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Astral Mar 25
Here I am.
I’ve always wanted to be
But not for long.

Talent is relative,
And mine is falling.

So I’ll be sent back,
Into confused arms.
They will welcome the love,
Though they will not understand it.
Why am I there?
Why am I not here?

I will try to fit in.
Return to my group of youth,
Look to find it and see it gone,
Remnants scattered everywhere I can see.

I will look for open arms,
That closed for me a long time ago.
And once I am alone again,
Which way will my mind go?

Wandering through mixed messages,
Solace will be found,
In greying memories of me there,
Until they become memories of me here.

And then I will repeat my cycle,
My human cycle of dissatisfaction.

For what you miss there,
You will miss here.
ame Jan 10
why do you fight so hard with
tooth and nail and brittle bones
when the world does not even
give a **** about how much you have
screamed have cried have proven yourself
to be everything everyone demanded
from you why do you desire
so deeply to show yourself as strong
as fierce as you do when you lose enough sleep
at night your dreams full and festering with
your demons all which are alive and are
dead and teeming with foul whispers and
baleful eyes that you never fail to
see as you pass by any reflective surface and
catch glimpses of sullen eyes people have
said to be so so dead countless times
a manifestation of your flawless ability to
be special smart skilled an ace
a prodigy a golden child with
golden hands and a golden heart full of
rot that was once something pure
something kind
you are sick you are twisted you are
a shadow of what people see what people
think what people want what you
could be had you not been so selfish with the
inability to accept that you cannot be a
hero without being the hero why
are you so angry where does this
rage come from that you treat it like
a weapon a shield a lifeline
a punishment you cannot hold keep
to yourself just as you should
you dive headfirst blindeyed into fire and
wallow madly at the pain and cry
tears hot as blood searing as the pain
you have entangled yourself in for you
have such an appetite for light so much
greed that you choose to ignore how much you
have let the shadows eat away at your soul
you are brilliant you are selfish you are
terrible and dangerous like
coals feeding the light until it
is all but gone you are a
fire prone to consuming itself until
only charred walls remain
a reminder of the child who burned
itself out for all the things
denied from it by the world and
by itself
greed's appetite has all but an end to it

even with a jumble of words i am left discontent with myself
Allesha Eman Aug 2019
I often find myself
Stranded in the forgotten past,
searching for another way.
Send my apologies,
to those that wait for me.
Tell them my heart and soul
have separated.
Now I'm trekking on foot
through the burning sand.
I am searching for tomorrow
through the lens of my past,
time has now disappeared
it must be waiting on the other side.
Watching me lose myself
As I drown in my dissatisfaction.
All I know for now is that,
I'll escape my regrets some way
but not this time, not today.
Letter 5/26 letters to time.
Zombie Jan 2019
Being with u still not having you.
When u feel crushed of being not with that person though that person is with you
Asante' Nov 2018
It was a beautiful moment
Of dissatisfaction.
One where she realized
Does not equate
With serenity.
That stagnancy
Does not yield joy.
So she moved,
Not only her feet.
She moved mountains.
The earth quaked beneath her,
And flowers bloomed
In every crack.
And this,
She thought,
THIS is how it feels
To be alive
cher Jul 2018

not love

not of that sort

the dissatisfaction that overwhelms
overwhelms your soul,
your mind,
your being,
when your body be a traitor;
when it retracts a sneeze from your grasp.

it's a crescendo of buildup! anticipation!
that cadence you so physically crave
your body aches
begs the deities that be
to let you have that ******* release.

but alas,
you were betrayed.
i needed to sneeze
Talia Jun 2018
Life's simple illusion
it's too real
the simple love is just my delusion
but your charisma, it's a steal
I don't expect much from a long overdue love letter
I wanted to be yours
It felt I belonged to you the way I wore your sweater
sacrificed it all and got on all fours
you don't need me anymore
but you still have your attraction
I don't understand, what for?

You were the man I wanted to marry
There's my downfall, my simple delusion
due to disorder, you grew wary
So, here's our conclusion

in your arms, safe from the rest of the world
your eyes were the deepest abyss into your soul
so perfect, now it's just apart of my dreamworld
so full of self-control
But it's far too late for a love letter.
its bitter Feb 2018
Check in impatiently
hauling light luggage -
downturned eyes,
bundled fifties,
skull packed with sickly
sugarplum notions

Stiff key-card door and
three hanger closet -
leave your mittens, jacket,
and conscience dangling

cotton-knit sandpaper
no softer than well-trafficked
threadbare tawny-port carpet and
your hands and feet pretend
not to feel it

a bit numbly,
you notice her standing
with glacial stillness
moments away from
the foot of the bed

Two crooked lampshades and
dim headboard lights
close their eyes when
the mattress springs
first compress,
the air tingling
with dustbunny snowflakes

This room is too dark now,
something like snowblind,
but you don't really want to see
do you?

Frostbite when she touches you
and somehow this bed
is more welcoming
than your own

you'll remember her
february fingertips
and hailstone hair,
a sensation of northerly winds
strange how heavy the comforter feels
sprawled across your skin

you envision an ice slab,
see it suffocate
a slow-flowing river,
and your breath quickens
if only because your lungs
have been crushed

then, just before hypothermia,
she leaves,
lights off,
wallet lighter,
you stay whiteknuckled, lightheaded,
half-consumed by a snowdrift,
beneath the duvet -

your tongue sits confused,
having asked for peppermints
and been given ice cubes instead

and when you finally rise,
and thaw your limbs
and try not the slip
on the black ice
she always leaves
by the door,

Try to forget
you paid
hourly rates
and shed your clothes
that you might find warmpth
in a blizzard
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