I woke up at eight
Ate breakfast before it was too late

Wrote some poetry with a pen
Then took a nap at half past ten

I woke up again at one
Went outside and basked in the sun

I ate a big lunch at two
Before I tied my left shoe

I arrived there at a quarter to three
I was at the library filled with glee

I left the old books around six
Wandered around and kicked some sticks

I walked home at eight
Since it was getting too dark and late

I ate a snack at nine
And talked to some friends online

I put on my pajamas at ten
Then I went to sleep and repeated the cycle again

Gunner 3d

Skin by definition is a thin layer of tissue forming a natural outer covering of the body.
Skin is for people to tan, to clothe, apply make up to... to touch.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

Mosquito bites.
Mosquito bites by definition are the itchy bumps that appear after mosquitoes use their proboscis to puncture your skin and feed on your blood.
Mosquito bites are for people to feel, to itch, to bleed, to scab and repeat. The entire cycle.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

Summer by definition is the warmest season of the year.
Summer is for t-shirts, shorts, exposure, swimming, tanning, skin, skin, skin, skin, skin.
"It's Summer, put on some shorts."
"It's Summer, why aren't you wearing a t-shirt?"
"It's Summer, let's go swimming!"
Summer is a time for these questions, these statements, these words to fester, to breed like muosquitos, to sting like the bite of a bug.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

A Dermatologist by definition is a doctor that treats diseases, in the widest sense, and some cosmetic problems of the skin, skin, skin, skin, skin.
The Dermatologist tells me to use this and to use that. Lotions and potions, as my mother would say. Slather, rub, treat, swallow.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

Skin care.
Skin care by definition is the range of practices that support skin integrity, enhance its appearance and relieve skin conditions.
Get up, shower, sterilizing soap, body oil, steroid cream, medicated lotion, drink water and repeat the process before bed. My daily cycle.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

A Seesaw by definition is to change rapidly and repeatedly from one position, situation, or condition to another and back again.
Seesaw, to push off the ground, into the air with a sense of victory and joy, only to fall hard to the ground with stinging ankles and sore calf's.
This isn't a playground anymore.
The Dermatologist says that if I don't get better, they'll have to put me on the pill.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

The Pill.
The Pill is an oral treatment for my condition. My eczema.
One pill every morning at seven AM with food and an entire glass of water.
The risk associated with the pill- Osteoporosis,  Muscle weakness, Mood and Behavioral changes, Increase in chance of developing cataracts,  Stomach Ulcers and Liver Failure.
One pill every morning at seven AM with food and an entire glass of water. The daily cycle.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab.... fuck it.

I would rather my liver fail and my bones go brittle then to be stared at on the street!
"What is that?"
"Are you okay?"
"What's wrong with her?"
"Is it contagious?"
"Don't touch me!"
I itch, my nails dragging over my scarred skin and pulling at wounds. I bleed, the welts that crack and leak drops from the red river that flows silently beneath my skin. I scab, leaving horrible lumps of ugly, hardened flesh to coat the once smooth area. I repeat....

Well, I don't want to repeat! I want to be able wear the clothes I want, to walk the streets with out the judging and questioning eyes of the passersby on me, to be held and touched by a significant other without the fear that their fingers will fall upon my skin and recoil in disgust!

Without looking in the mirror and wondering when I can finally begin to love myself.

I decided that today is the day! No more Itching! No more Bleeding! No more Scabs! It's time to break this god damn cycle.

Do you think she’ll witness my downfall
When she goes to hell?
Do you think she’ll feel the anguish of empathy?
Do you think she’ll find a way to introspect
Instead of projecting?
That would cause her suffering.
I won’t be grouped in with fools
Who discharge ressentiment
With dreams of those who’ve wronged them
Suffering more than they have...
But I know it must discharge somewhere.
What constrains me?
The stunted superego
Suffocates the id
Holds it down and kicks it;
A child beaten
Tells itself
It doesn’t want to hurt its family
Until the day it’s realized
That it can’t.
And then, its spirit broken
Lays dormant, a pressure cooker
Tells itself it doesn’t want to rise
To cope with having fallen.
It stays silent and still long after left
Retreated so far into itself
That now it fails to recognize
The threat is gone –
The abuse goes on
Long beyond it’s ended.
She told me she loved my poetry,
That I inspired her to write
About her father.
I should have seen it coming then
It was no different from before -
I let myself be used again
I have no excuse.

Dizzy from feeling
Foolish yet again the
Circle that was once large
No longer exists as I
Weigh out a few options
Either give in or pick up
The pieces to learn a lesson
Lies are only powerful
When the truth is held in
Darkness one wrong turn
And it was all over in an instant..

my life is on repeat.
the same hurt,
the same loss,
the same feeling of emptiness.
it all just keeps repeating
like a broken record
in a run down store
that no one goes into anymore.

an unexpected turn.
this is an unexpected turn.
i feel joy,
i feel elated,
i feel pure happiness.
it all is so overwhelming
like riding on a rollercoaster
in a wild theme park
that never closes when it turns dark.

the same cycle.
it's just the same cycle.
what i thought to be a difference
was just the same old thing.
waves of happiness,
waves of sadness,
it's the expected twist.
the oscillations
seem to continue on forever
with no end in sight.

and so it goes again.

my life is on repeat.

originally written 4/11/16
ryn Apr 21

Asleep in ice,
hardened by the winds of winter

Only to awaken
and thaw with the rise of spring

Harnessing the sun
and frolic in the rays of summer

Bedtime is soon near,
as the leaves start browning

Raghu Menon Apr 11

Some times
Some thoughts
Are like as if
It had occurred to us
Before... Forcing us
To think
Haven't I had this before?
Aren't they familiar?

Is life a repeating
Cycle of thoughts
Some forgotten
Some so fresh
Some having
A bit of taste as we
Have tasted before
Some times
Some where
in the past

in any other lives??

I have to be honest somewhere,
might as well be here
I get the feeling sometimes
the end is drawing near,
I hear it in your hesitation
and the way you're quick to go,
don't try and tell me one thing
when inside, you know I know
I hate to materialize this in the world
but I can't hold on to it anymore,
I'm scared you'll never really change
and by tomorrow, it'll have replayed
that same little mistake,
the one we all make
you know the one I'm talking about,
don't you?
I do

CeilingStar Apr 7

Always the same
This cyclic life

Fuller than the sun, reaching further and yet its rays touch me merely for a second
Hidden by clouds
The dullest drizzle
For miles my sadness sounds

A different outfit everyday to cover the same dreary routine
The same feelings poisoning my being, brimming over till it spills
Spills over and never recedes
Like gloom grows, the day slows

Always the same
A race of worker bees we've become,
Ourselves to blame
We work to live but never live

Living for the future is to not live at all

Should I pass through the clouds this dawn I would never know you or this life

I'd never know consuming heartbreak
I'd never feel the unrelenting wrath of grief
The feeling of depthless love or shallow lust

I'm covered in clothes to hide my skin
My skin to hide my manifesting malaise
Sick of the same and the everlasting train with no seeming destination

If I jump will I see my dream
Or will I be lost, lost to this life
And it's damning merry-go round of everything acutely grey

I wonder as I try to find air
Are you the surface I can't reach,
Drowning so fast
It's as if I'm sinking
The shackles of society have tied my ankles to rocks
Drag down
Never to breathe
Never to see
Only to drown

Saccharine seconds relieve me temporarily but I can't ever feel free

There is no thirst and I have no reason to give you as to why I get up each morning
Get up just to see how far I am from feeling the sun still
It grinds me into the dirt and cripples my will

I want it to stop
Never again
But I haven't the strength for mine to end

And so continues the heaves I breathe
And the darkness I see

Over and beginning again


Tell me why can't I just leave

Materialism is temporary
But the realism lives on
Learn what's important or
Risk falling into the same traps
That have killed many souls
Over the years fingers will
Point in many directions but
Only a select few accept their
True fate as slaves to the game..

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