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The endless pondering of Fridays,
Spills into the late night.
Precious time lost,
Losing light.

While the city is in love,
People on the street corners,
Friends, lovers and everything in between.
Here I am on my work week,
Waiting for the 8th day.

Stay with me but no,
Things I wish were said comes back to me.
A burst of tears and laughter,
Trying to douse the loud sirens in my head.

Lost on me,
Todays society.
Unending conversations,
Quotes and notations,
A web of scattered nullity,
Clouds all over my senses.

Here lies.
Flash of a camera goes off and I rush into the shadows, because the picture will look all wrong if I am in it.
Conversations circle my head aimlessly, all connected by a single thread that has slipped from my grasp.
A game of cards that I watch from the sidelines.
Memories are made in front of me and I cannot have a slice of them—they are not mine.
I was there, but they are not mine.
Because you smile when I wave
and I laugh at jokes that I don’t fully understand
and we complain, compliment, communicate,
but you are a stranger to me.
I am a stranger to you.
You, polished jade stone in vicious waters,
yet the waves yield to you
and your iridescence
and all of your beautiful stone companions. I am a pebble who gets caught
in the tide, too desolate to swim back to shore, too afraid to join you in the deep.
I cannot stop fighting the current.
There is no hope for me if I do,
for I will sink, settle on the sandy floor with my back arched and my hands shaking
and join my fellow forsaken, solidified into a gritty brick of aching bones and broken spirits.
I will no longer be your burden. I will be something you do not bother to look at twice.
You will float above me with nothing to haunt you.
But even as I am fighting the current all my life
I am still dissolving
bit by bit.
As though I am destined to fade away no matter how hard I try to stay.
TIZZOP Jun 2020
wings of birds were stolen by the gods, centuries ago
an earth's day lasts for 86, 400.002 seconds
children are roaming in the mind of these lines
they are counting, playfully and without feelings

days come and go, they float through our lives
i wrote about the stages of dreams and dreamt of an *******
the ruins of old poems are silver, blue and red
remains of a day's thoughts, decoded and clear, similarly

it is not wise to count seconds while you are breathing
it is not wise to count on people while they are leaving
it is strange to use "wise" in order to refer to cleverness
people of color may feel excluded by our languages

in german, "white" is called "weiß" and that sounds like "wise"
explain to me the origins of such a word, i demand it
before the river will have swallowed me; i demand an answer
poems come, poems go, leave a trace, stain – and a change

fools are flodding the streets in order to have a five o'clock tea
proudly, they are talking about their old heroes, bearded conquerors
these guys nevah really wanted to dig strangaz, dey killed 'em.
they killed unknown people, they stabbed my dreams

they murdered ancestors because they were used to murdering
they invented words without speaking but grinning
power is an invisible instrument that consists of hierarchies
power is what we see and oversee, power is the origin of wars

wars are the origin of despair; and that is nothing new
wars, though, may be invisible and silent, just in the mind
what is a war, does a war need bombs, guns and soldiers?
wars occur everywhere, daily, within 86, 400.002 seconds

the length of a day is measured in numbers; they are just inventions
numbers are man-made, animals orient on the sun and the moon
humans celebrate planets and write poems about them
we all will surive as long as we keep writing and tolerate each other
Today is a good day.
Sitting in my silence of solitude,
I won't spark a conversation.
Won't fight if I'm the exclude,
I'll be fine with this isolation.
I know I won't become that focal point,
For I'm much too afraid I'll disappoint.
I'm not that shy in actuality, mainly just afraid of letting people down
an aviary Apr 2019
screams of the victorious:
they yell, play, and loudly chant
but i feel abducted
i can't

turning my ears inside out
they sit on a pile of chairs
pile of happy people
no chance

dim empty hallway
the walls soak in my whole warmth
their loud buzzing stings and pulls
like this, i go forth

i'm a gargoyle, stone
to violently walk by, laugh
about me sitting outside
misfit and a half

there's this jet black rust
that forms deep inside your chest
when everyone else's worst
is your very best

dear, one day i swear
one day i swear i will write
a tall text-wall like warfare
about how i sat outside
Saint Audrey Dec 2018
Did you
figure out how to feel
I've bled
Into all the colors here

Destined
To somehow die alone
I still
Don't understand the throne

Reverence
The summit's height
To capture
Finally fading light

It's all over
Before its begun
It's all over

Wonder why I can't give a ****
Something in the air's got me ******
I don't know, I just woke up
What can I say?
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