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Simon 3d
Details to start off with, are undeniable. Filtering each other out of comfort, before anyone else claim’s rich detail. This happens when details aren’t rich. Having one script of information lasting for only a few short moments. Details within other details is more of a finite majority then one would admit. Details shadowing other details, to keep prolonging its desire of centering itself noticeably. Noticeably sound? Correction! Without subjected material mixing into desires not including options. Options firing details wrapped into a more cryptic pattern. Cryptic being subjected to overusing the same pattern from before. Attracting an entanglement. Switching off (plain for all to see). Giving more subject matter to what details could commute. Offering more justifiable knowledge on what’s truly never taking place. Details mask true intentions. Away from individuals always on the hustle for every day material. Never noticing their details within details everywhere. Downside is… Thinking there’s just one detail in the picture. One pure piece of information belonging to one base of operations. Vague as the surface is bland. Selfish tidings when noticing more within. Giving entirely different opinions all together. The potential never happens. Details within details are left astray. Until someone finally captures the right spectrum. Giving attention to the alert system that is noticing something odd about majority pieces within majority attires. Pieces joining attires full of typical based labels. The majority is bland. Sensing no time has wasted their own development when never noticing what’s past the first barrier. One barrier existing within one piece of detail. Details try to shadow more of its information. Feeling drowsy in its implications toward oblivious onlookers. Never appointing their unjustified opinions with (perfect picture) that’s unattended. More the shadowing. The more effects start taking on a new shape. A simple way to gain different interpretations, perspectives, and line of sights all in one gathering thrall! Conclusively remaining silent for no one to embrace upon. It’s simply a lackluster of human interpretation when never noticing what they aren’t ready to fully align properly. It’s never a shame, if it’s baby steps to a grander process. Details finally unmasking it’s shadowing effect. Unwinding for majority pieces and attires to appreciate itself finally. Giving presence of self for the very first time. Always to busy reflecting off for others to take in. When it’s those details within itself needing to reflect between its deeper meanings. That’s what it means to be trapped within details no one ever notices.
Details aren't fully knowing, until more information wraps around its surroundings. Finally, able to gain a self-conscious feel for better circulation.
Carl D'Souza Aug 1
Is there joy
in noticing the details of experience?
For example:
When I encounter a flowering tree
I enjoy noticing
all the colours, shapes, sizes and textures
of every flower,
every leaf,
every fruit,
every branch,
and the bark of the trunk too;
Then I have enjoyed
experiencing the flowering tree!
madyson shaye May 29
I.

My roommates dog licks, it’s just what he does. He lays on my floor and licks his paw until there’s a puddle of saliva and residue dog food on my pink Ikea rug I bought for fifteen dollars. Do details make it worth it? Or what does? It’s April and my roommate doesn’t groom him so his hair is completely covering my new maroon satin sheets I bought at a thrift store for four dollars, all clumped on my bed, just like I am in this exact moment. I have no details to offer about what is going on inside of my head, I only know I want to break my bones over and over again until they are better. Until they can offer more, or less, or just take me from point A to point B without the faint sound of crunching anytime I feel something.

II.

I’m not sure if it’s valid, rational, real or not but I felt it so I’m going to say it out loud anyway. I get here each and every time I don’t take my antidepressants, but I got too drunk and puked for 24 hours so there was no chance I was going to be able to down the one and only thing that makes my bones stick together. I’d say I should drink less but I don’t believe I’m capable of making it into a problem, I’m too busy exaggerating my position in all of these people's lives and breaking my own heart when I realize I stand for so much less. It’s usually my fault, I know that. We interacted for 25 seconds outside of a bar we once ****** at before they retreated off to the better, cooler, stronger-***** people I can only manage to feel contempt towards. It’s exactly how it should have gone, everybody tells me at least, I disagree, but it still made my spine curve. I talk like this because I’m completely out of serotonin.

III.

I write about *** a whole lot because I think it’s one of the few worthwhile things in this stupid ******* world. I’m only on this planet still for human interaction, which is why it’s absolutely terror inducing to be alone, but these days words have gotten me nowhere so I guess I’m content using my body instead. If there are no humans left to connect with, does that mean I’ve hit my expiration date? I worry nobody will make it worth it but that goes back to me putting my happiness into other people and I remember I still have to find a way to make these bones better, more capable and durable. I want an independent skeleton and to wake up without feeling the need to check the time. I’m not sure if there is a single person in this world I feel able to be myself around completely and I know that is my fault, too.

IV.

We can discuss the dynamics of the word “deserve”. I deserve more than this, you deserve peace and quiet and a world unmatched, I deserve an explanation, a cover up, a new start; all of these with such force the word starts to feel empty. Like drinking tap water. I remember reading in a poem somewhere about how many months, years, sacrifices it takes to be able to deserve to own another person's choices. Truthfully, we never actually deserve anything from one another. The only thing I am worthy of is these brittle bones. The only thing I have to offer is a constant worry in my chest that I am unsafe. I look around me and feel terrified of the world outside- the wind, where does it come from? These people, how are they doing it? What person woke up one day and decided life would be worth it, that we could create a civilization and a planet to make home for absolutely no reason or purpose and throw billions of people into it as well? I’ve been saying this life is a job I am not cut out for since I was 14. Even the items on the shelf right in front of my hands are hard to grab sometimes and I feel like I should start doing stretches in this supermarket but I am too exhausted. I am too exhausted spending my time trying to get to know who this person is that I am, this body I inhabit, this mind that is unfortunately the only one I have until I can figure out if reincarnation is real, or just something I tell myself to feel better about the bones I’m stuck with. I deserve new bones, right? I deserve more than this, right?

V.

Maybe it’s clockwork; mine and his and her hair on my bed, the dog panting to my left probably out of boredom because he has absolutely nothing to do, getting drunk and puking in the mens bathroom, not talking to them for three days, my perfume and deodorant and body wash all being rose flavored and the knowledge that this is just who I am inherently and the constant fear that that means I’ll never be able to grow out of it. I hammer my hand to see blood, I look at the bruises down my leg and on my chest, I wonder if I don’t take my antidepressants for seven days if I’ll have the courage to test my theory. Probably not, death is terrifying, but I’ll still try to call you and get ignored and I’ll ponder what I ever did to deserve such treatment. Am I too available? Yes, consistently. Am I too much, too loud, do I take up too much space and say the things nobody really needs to say? Yes, yesterday I called my boss an alcoholic and he laughed but nobody else did. Everybody else gave me those eyes that everyone gives me whenever I open my mouth, the eyes that make me feel like my skin has managed to come unglued and everybody is seeing my weak, frail bones I repeatedly break, I repeatedly try to heal, and gawking at my efforts. I put myself out there too much, too. I say I miss you when it doesn’t need to be said, I feel love when it has no business being felt. I crave my antidepressants that I still haven’t taken.


VI.

You say words for shock value and that makes you no better than any ****** white guy but I exaggerate how many girls I’ve slept with to anybody who cares to ask so I guess that means I’m the same as you.

VII.
steps that I am taking
Fabiana May 28
home.

home according to google is

“the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.”

home.

versatile, sometimes strange.

according to me, you’re home.

a house it’s like a body.

and every house, like the body, has a heart.

home, for me, doesn’t have white walls waiting for new wallpapers that match nowadays trends.

home has a beating heart that feeds on stars and moondust.

home has two soft arms i urgently long for like they’re the only two things on this world ever capable of grasping me, sinking me in.

home has lips of an angel, who whisper my name on the breeze of the night.

home has two eyes, two utterly divergent eyes that merge into the sky above my head and make me dream about them.

my home is not a house.

my home breathes.
ghostly kisses . spellbound
You were never
there. The gentle
hum of sugar.

On the tables
are magazines
but they’re blind in
the dark. White coats
and expensive
ties in and out.

You were never
there. The last gasp
unheard before
the vanishing
tone. Wrinkles.



-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)
Naoki B Apr 1
Taking notice to every detail
Every tick
Every movement
Every second she opens those lips
Jotting in the mind not to forget
For fear
For love
For those who can’t remember
Just so when she’s gone
I’ll replay it all
From January to December
The love to always recall
And never forget her
JR Falk Nov 2018
your fan sounds like rain on a window pane through the speaker on my phone as you’ve fallen asleep on video call for what could be the hundredth time, i’ve lost count of how many nights we’ve done this
since we were 16, we have done this, year after year
the sound does not bother me though, and i do not hang up
instead, i pretend you’re beside me as i listen to your breathing
it is steady, rhythmic
it seems that everything you do, you do beautifully, it’s so hard not to stare
you make music when you speak, a pattern in your syllables imprinting on my brain
you see, you make music for a living, but my favorite songs are the way you run your fingers through your hair instead of brushing it
the way your brows furrow when reading an email
how every time you put on a hat, it’s tilted slightly to your left
the fact that each time we kiss, you always peck my lips after and smile a toothy grin
when you laugh and your eyes crinkle up at the corners
your attention to detail, color coordination, aesthetics
how you always make sure to remind everyone you talk they should drink more water,
i love falling asleep listening to you
i listen to the music you make when you aren’t even trying
i miss you
10.22.2018
5:47am
Latifah Nov 2018
She overlooked things,
She saw everything in details,
And details in everything,
And nothing in simplicity,
Which to some,
Seemed complicated,
But to her,
It was easier than breathing.
leah snyder Oct 2018
no birds.
no wispy feathers high in the sky.
only layered smudges of ashen clouds
with hints of deep cyan
as far as the eye can see,
the only pure light
sourced from the few rays of sunshine
filtering through,
setting the world on fire.

-l.s.
free verse
leah snyder Oct 2018
outer space.
a vast expanse of nothing,
yet everything.
reminiscent of my mind.
full of thoughts, full of worry,
but numb at the same time.

-l.s.
free verse
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