Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sally A Bayan Apr 2020
/\  /\  /\  /\  /\

There's a need for more space,
i feel a lack of fresh air...mostly
carbon dioxide permeates the
inner atmosphere...

grown faces, bodies, voices,
are seen in most corners of the
house, mingling with older ones,
trying to get by, in their own way...

there must be space for house help
sleeping over...i am human, a mix of
selfish, conscientious and unkind,
but it matters that tonight, all are safe,
what's good for the lot......prevails

when the death of each ECQ day is at hand,
when i'm satisfied that all are okay and safe,
i go to my room and concede to its persistent
calling...to free some of my cramped thoughts...
i sit by the window with a lamp's glow, i part
the drapes...and let cool night air envelope me,
i take my time, drifting on blue waters of serenity
as daytime's cabin fever vanishes....temporarily...


Sally

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 29, 2020
(ECQ- Enhanced Community Quarantine)
Pauline Morris Mar 2016
I beg you please enter and leave your place of wonder
Come to me I call all darkness
In here you will be safe from the light

We have a new carcass
It will be so easy
We were invited
We can do what we want
We can not be cited

So here we will stay
Even though with all these demons we are cramped
You.can do anything
On her forehead she is stamped
Ava Bean Mar 2016
It hurts so much
To act like I don't remember.
To look towards my toes
When you sulk down the halls.
It hurts because you will never understand
Why it burns
Or why I left.
You will only ever know that I pushed you out,
Not that I did so because you were pushing me in.
I needed to get out.
MsAmendable Jul 2015
Long car trips
Crowded with junk
And cramping legs
Flashing light streaming through the window
Into the muggy car air,
A trapped fly banging on the glass,
Low rumbling like gravel thunder
And bursts of shaking
Rattling teeth and seatbelts
When you roll over stones
Wisps of vented air
Curling around your naked toes,
And sweaty, rumpled clothes.
Skin sticking to fake leather seats
The slight sifting sick in your belly
Sitting fat like a toad,
And hoping the stuff in the back
Isn't shaking or breaking apart
From the crunching washboard gravel,
And drowsy eyes, tired from endless trees
Slowly drift until you arrive in the dark

— The End —