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G Vermeulen Aug 31
The process of loving
It hurts to my bones
And I try to toughen
Though it all feels like traffic cones

Those cones I place down
Attempt sticking to one path
A road leading to a town
Where love doesn’t have as many rules as math

I don’t need love
Is what I heard from a friend
But it sounded so rough
Since I see love as a godsend

And I know it is a constant pain
Watering a dying crop
With my efforts in vain
So why don’t I stop

Stop nurturing that flame
Banish out that feeling
Switch to a different lane
Maybe start healing

But I cannot heal without love
I’d miss the ecstatics
Life would be so tough
Empty like an essay without its appendix
Carlo C Gomez Jun 13
~
she's thunderstorms.
she's asphodel meadows.

I fall outside of her
into the suburbs of askew,
where she hides behind
happy occident, where she
lives with the afterlife of a man,
but is in love with a scientist.

a jaded thing, she likes
to drop anvils on her
husband's head and blame
her fragile scaffolding,
she wears the wreckage
on her face, it's far easier
than admit her own fallacies.

before the children came along
she was able to pour some
of her own frustrations
into these knotty tussles.

now the midwives have left.
now misadventures in her
own backyard commence.

no hiding place down
the front of her,
the remaining secrets
come from underneath.

but if you trust her
and go along, she knows exactly
where to lay her hands.

~
Jeremy Betts Mar 30
Life can seem like a nightmare
I'm afraid of all of the time
I release my flair in the night air
Noticing all the fear is of the same kind
I more than recognize the familiar glare
The eyes looking back at me are mine
Aware that I'm unaware
Fair or not,
Witness my paradigm

©2024
lucidwaking May 2022
---TW: themes of self harm---


I'm hungry,
******* hungry.
I'm not really in the mood
For the moldy apples in my fridge.
My brain is hungry though,
******' hungry.

A nagging, a pulling, and a tapping.
The urges crawl to and fro in the back of my skull,
Like drunken, confused spiders.
I roll my eyes back
To take a peep at the spiders,
And I stare at them for a while.
Their clumsy crawling is mesmerizing;
I can't look away, even though I want to.

The stomach growls,
The skin quivers,
And the aroma rises.
The blood running in my veins,
Along with the goosebumps on my skin
Are tantalizing.
Why does it smell better than any actual meal?
My thoughts begin to narrow in on my hunger,
On my skin,
And on my hunger,
And on my skin,
And on the box cutter,
And on my hunger,
And on my skin.
Eventually it's all I can think about,
God ******.

I bite and groan;
I bite and wail.
The guilt consumes me,
But the hunger consumes me
With an even sharper bite.
Not actually about cannibalism - I was using that more as a parallel to discuss the themes portrayed in this piece. It was a tough one to write.
Anais Vionet Feb 2022
Have you ever been so infatuated with someone that you thought you’d die? My memories are fresh - and embarrassing - there’s no sense of time’s distortion.

I was twelve and we were living in Shenzhen, China.
When my heart went off like a grenade for this fourteen year old boy.
I was so beguiled that I started writing poetry - always a bad sign.

I was exposed - turned inside out by it;
like my guts were hung out for birds to peck.
I writhed in that particular, lonely agony.

All I ever had to offer him was my helplessness.
He didn’t take advantage - I think I scared him.
I wonder what memories he took from me?
BLT word of the day challenge: Embarrass : "experiencing a state of self-conscious distress."
Ron Gavalik Feb 2022
The last generation
asked for success.
Our generation
asked to be left alone.
This generation
asks only to mitigate
the pain.

–Ron Gavalik
Nicole May 2021
Tawny days hanging from the sweet autumn breeze are sheltered in corners of my mind I just can’t dare to go to. I hide from them, never closing my eyes—never looking inward. I open them into another haze, though. The dimmest streetlight in the most darksome alley. But between blinks, my eyes burn in golden, and images of remote places flicker in.

Patches of brown leaves on the ground, fragments of Shakespearean poetry carved on trees, a lonely grove between mountains, and a magic lake by my hiding place…

“You would never understand,” I had said to him after weeks of sleeping under willows and sneaking in the cottage through the window. “You don’t know what’s it like to be chased for crimes you didn’t do!” The soldiers had been drawing nearer to the towns about, and I had been left with no choice but to flee from the fate that being an outsider threw at me. “Don’t go,” he had said before my fears revived in my head, killing all peace.....
hey guys, this is an excerpt from a story I've written.
let me know in the comments what you think of it and if you want to read more of this story.

reviews are much much appreciated.

have a nice day :)
Simon Apr 2021
The lamp is now representing itself in the absence of being semi-peaceful. While having the inner-struggle in just simply trying it's best to get by....
After this very truest representation had sold itself to the highest bidder (being its own inner weakness giving into the symptom, that is "giving up"), without so much as a single plausible (enough) explanation...
Things don't become tolerated (very well), anymore.
After all, it's up to the standards of one's own grief to now simplify the very behavior (in their own sequence, after sequence, after even more sequences that have sheer luck tied to them without hesitation for utter pleasurable shame for the results that clutter the very cog in the wheel) that gives freedom in the disguise for wonder. Wonder...that isn't including its own freedom, as that's just another common (filled) sense illusion, now.
It's the very scenario that agrees that it hast to become free...in order to see its own self for what it had become....
Meaningfully speaking, everything up to this very point in time...comes with an arresting degree for silencing the inner willpower of an inner voice that can't (safely, very well) reach for the outside world (and even remotely reach out into the outside world, like...AT ALL...)! And simply express (for the life of itself), its own symptom. Not only a symptom (or two...) But more the very part as to how, or why, or what essentially became of itself...when it started feeling this particular (and more peculiar way...), where it doesn't know how to handle itself, anymore (in that very dire moment for shameful results). Especially the guilt trip that it starts to feel (all the sudden), when it begins feebling itself over such hesitating tip-toeing maneuvering. But what comes (next, anyhow) with so much as a single surprise...is that there's always a certain something, (or certain someone) truly waiting for you on the other side of a spectrum (where you have yet to truly notice in ALL such forming varieties upon the certain specified number of emotions bleeding itself DRY for the appreciation of finding a solution too it's current problem....)
Once you understand this...or more like correcting the wrongs (that had up to this very moment in time, had made you this spiraling short-circuited piece of machinery, or justful faulty technological prowess...) Gives you the very nurturing desire to bid farewell to your own inner strength. Just so you can now have the very pleasure of now purging past this unknown barrier on the other side of this spectrum that has this very certain (someone) waiting for you...that will then of course, give you that single, (when you least expect it...) RESTART! That had been in an orderly fashion ever since the very beginning (when you first started first experiencing this symptom in the first place). A trapped scenario full of crippling sequences of events!
Descriptions, or even visuals are lost...without defining what a lost light (who's very brightness is increasingly going dim), doesn't even have the very means (as of yet) to truly become recognizable of the ("notice of things"), for simply "why" it's becoming this very way, in the first place...?
In this maze of dreams and nightmares
nobody knows what is right or what is wrong
only your heart, true
can tell
what you know you couldn't just bare.

In this maze of dreams and nightmares
everyone searches for their heart lost then found,
lost then found,
only your heart true
will tell
to you what's bearable and what was too much to take.

In this maze of nightmares and dreams
nobody will care but for their own heart,
my heart yours, at some point
I lost it,
I can tell, I recovered it for revenge that's sweet,
Ah, this sweet revenge of ours!
And your hearts, true.

A whole world born out of fires, with passionate flames shaped
cutting ways through the thick cold air of the systems
as it spins and turns and rails...
The same path to existence ... for all our nightmares.
How would you like to recover from your old nightmares and fears?

"She suffered a lot, I suffered with her... on the battle field each of us did their 'job well... duty always something good for something else. Grounds are using, decomposing nature knows how everything can be used for all those flowers, trees and everything we need and love... you'll end up loving everything that got out of ****. (sorry for the choice of such an abhorring word.)"
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