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Vague,
the expression of response
in a relentless jade,
conjuring up primevals
risen from her house arrest.
She lives through the days of tension
by her own fortitude,
clutching to her privacy
as if a means of escape
to which she can be locked within.
Mendacious moments,
walking towards a primrose path,
allude her to try and smile.
But she knows she need not pretend,
for just as her hair falls casually
over her face,
she winces her pain
into a controlled tremble.
Proposed to glide under
freshly minted skies,
in words filled with undertone
and in serenades
softly played by calendar
chimes.
Written back in 1989.
Sydney V Jan 2
Sometimes,  
I feel like, I’m drowning.  
This feeling–  
a never-ending rush,  
of water, that cascades
throughout
my body,
my veins,
leaving me submerged
from the inside.  
This feeling–  
a longing for the mundane
when I could wake
to the sound of a 6:00am bell
and not,
have it be answered
by a throb
from within my skull.  
Today,  
my mind,  
sags, like telephone wires
swaying tirelessly  
in summer heat.
My bones,  
ache.  
These feelings–  
a second self  
carried
through this tired will
of conduct, I call mine
much like the nails
on my fingers  
and the hair,  
upon my scalp.
A poem for my pains.
Angel Jan 2
I’ve come up with so many words of discomfort as to why I should stay but the only one that makes me most uncomfortable now a days is
I love you
Sara Dec 2019
I can feel you.
Even with my head
turned as far as it
can possibly go,
I still feel you.

From across the aisle,
I feel your chest
heaving
like you're right
next to me.

I move my head to
meet your gaze and
I find your eyes
holding contact,
no shame in your
horrifying face.

I can't help but notice the
ketchup smeared sloppily
down your face,
down your jacket
like blood, and now
I'm regretting the
little orange sundress
I put on this morning.
Isabel Aghahowa Oct 2019
the rag from the third leg is out and the table is wonky
i forgot you took it out to wipe my blood off the marble
the white in-between the tiles is still very faintly brown
and you no longer walk on it without socks  
i’m sorry i tried to leave without warning

sprouting sensations depleting, i’m in the numbness
all-natural defeat in my glassy eyes
through the fog you might see a green of grey
my mutated self is in abstraction and in the form of
splotches of sliced
and scratchy skin stuck to the folds and furrows of our shredded bed
shredded from cries and shivers that soak it, my restless fingers tear it
remains torn like the tendons in what resembles a beating heart  
leaving you with no good sleep

bodies hurt and scar when they touch me
yours is now strangely having to be reacquainted

my breaths, laid out and cut on the chopping board
into slices they unravel and tangle
as they fall into the floorboards
slowly becoming lost and forgotten
i’m caving in
i’ve left you with creases
and without a shelter free from the smell of monstrous
misery that we choke on every morning

where is joy
it seems it’s taken my strength
my joints are weak and shaky
i can’t even stand, its very unnerving
how am i meant to carry all the noises
that weight twice as much
in moments like this
of irregular gravity
i’m sorry i tried to leave without warning
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.
zxndrew Aug 2019
Attempting to break from normalcy
Learning there is much more for me to see
The process may hurt
But there is no progress without work
Trying to break my shell
sushii Jul 2019
and in the words i find
no comfort as i crawl
away to my demise
sad eyes glued to a device

no poem in months
no one seemed to notice
that i missed out on the fun
and that i had nowhere to run

tags and labels
hoping i'll be noticed
but my attempts come to no avail
and my imagination has gone stale

romance is bleak
i'm not sure what to say
care is obsolete
love is incomplete

music is all i'm good for
and that's not even enough
so i sit here on the floor
begging them to shut the door

well, since there is no end in sight
maybe i will end this here
if i may and if you might
turn away if this gives you fright
Contoured Jul 2019
I am not the princess.
I've had a pea under my mattress for a while now,
But you've found no concern in that.
In fact, it's slowly been duplicated.
At first, only by a few,
Then dozens.
Now there are hundreds of them,
Unconstrained by the confines of the bed.
But so long as there are peas,
You will argue them to fit.
So long as there are peas,
I will lie, uneasy,
Though I am no princess.
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