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Bryce May 2018
Return late at night
34mph on the gangway
Decimated and tired
rotated and unstoppable

When I come back around the cul-de-sac
the green candle shines my return
Flag hangs big and ogreish
Waiting for something more

I replaced my turntable
Black and wood on wood desk
Grains matched unintentionally

On one speaker I placed my snowglobe
Big Ben tall and wide
Snow stirs when I play

On the other The Capitol
Big heavy white dome
Smaller and wider but still just as lost
Blizzard of turning particle

What mood do i turn to?
Daft and electronic
Queen of hearts and misery
Dance of mad villainy?

33.333333 repeating
An album cover to cover
slip safely in between
read the inherent vibrative tone
glide my eaten fingernail
And sing the songs through my teeth

33.33333 repeating
Songs forever maintained
Never compressed, just expressed
Saved into physical form

33.3333 repeating
Round and round Fibonacci of doom
Spiral totally in control
There is another side to this story I never knew

33.333 repeating
They were going to make movies on vinyl screens
with vinyl tape and vinyl face
Then we got cable

33.33 repeating
Mesmerized by the glide of the needle
softer than a lover's touch
sharper than an atomic clock

33.3 repeating
It will be time to flip sides
Soon I will know no evil
Only the darker satellite

33 repeating
I repeat:
Listen closely and find the spot

Queue it up and fall apart
Amanda Kay Burke Feb 2018
I sit enclosed in my prison cell,
Days passing me by in a blur,
Have I lived here for months or years?
Of that I can't say for sure.

Time is twisted up in knots,
Tangled in a crooked maze,
With no clock to keep tabs on it,
The hours are pulled a thousand ways.

These walls seem like they are closing in,
Carefully shifting and changing shape,
I look for a way out of this hell,
But these bars carry no escape.

My prison bears no windows,
It's doors of steel stand strong,
Fear is tearing down my spirit,
I've been here far too long.

I'm held captive in this place,
A hostage to circumstance,
Frozen by broken regret,
I'm trapped in some awful trance.

I act like a puppet, I'm a slave,
To my residual anger and pain,
Instead of me, my emotions are,
Controlling the strings inside of my brain.

I don't understand why I am still bound,
To the cage, my heart resides in,
Each moment I try to free myself,
I am kept back down by sin.

I am shackled to my suffering,
And these bonds are too hard to break,
The cuffs I wear are cast from sorrow,
And the chains forged from heartache.

I'm imprisoned in my own weakness,
A jail of my imaginative design,
I gaze at my reflection,
I honestly can't believe it's mine.

When will I unlock the exit,
So I can open the door finally?
Maybe when I come to realize,
That i am the one who holds the key.
I wrote this on 9/22/17

Feedback is welcomed.
Josh Aug 2017
I love you
Happy words
Unless, they preced
The dreaded, but
Or feared, however
Both can shatter a heart
And I'm sorry.
Because
I love you, but
There it is
The rest of what I have to say
Is white noise
As your mind processes
That word
But
Still, I will continue
I love you, but I cannot
I cannot do this on my own
I cannot keep hoping for a word from you
Sit here wondering
Pondering
I am slowly accepting
You're here but not
So maybe
When you come back
If you do
I'll be here, but gone, too
Moving, or moved on
From you
Another mess
Elliott Jul 2017
I wanted you to fight for me,
not with me,
&against me.
Ugh. I need sleep
Gabriel burnS Jun 2017
Out of the blue
And into the black
A thought passed through my head
It was you who crossed my heart
And went right out
The exit wound
KB Feb 2017
the sun and the moon and all of the dust between the height of your wings, they used to be full of flight but now I can touch the ice of orange rays and the red of dented craters beneath the pads of my ever fumbling fingers and it gives off a smoke in my stomach that even bullet exit wounds don't leave behind. i'm craving fizzy drinks again to numb out the stars in my eyes that won't stop constellating the white hope in your burning palms, have you been climbing blue fences again? the night doesn't tire often but the last comet that flew by last January the 7th looked exhausted and it had something to do with the way you blinked away fire from the moments you forgot to count
K G Dec 2016
1
In the night they'll find you all alone
The hounds are restless, trembling as they breathe
Roll up the window, here's cujo crawling in
- 2
He writes 666 on the beach's sand
The cracked rungs, send them off to cast
Splintered soles will never pull them back
KG
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