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Kyla 3d
the tightness increases
i have to leave
wrist to elbow
i can’t breathe
Laokos May 12
the trees branch as they grow,
the wind cuts through the forest,
the sea breaks into itself eternally—
this is cleaving,
this is creation.  

cells split,
shadows stretch long and thin
over trimmed grass
as the light returns
to the other side.

and now the moon floats
in ghostly meditation,
hinting at what’s hidden
and how close
it all seems sometimes.

I was never far from myself,
except when I was,
and writing this doesn't
make any sense—
why should it?
who’s keeping score?

who’s the grand cosmic judge
of all artistic expression everywhere
across all
dimensions and time?

nobody.
that's who.
nobody cares.
that’s the point.

it doesn't matter what
I say on this page,
even if it's terrible,
even if it’s rotten,
even if no one reads it.
it felt right
to let it flow freely in the moment,
to spill it all out.
that’s what matters—
the spilling of it.

there’s a sweetness in that.
in the clean slice of the razor
and the blood it draws—
quiet,
quick
and true.

drip,
drip,
drip,


all over the page.
Ian K Mar 7
Marble is cold
like a lover, scorned.
Hard. Cutting.
It rejects heat.

Yet,
If you should touch
that frigid matter,
painstakingly, you can bring it to life;

make it look like there is blood
flooding through that stone.
We cut one another
Down to the very flesh
While we miss each other
Deep inside our bones

Isn’t that ironic?
Why do we tend to hurt the ones we love (and vice versa)?
The breaking,
of that, final branch.

That, unmistaken,
crunching, chance.

The twist,
that teased,
the gritted crush...

...of bitter unease.

Blood, like, sap, aching,
pouring out, unstanched.

The forgotten cut, forsaken...

...of rotten, felled circumstance.

Feels, as though, inhumane, is everlasting.

To heal and grow...

...after falling, from a baned tree, ungrasping...

...is the toughest ask in life's chase romance.

© poormansdreams
I didn't make the cut again,
I guess that makes sense.
I don't look like the characters from the original film,
I'm not blond a skinny like the prince,
I'm not built and burly like the craftsman.
I'm not pudgy like the shopkeeper,
Nor am I silent like the king

But I can act,
I know I can.
Because everyday I act happy,
Wake up and do it again.
I act confident when I'm up on stage,
But maybe they couldn't see it,
After all, I hide it so well.
This ones kind of iffy don't know if I like it. Have a great Monday everyone.
Steve Page Dec 2024
It only takes a small cut
  It only takes a soft word
in the right spot
  in the right ear
to sink deep
  to sink in
and scar for good.
  and bring healing.
Lessons from life.
Clay Powell Dec 2024
I draw into my skin, my days begin to spin, when I draw into my skin it feels
like a win. I know, its a sin. How do I stop when the only way I can feel a rush of dopamine is carving the layers of my flesh, as the fresh lines appear. I stare at the blood slowly bubbling to the surface, it eases me when my mind feels like a circus. I cant seem to put into words how silver helps, its hard to explain, its like the silver is an addictive substance that makes my spine tingle. its hard to stop something I cant I could go on a whole rant but its not worth trying to explain to the unknown.
Morgan Howard Aug 2024
A far away memory,
Whispering in my ear,
A quiet spirit,
Begging me to hear.

A fallen soldier,
In the midst of war,
Screams in cold agony,
And longs to be warm.

She is left there,
Dying all alone,
She cries in the silence,
And dreams of being home.

I walk along a path,
I hear her silent tears,
I run to her aid,
As her end draws near.

She looks up with her eyes,
I wipe tears from her face,
I bandage all her wounds,
She smiles as we embrace.

Some time seems to pass,
Her cuts not fully healed,
But she's doing so much better,
Than she was that fateful year.
Jeremy Betts Aug 2024
Eyelids drop like guillotine blades
Cutting off a visual connection with reality
The world falls into the vastness of a bottomless basket
And the body becomes unimportant
As this energy that was once somebody moves on to what's next

©2024
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