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Dominic Lees Dec 2017
Thread breaks the seams
as it dances along your fingertips and into the fabric
it takes form in art, not traditional or too abstract.
A modest and humble artform that you can call your own,
as it pairs with your gentle demeanor against the harsh
red light of the city.

Yes, the soft-spoken words of a tailor.
The velvet, cotton, suede.
Floral patterns to lull me
into a soft daydream.
An escape from the **** and the **** of a city, where
beauty is lost or forgotten or
crushed beneath the boot of the next abrasive king.
You remind me of a time gone by.
A rose-tinted past where I did nothing wrong.
I yearn to learn more of the tailor who gives me hope
in the place I lost mine.
A thousand voices stir and I wonder.
When again will I see you?
Vinyldarling Dec 2017
i hate you.
not because i have an ounce of spite in me.
i hate you because you made me miss you.
because you just had to time it so perfectly
for my lonesome, wondering soul
to want something again.

it is restless nights like these
when i stare out my window and peek through the blinds
watching as the moon hides behind the surrounding buildings
and the stars twinkle ever so slightly in the frosty atmosphere
that i feel alone.

i grew dependent on myself
and yet here i am,
writing something because you
made me
dependent on you
all
over
again.
living is hard, but loving can be impossible
Laurel Leaves Aug 2017
I think I have successfully found a way to avoid it all
Slamming my fist into the dashboard

The plastic cracks under my knuckles

I see your white lighter that fell

Years ago

rolling out from under the passenger’s seat

initials scratched in sharpie

I said when the tan line on my ring finger disappeared

I’d be over that stage of us

So I kept wearing rings on that finger







I see it in his eyes

The same loss that I felt

Creeping through me

As I claw for the delicate throws of normality

Fantasizing escaping

I wanted to break even

To orchestrate the great

Explain to the world

That I can hold fast

That I can find a sense of sanity that would last

All the while,
tying myself to the train tracks





I used to have this grip

I held it so tightly

promising myself that this mania

of prep meals

and daily runs

would sooth me

I said that the schedule is what will keep me

off the edge of the bridge

but it slipped under my head like a knife

followed me to bed nightly

singing the same trope of dependency



how they led me

I drank them in like their skin

was wine,

I sipped heavy gulps

and called them mine

leading down the same path

of sitting in the passengers seat of the car,

parked outside of our house

holding onto an old lovers lighter
George Grogan Jul 2017
I roll from bed.., awoke: too a strong a word
My head aches and my frame shivers and shakes
A sick feeling washes over me and I lay back down

It was a great night …it must have been…right?
Guilt washes over me..
with a furtive glance i look around
Did I leave some sign? Does she know?

I see her watching me from the shadows with a withering look
Her arms crossed together, eyes that no longer cry tell the story
The hurt, the pain, the lies have all taken the their toll
And I wonder if today will be the day she goes
or if shes’ already gone

my wife no longer longs.
life a dull drudgery
like a hiker lost in the woods
head down, she slowly moves
one foot in front of the other…
hour by hour and day by day…
knowing the end is inevitable

Our romance is like the silver ash of a fire
that once burned bright
now cold and dry
it didn’t break
just crumbled under unspoken weight

Deeper than passion
has been our friendship
and that has been trodden on,
pressed into the ground

Love is not enough,
it may keep us together
but my sin keeps us apart

I know she is here because her shadow accuses me every day
but am afraid that her heart has left
and withdrawn deep inside of her
to a safe place where I can no longer touch it
For you see, we are no longer …two in one, …but three.
Her…Me…and the Drink.

When we started she was my mistress..
we would sneak away and play late into the night.
I looked forward to the times we had together.
No one understood me… but her
I could relax and be myself,
laugh, cry and shout
But somehow she has become my master
and it is no longer want, but must that drives me to her.

She even sleeps with us,
invading the most intimate place of our lives.
She eats my food..leaving me with no appetite.
My dreams have faded until they are ghosts,
purpose, passion and destiny are words that now mock me.
She monopolizes me…taking all my time,
I look at them, the kids... need the father I once was,
especially the little one
, .. tomorrow…soon, I will make it all right
And put away the Drink

But somehow she has taken my energy “to do”.
I haven’t quit wanting..i have just quit doing
She has drained my spirit and stolen my soul
not in a rush like a hurricane
but like a hidden cancer slowly eats away a hole…
making me fat, lazy, stupid and grey
grey in heart, like a sail with a gaping hole
The winds may blow but have no affect on me

AH! But I will stop all of this…
I will be what I once was, ….NO! even better.
I will do it! Yep, tomorrow, or the day after.
After all there is no need to waste what I have hidden…
I will get rid of it tonight and then I can quit.
It will be easier if there is no drink laying around


The car door closes and they drive away
I can’t believe my good luck! Alone for the day!
I open the closet, pulling back the wall I pry out the hidden bottle
I smile.. my wife is clever and thinks she knows everything about me and my ways
Oh but she could never guess how clever we are!
She calls it “sneaky, lying and decieving”…
She is soooo serious! Lighten up, babe!
its just a game! Right?
I win this round! Ha!

I pull the lid and move the bottle to my mouth
No, not here.
This is a special moment that deserves preparation.
I go into the living room
move the chair toward the tv
and put in the tape that I will soon forget
Fumbling in the kitchen I get a small glass
(no wanton wanting (at least not now) no sloppy rushing the trough
but slow and deliberate alcoholic foreplay..
Like a doctor preparing for surgery
i make ready for my private party
I slowly fill my glass halfway
eager anticipation and a sense of fulfillment overwhelm me
I laugh out loud and make a toast
…one of many that I will make tonight.
The first (from The groundhog day movie) is to world peace.

There are stages I go through or places I land when I drink
The first is a wam feeling of relaxation
My Irish heritage crying out “drink and be merry”
(it must have been the Germans or some other overly organized race who inserted...for tomorrow we shall die!)

I find myself laughing hilariously
at the movie, myself, the world in general
I know what I need I think to myself!
Something to eat!
Not too much
because I wouldn’t want the food to dull the power of my drink
I stumble into the kitchen and prepare a huge meal

I am halfway through it when my laughter turns into crying.
Like it was only yesterday
I cry with bitter grief over my dead father, my sister, and on and on…
My heart is flooded with painful memories and in anguish I weep

I believed for a long time that this crying was good for me
An emotional release that allowed me to vent past pain
But I am convinced that alcohol is a magical drug.
It can raise the dead and resurrect memories long buried
It brings to life every hurt,
offense, shame and pain with amazing power

Like a trapped and tortured animal the pain turns to anger.
As a thunderstorm moves across a purple sky
A deep and dark rage begins to rise
A sense of outrage that crys NEVER, NEVER AGAIN!
Like a chained dog teased by those just out of reach
I find myself shaking my fist at ghosts and days gone by

But this also fades… at least for the night,
like an extinguished fire leaves a blackened forest
the rage leaves a dark sooty stain upon my soul
I feel exhausted, very tired and sleepy
The black and gray screen on the television flickers
I can’t remember what movie I was watching or when it ended

I roll from bed.., awoke: too strong a word
My head is aching and my frame shivers and shakes
A sick feeling washes over me and I lay back down
It was a great night …I am pretty sure.
Guilt washes over me..
Did I leave some sign? Does she know?
And I see her watching me from the shadows with a withering look
Her arms crossed together, eyes that no longer cry tell the story
The hurt the pain the lies have all taken the their toll
And I wonder if today will be the day she goes or if shes’ already gone
D**n, I need a drink!
Taylor Ganger Jul 2017
How do I sleep at night?
When you're losing this fight
Choking on candid emotions
That I can't even eat
Look at me, I'm thinning
Sure you are too
Sure it's a symbol
Of what's going to happen to you
I can't even fathom
You not being here
No more of this chasm
That you've fallen into
I'm sure if you die
I will too.
For my best friend. I hope your fire still burns. I promise I'll see you again. I have to
Harley Hucof May 2017
Love is no lie.
Dependency is a lie.


Words Of Harfouchism.
Not really a poem
I am stuck.
I can not breathe.
I need my life support.
Please help me.
Breathe for me.
Make your heart beat for me.

Too late.
I do it for you!* I wanted to scream,
I do it all for you, you *******!

But sometimes, when you knock on
wood, you find it hollow, an empty that
echoes, and even the loudest noise couldn't
wake that dormant emotion, those parts
of you that have retreated into sleep,
curling in on themselves.

I have been trying to let them
down gently, my floorboards. They keep
creaking at night, thinking you're still
tiptoeing around my house. How do I
tell them you're gone?

Easy's in ashes. I'll never have it again, and
I'm tired, of being tired, of feeling sorry
for myself, so hit me with your best shot.
Make it hurt. I am not above begging.

Sometimes I think I am not above
anything at all.

Unhealthy, sure, whatever, lock me up.
**** the lights. Set the house on fire.
I don't care anymore. Lies perpetuating
lies, lies inside lies, lies lining the inside
of your throat and pushing against the
roof of your mouth.

I made a place for myself there, you know.
I made a place for the both of us, but we
were too cowardly to live in it, too weak,
and besides, what you said about me was true.

I doubt my own doubts, far more than I doubt you.
oh
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