As I age,
I feel like more of an observer in life,
Than a participant.
Of course,
This "Observer status"
Results in less of a feeling of responsibility.
It isn't entirely the way I wanted things to be,
This is not really the way
I want things to be
But I don't really know
How to get back in to the groove?
imai Apr 22
short and contained moans
fill my ears—
i think of every gasp
as “i love you’s”
i know i would never hear

        hot and sweaty hands
        grasp my thighs—
        i think of every touch
        as promises
        i know you will let die

                strong and desperate hips
                thrust against my own—
                i think of every action
                as “i’ll miss you's”
                i know you’ll never think
                when you are alone.

        long and tired legs
        entangle with mine—
        i think of this finality
        as a self note
        to make this the last time.

cold and distant nothingness
fil the space beside me—
i try to think nothing of this,
i would only be,
once again,
lonely.
more than your body, more than a moment
AD Snail Mar 22
Detached from the body,
Lost within the mind,
Never able to handle troubles,
As shutting down became much easier.

Day to day holds no meaning,
Left in auto pilot nothing being fully processed.

Senseless as I walk the halls of society and home.

Absent and drifting further away,
Floating amongst the void that I made,
Now I gotten myself lost within it.

I gave a kiss goodbye to my life,
As I dipped myself in the bathtub filled with vast of nothing.
im not good with my emotions,
i give too much or not nearly enough.
i dont know why my expectations are so high,
it’s a constant juggle between letting them down or having my heart sink with the titanic.
im not rose and you arent jack and its been 84 years and i still just cant love you back.
i want to be kissed like the whole world is sinking,
like we dont have a choice between life and death,
and i dont want to admit to myself that sometimes,
sometimes i’d choose the latter.
i promise im not dead just feel like it also im not illiterate just tired my dudes
Arlene Corwin Jan 22
Pain Of Place

We were happy or we weren’t.
Blended feelings formed the most;
College, restaurant, bookshop, church,
Street, park, architecture host
To chunks and bits of searching,
Forming eyes of yesterday.
Covered market, cups of tea,
Open market on a Wednesday,
Stalls of veggies, jewelry;
Child to school and child picked up,
The walking to, the walking back,
The elder tree we plucked, hands cupped,
While counted blocks betrayed a lack
Of some fulfillment.  What the target?
Surely not the streets and market.
Not the people either, nor
The daily passing through home’s door.
Gone.  But pictures still remain.
And with the pictures tints of pain.
Of place that’s not the face,
Not company.
The place acts independently,
Its energy “the spirit of…”
Its colors move.
Algos: pain.
Nostos: going home again.
Sweet nostalgia’s pull is ‘bull’.
Place may frame the pre-ordained;
Memory’s the game pre-pained.
Twists and lists: a dream.
Place and act, smell and sound:
Mind boundaries.
Mostly, we were happy or we weren’t.
an objective, detached examination of the past
Faith Jan 16
Feeling extra detached,
My empathy - unlatched.
Surplus time alone,
Odd feeling to the bone.
Never lonely,
But looking for a shift in emotion.
People can sometimes provide,
This motion.
Truly seeking just one person,
For perspective immersion.
A being who I personally find,
To have a lavishly beautiful mind.
A H J Oct 2017
Let me feel-
Every inch of my body are all n u m b
I can't even feel my heart beating
I need a hand! I need YOUR hand!
But did you
     r e a l i z e ?

How my fingers just want to scratch every layers of my skin
How the paper cut scars wrinkles every surface of my fragile lungs!
How cacophony is the only scream that echoes on every hallway of my mind!
How hollow is my mind, to be able to hear each wails of my body parts?

Let me feel-
Let me feel! Let me feel! LET ME FEEL!
Cut me through your threads,
Strangle me by your wires,
Stomp me on your heavy metallic existence!


But,
        did,
                you,
                         l i s t e n ?
Katherine Brooks Sep 2017
That day, they brought me to a place for crack addicts and nut jobs and I wished I didn't belong there. However, this is where life brought me — to a silver lining of a place. I feel like screaming, but no sound comes out. I was a mystery and still am. The living hell of a memory that plays on a broken cassette.

Writing to time lost and to time regaining.
Arlene Corwin Sep 2017
Outside And Inside

Outside a pigeon eats my crumbs.
We call him Walter
Inside hairy news continues.
Warm and numb,
I rustle up the casserole
To fill this hungry tummy hole:
Seoul, the polls…
Shall we succumb?
Shall they?
He wants to have it his way.  Is he playing?
You may ask, “Which he?”
There are so many he’s,
So many bloody he’s.
Walter pigeon loves his crumbs.
The lovely pecking beak becomes him.
He, so carefree, eating of necessity,
Unaware of death or of his iridescent beauty.
Me?
I carry on with poetry
While radio debates the possibility
Of war, annihilation,
Which or any winning nation,
Madly grinning dictators,
Bad, head spinning leaders…
Glad I’m cooking,
Looking out the window
At my Walter
Eating crumbs.

Walter Pidgeon (September 23, 1897 – September 25, 1984) was a Hollywood actor who starred in many films.

Outside And Inside 9.5.2017
Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin
it's better to stay calm and detached.
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