free?

I have become a confusion shell
I live in a confusion cell
In love I fell
Have you ever felt grey?
As if you’re in the middle.
I just want to kneel and pray.
My mind emits white noise.
I go out on a bright sunny day.
Yet my eyes see nothing.

Confusion and chaos sets in.
I stand my ground as it shakes.
My brain shuts down as I grin.
As if a demon took over me.
My mind makes noises; it’s sin.
I write aimlessly with imagery.

See that dark sky?
No it’s not dark.
I didn’t even open my eyes.
It’s all in the mind.
When emotions run wild.
There are no more rhymes.
Only static and failing images.
That could come to mind.
I don’t know.
Isn’t it funny that we can breathe the same air even when we’re so far away?
Maybe that’s why it feels like you’re inches from me.
And I knew you the least when you were closer than ever.
Why do you have to be so far for me to fully understand you, as you are?

When I make love with her I close my eyes and think of you.
We could be young forever, and maybe that’s why I’ll remember your body.
Does it even matter that you’ve let go of me?
We’ve let go before.

But maybe I’ll stop dreaming of us, day trip with another in my arms, and be happy.
Maybe you don’t love me, or maybe you do. It doesn’t matter.
We’ll meet again.
And when we do, will it be different?
This is an old one I decided to share, that's why some lines may spill over. I'm sorry. I just feel related to this piece tonight and want to post it. I hope some of you can relate, or maybe I hope you won't. Sweet dreams...
I told a story as a Roman a clef
for years the conflict plagued my mind,
I confessed that I've always been half deaf,
but you showed me that I was also blind.
How many jumps did I fail to leap?
How many catches left me with open arms?
I lost count when auditing the sheep;
I wish they'd just remain in their barns.

Unfortunately for poor me
I am cursed to never forget.
It's torturing to know what could've been,
if the future just had the stones set.
I'm nocturnal, banned from sleep
and I dread every new dawn.
It's so diurnal counting the sheep
'cause they just keep moving on.

You burned a bible for a statement of stand
for days my mind peaked at the thought,
so I examined every single grain and sand
and never questioned why the surroundings were so hot.
My tongue can tell a thousand lies
but my eyes and cheeks will always tell the truth,
for we share a mind while we share the skies,
to the elder seas from the drops of our youth.

Unfortunately for poor me
I am cursed to never forget.
The earth is scorches as far as the eye can see
and my dear the sun has permanently set.
I'm nocturnal, banned from sleep
and the pillow cases are mismatched and wrong.
I'm drowning in these thoughts so deep
and rewriting sentences that are far too long.

It's always easier to pretend it was nothing
than to ever admit it was everything.
I went from swimming in luxury to a life I've been roughing,
I've went from hearing birds to hating the bell's ring.
But that's all packed up in a box I labeled fragile,
and in smaller writing "never open again."
And the insomnia increases my headaches and stomach bile,
when all is broken where do you find the time to mend?

Unfortunately for poor me
I am cursed to never forget.
My new addiction is now gambling
on the one place I should never place my bet.
I don't know
What's going on
This world is cruel sometimes

Darkness falls, pain descends
New light shines, a new day begins
Hope survives, love endures

But when two lights shine
At once, which is brighter?
The one that has returned, lingered from before,
Or the one that was switched on, brought here despite warnings?

Their light together
Becomes blinding, confusing, agonising

I don't know
What to do
The lights are so bright

Should I close my eyes
Shut both of them out,
Until one becomes dark?

Or should I keep them open
Adjust to the light,
So I can see which is brighter?

No matter which I choose,
One will be turned off
Forever dark,
Never shining again

The other will shine on,
For a time at least,
But what if it burns out?
I'll be left alone again,
In the eternal darkness
That never seems to leave

I don't know
What I feel
I don't know
What I see
Both lights are far too bright

I hope it'll be alright
\ i have a finger
   it has a trigger
i have a bullet
   it has a chamber

a perfect fusion
to combat illusion

  and i'm rolling
back down the road
to the city we all
know of

Linger City
Linger City
Linger City

Where i keep
my finger
with a rigor
mortis snicker

screw you city
my funny bone
is a state of
all within
the limits of

Linger City
Linger City
Linger City

yeah /

:: 09-12-2018 ::
It's one of those moments and I won't ignore it.  Write on.
Natasha 7d
First I fell for your eyes
With hazel specks and inviting guise
Then I fell for your laugh
Uneven and hearty and somewhat shy.

Soon I fell for your hands
Then your lips, your brain, and incredible drive—
Your truths, your dreams, your curious smile
Your biggest regrets and most convincing lies.

And now I’ve fallen for you.
And all at once it feels jeopardized—
I fear to confess
Those 3 little words that
Historically have been so weaponized.
Little baby nothing

Momma nothing, your baby has got the blues.
These tears I weep are the only way I can speak with you.
Little empty of feelings, little crazy days in Hell,
For little baby, waiting for an angel, to help me clean myself.

Couldn’t find the words to speak,
‘Take this dummy out of my mouth.’
Pacify your little baby nothing;
Oh my Goddess, why can’t you help me out?

Silence breaks the screaming; nothing left to shout about,
Or let out.
Full of gas.  A giggle laugh.
All these things which I am scheming;
Got to find a way to indulge the doubt and the dreaming.

I couldn’t face another half-truth.
I cannot tell the lies from how I should feel.
I couldn’t cover my feelings, bruised.
I’m falling into myself with no way to heal.

Another soiled nappy removes the smile from my face.
Another bib full of happy pictures.
I can only eat if I become a runway.
Flashing camera blinds my eyes, I’m lost, I need her!
The Manics blow my little ear drums.
My mood changes with every tear;
Isn’t life such fun!

I cry for I have no human language,
That I can use to explain to giants.
This is no fun, satisfaction impatience;
I have been waiting for a year!
Why does mommy not come to me?
I wish I didn’t disappear.

Little baby, nothing left to say,
Beneath the blues mid-winter.
Tired of singing lullabies,
This hobbit needs another dinner.

You love us,
But you love us,
But you love us,
But you love us.
Do you love us?

Little baby nothing doesn’t lend a hand.
Little baby nothing just can’t understand,
Post-natal, post-partum,
Post-modernism epiphanies.

(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Crow Sep 10
Oh my Love
Let us Lovingly Love
Our Lovely Love

And with our Lovingness
Our Lovicity will
Love the Love of Lovers

Love only Love
And the Love of Love

With Loving Loveliness
And Lovitude Lovability Lovishness Lovaroni Loviquity






Where was I?
I sometimes suffer from what some consider an odd sense of humor
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