Mongi Jan 10

Sandstorm of Affection

We danced in our spheres
Kept the hope for happiness within
But exhaustion and time came and undressed our realities
Fate became inevitable

With a single blow

We ran into our separate caves
Left the sandstorm to tear down everything that once surrounded us
We survived in our safety pretext
But the sandstorm was all in our element, where it lingered

Throughout our quests for genuine safety
We left little holes
Like those of termites' hills
To peep through as we paid careful attention
To the hope of the storm's immediate resolution
But so sorrily,
The winds were cruelly stronger than our expectations
And the turbulent winds spun violently piercing grains of sand
That greedily and hurtfully clogged our spying termites' holes
And shun us from the only last thing
That the sandstorm in our element had spared
So now we can hope for survival in our isolated darks

Thus, with a single atom of hope left within
Will we ever see each other again?
The cruel wish

Mongi C. Nkabindze

Time, it does everything, from construction to destruction. Reconstruction remains a phenomenon under question
Raziel Jan 9

I am ripping open at the seams, the tears are searing scars down my cheeks,
   One more paper to do, one more sentence to repeat,
Come on just take the leap, write something worth all that is bleak,
   Just need to power through, I was told not to retreat,

My pencil lead breaks again, frantically trying to get more,
   These lines don’t seem to end, is that a reminder for a test tomorrow?
I have problems to mend, and something for my teachers to deplore,
   Just one more email to send, maybe tonight is worth the morning hangover,

We learn about The Declaration of Independence, what about The Declaration of a student's financial dependence,
   And can we talk about the insanity that is the reality of a prison without bars, a prison with a few more smiles with test after test to test the aptitude of whatever is left,
And didn’t you know that the education provided is clouding over our personalities, ask us what we like, and we’ll freeze, we don’t know,
   There wasn’t an answer, there wasn’t a formula, this wasn’t on the SAT, it wasn’t in the textbook, it wasn’t in the notes, what do we do now,

And our words mean nothing, it all means nothing unless its in 12 point Times New Roman,
   Our opinions are pointlessly written out unless it’s all double spaced, it means nothing without a thesis, is pointless without a conclusion,
Our minds are sectioned in tests and notes, our identities are categorized the street smarts and the book geniuses, we are divided by the artsy kids and the jocks, we are divided as men and women,
   We have lost all humanity, all vanity, we have lost sons and daughters, we have all fallen into this insanity,

And these terms are swimming all about my eyes, craniocaudal, dorsaloventral, the digestion of sternal recumbency,
   It’s like these lines are never ending, my eyes are burning, the exhaustion is overwhelming,
How am I to remember something as complicated as this phrase that is screaming nothing but unneeded redundancy,
   But I must come through, I must finish this by exactly one minute before midnight, I feel myself crashing.

1 hour of mathematical curvitory, 2 hours of astronomical insanity,
   3 hours of burning scientific calamity, 4 hours of economic minority,
5 hours of silence and religious responsibilities, 6 hours of starvation without seniority,
   And 7 hours of work that surpases our intelectual and emotional capability,
  
We work and work and we work some more but we really never get to mentally explore,
   Due dates and deadlines, it’s like the quadratic formula and the mitochondria are the only things that are allowed in my mind,
We are trained to move like clockwork, with nothing but mechanical processing and memory stores to our so called searing core,
   These are our soul and self preserving guidelines that are set by the authorities that are supposed to be educationally kind to those who need just a little more time,
Just one more line,
Just 20 more words,
Just get it done, it doesn’t have to be an art of perfection,
After all, we’re only being timed on completion and temporary retention..

Sometimes, days are a whirlwind,
Of possibilities, exchanges, people's faces.
Silently observing; energy stretched thin,
The sunlight sinks, leaving only traces.

You close your eyes after the day has decided to die down.
The weight of your exhaustion, so heavy, you could drown.

But before you have a chance to embrace the dreams that dangle above your head,
It's another day, and another whirlwind at the foot of your bed.

I wrote this a couple years ago - when my youngest child was a newborn. I felt that as soon as I had laid my head on my pillow and closed my eyes; it was morning, and I would have to start another day. Luckily, I get more sleep now.
Ellie Sutton Nov 2017

The tide is pushing
I fight back as best as my aching body allows
But the waves continue to crash
Swirl and smash around my beaten brain
The water wastes my senses
Disorientated, delusional
Drowning.
Gravity has lost all meaning
No up, no down, no direction
My body is ready to concede
To be freed to the whims of the waves and the tide
Don't help me. This will not subside.
I am done.

And when I've near lost all sense and sight
And the darkness is creeping, closing in
And when the tide has reached a new found height
And I'm losing, I'm lost, I cannot win

Then, once again, my Salvation is here
He pulls me firmly from the deadly waves
I hold him fast; he subsides my fear
My lifeboat, rescuer, the one who saves

He steers a true course, he makes a new way
A constant path through the blackest of sea
And all of a sudden, night turns to day;
I see clearly the waters around me

They thrash and they thrive, they chop and they churn
But I am above them, safe and secure
With my lifeboat, my guide, I once again learn:
With him I am safe; my Savior makes sure

So I will hold on to the promises you made,
As long as life endures, I know my lifeboat saves.

A reflection of psalm 61 :)
Fritzi Melendez Nov 2017

I am tired with the feeling of being dismissed, criticized as to what I'm going to do next.
I am tired of forcing myself to choke back the tears, hide my barb-wired stained arms behind a long sleeve sweater.
I am tired of fidgeting to keep my sleeves past mid fingers, because my knuckles are swollen and bruised green and purple from yesterday's misdemeanor.
I am tired of insomnia always wanting to be held by me, being woken every 2 hours as if I was tending to a crying baby.
I am tired of running around and around my brain, always overthinking until I go past insane.
I am tired of how my energy stops out of the blue, leaving me nothing but to stare into the wall dazed and confused.
I am tired of making people run away from my presence, love and hurt and leave me until I'm left too sick to keep myself barely on balance.
I am tired of walking with wobbly and scraped knees, my palms are bleeding with skin peeling off, barely able to write more sad poetry.
I am tired of being hurt by everything and everyone, they say my heart is a blessing, but it has cursed my life since the day I was born.
I am tired of the cruel criticism towards me, years upon years of insecure comments that developed into PTSD.  
I am tired of having to rely on someone else's heart just to make myself feel worthy and complete, I can't help sharing my entire heart just to get it back again obsolete.
I am tired of the sickness that tells me good morning each day, opening my mouth to cleanse my body of the food from yesterday.
I am tired of looking at my skin in the mirror, as my rib cage becomes more visually clearer.
I am tired of breathing in the oxygen plagued with depression, opening my eyes to a vast blur in my vision.
I am tired of smelling the fear raid out of my body, their eyes watch as I shake and choke on my spit as I drown in the sweat caused by my anxiety.
I am tired of feeling incomplete, my hollow heart filled with thoughts of the night my soul fell to my feet.
I am tired of crying on the bathroom floor alone, shaking with vomit dripping from my mouth whilst trying to type for help on my phone.
I am tired of wanting to be loved and adored, knowing full well they'll leave me when they get bored.
I am tired of scrolling through my phone to fill the space of pleasure, because his name is screamed to me until not my legs, but my brain makes me shake as if I was having a seizure.
I am tired of being vocal about my mental illness, if it only brings me back into a bigger mess.
I am tired of ruining everything I touch, shattering like a fallen sculpture, not being able to fix it much.
I am tired of thinking until I get pissed, screaming with every  punch on the wall because I'm alone and won't be missed.
I am tired of dreaming what could have been between him and I, instead I begin to think of different ways to die.
I am tired of seeing my window sill every morning, thinking about how I can just jump from it so I can avoid today's daily dooming.
I am tired of talking without words to speak, instead they're drowned out by wails until everything turns bleak.
I am tired of being told I'm going to be a failure, only because my suicidal thoughts have made me unsure.
I am tired of the pressure for me to do better in school, knowing they are just going to insult me for being an emotionally unstable fool.
I am tired of the tears kissing my cheeks goodnight, only to knock me out with the help of the looming monster that is impossible for me to fight.
I am tired of feeling and being weak and fragile, telling myself I'm strong are only words filled with false hope dripping with vile.
I am tired of the days I feel happy and alive, whilst also telling myself this is temporary and will soon deprive.
I am tired of my mouth being sewn shut as to not mutter a single word, trailed off when it finally unravels to people who refuse to have me heard.
I am tired of the numbness in my body after I break down, realizing the man-made tornado had once again ripped into my lonesome town.
I am tired of being alone and having no friends, because I'm still trying to heal from the knife twisted deep into my spine from the last person that wanted my life to end.
I am tired of keeping myself in captivity, when I know that I can free myself to feel amenity.
I am tired of the bipolarity in my decisions, always asking to be left alone but cry when I'm not given attention.
I am tired of being the family burden, an annoyance who can never do right with flaws that can not be undone.
I am tired of getting tangled into the constant mess I put myself in, they say I keep doing this to myself as I place my problems on my head with a pin.
I am tired of being tied up to the strings, in which exhaustion plays and moves me like a puppet's unescapable fling.
I am tired of being tired all the time, it's becoming so hard to find words that rhyme.
I am tired, I am just so
Tired.

Lately has been nothing but terrible outcomes and I feel worn out and exhausted. I don't know how much longer I can keep these shallow breaths going.
Izlecan Oct 2017

I am defaulted,
For I seek congruity
Of heinous hums that stifle my scream;
At night when the gloom falls under my pillows,
Crawling beneath to cloister itself around the iridescence
From a light, it never shone
I am defeated
By those shall be bound to defy;
Shall see the hues of tomorrow, the cues of a spectrum merged within itself.
Darkness quaffs down the chaos sleeping on the tip of my tongue,
Attenuating a minute of clarity:
Privy to those whose scream echoes within tangled sheets and stuffed mats:
Screeches, as if a knell,behind the murmur of the room..

Abbie Argo Sep 2017

i am the insomniac's day dream
but i am tired of carrying your bags, too
i am exhausted from cradling your face, shushing and swaying and singing lullabies
whispering secrets kept out of apathy
deaf ears and blind eyes and scrambled brain - sunny side up at three in the morning
i am so tired that all i want to do is run and jump and yell and ask why things happen the way that they happen
who set all this up and what do they want from me
what are those noiseless sounds that fill a dark room
why did you take my charles bukowski book when you left
fingerless hands paw at the missing pages
but there isn't anything there, not anymore

Tony Ortiz Sep 2017

I know life is chaotic, but this is getting crazy.
Due to fatigue from work, I'm always feeling hazy,
And I'm being made to pull the weight of the lazy.
Not to mention, the babies mom is scazy.
I can't partake in my herbal remedies any longer,
And due to that, the bad nerves are getting stronger.
I don't think that thinking is getting easier,
Now that my life is becoming a tragic crowd pleaser,
I'll ride across the ocean on the head of the Titanic,
And before hitting the iceberg, hit the alarm and cause the panic.
Maybe this time around, I can change how it goes,
Maybe this time around, I can make it rain instead of snow.
Maybe this time around, I can cut the brain to the show,
And show all who oppose me just how low I'm willing to go.
I'm in a staring contest with the sun,
Waiting for what I've seen and been through to be undone,
But mother nature must have some form of a different plan,
Because I feel about as bad as a ran-over tin can.
Nothing works the way it should've been,
And I'm stuck in an endless cycle of sin.
I'm caught between being a warrior in the streets,
And being a producer of life changing beats.
Nothing matters in this world unless it's given meaning,
I haven't fallen since I got up, but I started leaning.
I'm tired, and the concrete bed before me looks cozy,
And I don't know how long it'll be before life tries to dose me,
So with the last bits of consciousness I have left,
I press charges on life for it's
Energy Theft.

Katie Sep 2017

All alone in my sorrow
His stench surrounds me
I try to close my eyes and there he is again
I open my eyes... he's there
No matter what I do he's there
Like cockroaches climbing all over my body
I wanted to sedate myself and lay in bed all day
Moms don't get time off though
The days are long, the work is endless.
I tried to shove food down my throat to fill that deep hole within.
Didn't work, made me nauseous & in pain.
The voice within says...
You deserve to be in pain.
Take it you worthless piece of crap.
I agree, as I do what I'm told.
Vomit on my hands, vomit on my face.
Surely this is the look of a piece of garbage.
I feel better for a split second as I was able to subconsciously vomit my feelings.
I wish I could vomit the memories that haunt me.
I wish I could suffocate my feelings like the thoughts suffocate me.
In this moment I give up.
I'm tired of working hard to be better.
People don't want the real me.
They want the me that they want me to be.
My authentic self isn't good enough.
I drink my sorrow away.
For a moment I'm able to escape my pain.
I feel high...
Enjoy the moment, for you need to get back to battle very soon.

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