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Kairosclere Jun 12
Yes, it was a nightmare
But I haven't 
Left it behind
A few days after
My mom reached the stars
And shone down on me
No more by my side
Yet her presence felt
All through the day
Returning to
A semblance of normality
Somehow able to
Reach across the void
Her absence has left
The dark patch
Over our souls
But pretence
Is something that is
As natural
As forgettance.
And I converse
With my dad
Of trivial things
Like they actually
And I say,
"Appa, I can still
Hear her
In my head”
An alive phantom.
And I sob
Waking up
Drenched with salty tears
From what's real
And what's not.
That’s all i need to say to make something stop
Why care for the things that once mattered in the past
When the ones that mattered in the past didn’t come to last
Honestly, it ***** to ****
We live this life with no breaks nor shortcuts
Suicide is simply an illogical solution
Doing so would diminish my own resolution
I’m growing tired and brittle
I may not be old but i’m hollow
No, not to be edgy in any matter
I wouldn’t care if you went and bantar
If you view me having the lack to emotion
Somewhat of a form of entertainment
I wouldn’t blame you
I invite you to do it
Know that I’ll give no reinvigoration
For your own amusement.
Kindred (II)
by Michael R. Burch

Rise, pale disastrous moon!
What is love, but a heightened effect
of time, light and distance?

Did you burn once,
before you became
so remote, so detached,

so coldly, inhumanly lustrous,
before you were able to assume
the very pallor of love itself?

What is the dawn now, to you or to me?
We are as one,
out of favor with the sun.

We would exhume
the white corpse of love
for a last dance,

and yet we will not.
We will let her be,
let her abide,

for she is nothing now,
to you
or to me.

Published by Songs of Innocence. Keywords/Tags: moon, pale, disastrous, remote, detached, cold, inhuman, lustrous, pallor, love, itself, white, corpse
Monet Echo Dec 2019
I’m here.
I exist.
There’s nothing to resist.
I’m not happy, not sad.
I don’t remember how it feels to be mad.
I’m not melancholy. Not depressed.
Not thinking about what comes next.
Just here. Just existing.
So please stop insisting
That I’m upset or unstable.
I'm just sitting at an internal table.
Watching life happen with an unattached view.
Don’t worry, I’m fine.
It passes with time.
No, it wasn’t you.
I promise, I’ll be okay.
I just can’t feel today.
But... it’s better this way.
It’s just my mental defense.
No I’m not tense.
I’m indifferent to everything.
Yes, everything.
I’ll be fine tomorrow.
I promise it’s not sorrow.
Just let me be today,
and tomorrow you’ll see I really am okay.
I wrote this while having an episode of derealization. If you don’t know what that is, it’s basically when you detach from reality (although much more scientific than that). This is more than just “zoning out.” Its almost like a dream. It’s having the inability to feel absolutely anything. Often times my senses feel muffled. Everything just seems fuzzy, distant, and unreal. Indifferent is the only word I’ve found to describe how I feel in the moment accurately, because every other word I’ve tried implies emotion, and there is none during a derealization episode. Sometimes when this happens I don’t recognize my own body as me. It seems like I’m trapped inside a foreign body just watching life happen. My body goes into auto pilot and acts normal, so usually no one even notices. However, sometimes if it’s a really strong derealization episode, even my body doesn’t function properly and I seem withdrawn and depressed. This poem is supposed to be me reassuring someone who sees me in that extreme state that I will be okay. That I’m not depressed, not mad, not sad, etc. But that I just need time for this feeling (or more like lack there of) to wear off. I wanted to write it with an air of patience, due to my inability to be annoyed by people’s questions while I’m experiencing it.
Proctor Ehrling Sep 2019
I'm barely at home
There's my wooden furniture
These my plates of chrome
A fridge full of nourishment
My marble dome
But I'm barely at home

I've barely a hearth
This a room of my choosing
That there my land on earth
My book shelf for musing
Amenities for mirth
But barely a hearth
I don't have any place to feel at home... Freestyle written in 6 minutes.
blushing prince Sep 2019
where do mattresses go when they leave your home?
do they hitch a ride back to Oregon
that place that you only pitched as an idea for a funny road trip
but never actualized
instead the map with all the pins of the places you've visited
has become the places you'll go and now it's slanting askew  
because your sense of perception is always a little crooked
do they sit by the curb of a dilapidated 7-11 and watch everyone
give them bedroom eyes
is there such a thing as pining or are we naturally drawn to the new?
something foreign that can be learned with time and patience
but the patience runs out like the water in the bag where that fish you won at the fair came in
and when you got home there was only plastic and the rubbery upside down belly of fish scales in an airless vacuum

do they enter through the window and shimmy under the
other dusty things in the attic?
Do they make themselves at home telling you stories of
everything they've seen and don't you wish that
the guests always stayed longer than you could hope for
but forever is not in your cards, it's not even in the receipts
you horde in the kitchen drawer
forever is stuck under the couch but you never check
because it's easier to just sit and think about it
Kenji May 2019
I lie, I deceive, I guilt trip, I am unfaithful.
I use, I manipulate, I cover up, I am unforgivable.
I have no shame in what I do.
It's like playing a game of chess, strategically formulated for the ones who cannot see through.
I love one, but it's never enough.
I need more.
I am hungry for the chase, the game, the adventure, the thrill.
I confess in guilt.
Guilt, my main negative feeling.
Hesitation, I dance with the devil in sin.
Sent to hell for lust and lies.
But hell has a special place for me, the throne.
I have sinned enough to deserve such a title.
So secretive, nobody knows.
My motives are locked, my intentions don't need to be told.
Feeling so numb, so detached, my feelings for you are so gone, I question why I wanna still see you again.
Then I remember, we are best friends.
The trap of getting bored so easily all the **** time, just wanting the next best thing, again, and again.
It's a cycle.
I don't deserve true love.
For I am a sinner, who has confessed my guilt of hidden shame.
Venus in Aries
The Warrior Seductress
Venus: Planet of love and harmony
Aries: Impulsive, quick, bored easily, likes the chase, seeks the thrill, adventurous, aggressive, bold, risk-taker, ***** *****.
Arisa May 2019
don't hold me so close
please, let me go.

i refuse to be owned
by you, by anyone

set this spirit free
before this girl goes home.
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