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Charleigh Huston Sep 2020
Am I a MACHINE?
For I feel;

automatic
broken down
dull

There’s no
Repairs to be done

I am a Machine -
Full of bolts
And scrap
Driving me haywire
Until;
I don’t work anymore
Anhedonia - An inability to experience pleasure from activities usually found enjoyable.
dailythoughts May 2020
… and then he massaged after months

my heart lost its rhythm  
my mind lost its focus

my fingers lost their control
my eyes lost their dullness
Hannah Christina Mar 2019
That weight in my head
like honey in a jar
Dripping pain against insides of my skull on whichever side I roll
It's heavy, but floating
like black and sluggish cloud
Dripping, dizzy
Caused by dehydration, maybe stress,
or else the tears I never cried are staring to solidify.
I had a headache.  It's better now.
JJ Inda Nov 2018
Pale light
shines down
reveals the blank page.
Nothingness; an opporunity
- infinite.
the fool rushed in,
fiddled with some words,
adding up to nothing.
That’s the worst of it;
light wasted
and ink
and paper.
Turgut Berk Oct 2018
A taste like a hay,
Nothing satisfies
No one can save me
From my ability to realize.
Internal combustion takes over me,
As I stand on my own;
Trying to keep me down all the time I had myself shown.     
So, save me from this, make it end? I thought I'd say;
“No, I’d do everything to keep you breathe instead of to live.” It said.
the unbearable dullness of life.
ConnectHook Apr 2016
✿   ✿   ✿


Haiku is not true

poetry by any means:

formulaic = dull

Take a haiku (yawn...)

a  poem a day for NaPoWriMo2016

www.connecthook.wordpress.com
Anjana Rao Dec 2015
They strung me up.
Not by the neck,
that would be
too quick.

No.
They intended
a slow torture for me,
bound one foot,
bound my arms.

I heard a voice:
Escape is possible
if you want it.


And I was alone.

At first I struggled.
Swayed back and forth
from the wind, and the weather and the
pain,
to no avail.

But eventually,
I learnt to just

Stop.

If this was my life,
So be it.
I was not going to provide
a show of my misery
to any God.

I saved my energy,
learnt to live with seeing the world
pass me by,
learnt to see things
from a different perspective.

Torture?
This was nice,
relaxing even,
I could hardly feel the pain,
could block it out
almost entirely.

Perhaps this is what I wanted
all along -
an eternal break.

Fool that I was,
I failed to realize
the torture was not physical
but mental.

Slowly I grew bored
in contemplation,
in limbo,
in apathy,
in atrophy.

I remembered the voice:
escape is possible,
I remembered
everything I wanted to do
everything I still yearned to do.

All the beauty and the goodness
and the possibilities of Life
made me ache,
and I could not block it out.

Suddenly I saw:
this was not torture
but a test.

My time of suspension is up,
These are but ropes,
not chains.

I know the way out,
and I am not afraid.

There is work to be done.
Inspired by the Hanged Man card in the Tarot of Ages Deck, some of the words I used to write this are in the tags
Deisphorios Aug 2015
No matter how bright their eyes shine,
There's always this dullness in them that whispers,
"I'm bored with life."
They think I never notice.
But I do.
© copywrite Ashrah
because why not
thoughts at 1:20 a.m. amaright
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