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Lesley Oct 2016
I’ve burnt my tongue
On the ashen words
forgotten past
Forgotten year
the bitter-sweet
Destroying
the dark past
Up in flames
I see the writing in the sky
I see the writing on the wall
Social graces social falls
White noise
Amber hate
Static whispers crawling deep
Keep the dream slow and sweet
Nine fathoms deep
a buzz and rush
I feel the situation hopeless.
You claim ‘Love’ but what is That really?
my fingers are numb
Love is no reason or excuse.
One must feel love to accept love-
and I do not feel or believe in it.
Everything is shutdown. Out of order
Come back tomorrow.
Try again. No pass no admittance.
No crime or punishment.
No smiles or tears with me.
A blank wall. Cold brick.
Cracks shored up again and again.
A full time job shoring up these cracks
Crumbling cave ins
I think of you everyday & often still.
I cry when I see love stories & heartbreak.
I cry when I hear 'there is always hope.'
I had so little faith & was so afraid.
I never wanted to hurt you.
I hope you can forgive me giving up
losing hope.
I am still in love with you.
I pray now those feelings fade.
Love doesnt thrive in the dark
gathering dust
but set free a proclamation a declaration
a truth shone in light
. No shame.
No closet feelings buried ;
No whispered desires and intentions
Faith?
The illusion crumbled in my hands
and faded from my eyes.
I could not SEE
how we were supposed to BE
Too many lies weakened the line.
So weak ripping easily this love line
no longer yours or mine sayonara
love mine
love line
Its all Hay wire
a fine Tangle and bind
Be so kind & hang up
your hang ups clashed with mine
no nurture no teddy bear cuddle
But sharp cuts
a twisting jumble of words lost in the rumble
Lost in rhyme
delete unfollow block mute ban hide
I still know your alive.

© Lesley Wood

https://soundcloud.com/royalejelly/haywire-ft-lescelin
To hear recording:
https://soundcloud.com/lescelin/haywire
Kyle Kulseth Sep 2016
The noise of Fall is deafening.
Tie your shoes and grab your coat.
You shouted 'til your throat was sore.
I watched the seasons
          change from where I stood
          in piling snow.

Listen, friend: I've got a few bucks
and some reasons in one fist.
In the other, got some memories
          and the lining
of my pocket in a grip.

Do you wanna fight the cold off
               with me
          and a couple drinks?
I'm thinking one good weekend
and a friendly face could save this.
Blame this time that's piled between us,
               blame the
     deep snow as we sink.
Call me up and maybe we could
scan the skyline, eyes unblinking.

And I know it's been a long time.
Bills tied hands, time clocks grabbed throats.
You've floated, changing hue on wind
gusting. I'm a name
             you half forgot
          ****** in the snow.

And I'll be gone come Spring time,
with my lowbrow jokes; my crude reminders
of the sharp angles
          of the letters I use
          to spell my name.
Kyle Kulseth Aug 2016
The nuts
and the bolts
of your automatic habits
programmed scowls and slowing reflexes
               keep you
     matching wits with no one
               every night.
             And you keep
slipping
     back into your 6-month rut
     with your cold sneer,
      hands in pockets,
      your shrinking bank account
           and swelling gut...

The Mountain Lines meander,
you're just killing time and brain cells.
Ashy days are tasting bland.
Bus routes circle back on themselves
          like your footsteps every ******* night,
          this town will raise its hand,
          you'll retreat into familiar flight.

                                                      Cr­inge
                                       'cuz it's so easy.
                                                       Cringe
                     at what you have become.
     Come back on your loop repeating.
                                 Potential's mocked.
       You're numb and deaf and dumb.

And you've never surrendered.
But that's not the same as winning.
Pinning hopes on snapping out
of it and sleeping hearts on sleeves.
          Heavy footsteps every ******* night,
          a walking metronome
          passing cross-streets just to pass the time.

Your dull,
aching eyes
that you peer through every sunset--
programmed scowls squinting through preset acts--
               keep your
       dulling wits all silent
              every night.
           And you'll keep
walking through days like turnstile gates
and send each night on down the line.

Send each night on down the line.
Swanswart Aug 2016
The bubbling bits, the melted crayons,
the wads of cellophane,
the loogie hocked up,
accidentally,
on the face of a loved one.  
the picture booth refrain.
The K mart moment, the screaming kid--
your kid (your screams) your blue light special in aisle
number nine, #9, no. IX.
The bar code ritual,
the magazines, the chamber, the Better Homes
and Gardens, the tomato worm majesty and sci-fi reality;
the 45 that skips, that skips,
that skips
the rubber cement execution.
The antiques, the answering machine genius,
the message,
the quit.
The key that would never fit
(even though it was really the right one after all.)
The said and done, the leftovers, the flat screen TV,
the belly in effigy, the remote,
the space in between
her ears and her heart.  
The cards, the paper cuts,
the canopy of foil on an ancient afternoon.
The bar room, the bare room, the broom swept
corner of the attic.  
The memories, the empty frame,
the carousel stare into the light.
the left behind,
the clouds in the sink,
the feeling you get
when you let
the microwave
be
a weapon.
K Balachandran Apr 2016
At a table set for two,
        in a quiet corner,
they sit across;
       an emotional sun
sets acrimoniously
       behind them.
She goes on munching
     something in silence,
never once lifting her face,
    to make the picture perfect.

He sits there, like dumbstruck
    not a single moment
taking eyes off her pretty face,
    as if, she'd vanish if he does.

Entwined in a
      mutually absorbing deliquescence?
Or each one beyond
     the reach of other's mind?

Over a cup of coffee
    going  too cold, to drink now
an intrusive character
     idling on the table next
staring  alternatively at both
        inanely wonder:
"The beginning or the end?"
hannah andersen Feb 2016
Hi, my name is anxiety! This is what I do to Hannah.

First, I love making her stomach clench up so that she feels like screaming! That’s the best way to start.  

Next, I start tensing up every muscle in her body so that she wants to throw a chair across the room. That’s so much fun!

After that, I make her cry. YAY! Runny mascara is a great look on her.

Then, I decide, hmm, why not make her want to disconnect from the world and hide under her bed all day? That sounds really relaxing and nice.

What happens next, you ask? Oh I make Hannah so angry and upset that she starts taking that anger out on the people around her.  They all deserve Hannah’s pain, right?

Ugh, I’m tired now. I guess I’ll just leave Hannah alone so that she can feel all my actions for another two to three hours.

Thanks for your time! Maybe I’ll come hang out with you soon! ;)
Ryan James Oct 2015
You ask me why we never talk anymore
It's like you've erased from your memory
The fact
That we never did
Maybe you don't remember
The days that you told me
That I was worthless
Maybe you've forgotten
That December afternoon
When you manically drove full speed
Into the car ahead of us
And cried of disappointment
When you found your family
Still breathing
Or perhaps you can't recall
The Friday night
When I told you that I wanted to take my life
And you went to the kitchen
To hand me a knife
Maybe you think
That your newfound success
Makes you a better parent
Maybe you've convinced yourself
That envelopes of money
And elaborate gifts
Will heal open wounds
And fade tattooed scars
Maybe in your mind
You've rewritten the past
But I'm stuck on a page
That I simply cannot turn
What happened to us?
When did a real face to face conversation
Turn into a text message
When a phone call is considered showing up for a friend
Instead of driving the few minutes to see them
No one wants to settle down now
Everyone just wants the next best thing
A new love interest instantly at our fingertips
How could we resist?
So we let ourselves become consumed in it
The false sense of community
While never really feeling any real connections
Always obsessed with how we’re seen on a website
Disregarding those in front of us
Self gratification is at an all time high
We fuel it by the millions everyday
For those of you like me
You might feel this disconnect
Maybe you try to change it
But friends don’t understand
That guy you liked already moved on
Not like he really knew you anyways
Always stuck to a screen
You are one of the rare and few
The ones that stand for something real
Someday I hope to see a world where we are freed
But until then...
Just text me.
Akemi Aug 2015
Smoke under your clothes
Who’d know?
Summer died beneath you
In some apartment we ****** in
5:23am, August 2nd 2015

Where did you go?
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