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Andrew Rueter Apr 28
I used to see cars individually
not as parts but the people inside
those people would be driving around me
and we’d wave to each other
while navigating clear roads
I would recognize their car
out of familiarity
the city has grown since then
I don’t recognize cars anymore
just brands and colors
creating the traffic jam in front of me
as my engine overheats.
haifa audrey Mar 17
and alone, i rediscover my old habit of making out stars from the trenches
and finding the road of your childhood home changed
sky to sky
and you are not    the first snow
but you will witness the snow fight
the boys spoke no other language than their own
they threw, and fell, and built larger shadows of three
inseparable ever since
laughter disappearing into walls
i rediscover city lights flickering off
closing shop, on the bed singing into a screen
‘you will see me later’
psyche Feb 22
You might not want
to admit it
but truth hath spoken:

what makes you stay
is the same thing
that hinders you
from growth...
butterflies don't stay cocooned for life;
they let go of all that's familiar and glow.
I'm caught in a forest
My glass frame is jagged and shattered
I give in to a distant call to rest
And I search for somewhere to lay my head
The forest is quiet
A whisp broke me and left
And I'm alone to care for a grove
I am broken, I am scared, I am upset
Something ahead of me
Trapped in the overgrowth
It can't be!
My armor, my friend, my beautiful cog!
Oh! What have I done to you?
I check it's inner workings
Gears clogged with vines and branches
Iron rusted through
Until I wander deep enough
And I find the source of my distant whisper
My hearth
Once a great and burning flame
To move my cog so powerfully
So patiently
I climb in
And flames long dead begin to burn once more
It melts my glass
And smooths me out
And I lay my head to rest
I close my eyes
When I open them again
I see through the juggernaut's eyes
And I burn so hot from my pain
The overgrowth burns away
Rusted parts shatter away
A plume of smoke billows from me
I am a cog once more
I feel so heavy
So tired
But oh so powerful
A great machine finds me in this grove
And offers me a place in it's inner workings
Other cogs inside, made of shining steel greet me
We grind and toil away
And I feel so at home
After harming and being harmed by a beautiful whisp
Who I now understand never truly understood me
Nor did I understand them
They fled from me
Left me so alone
But I am strong once more
I am so tired
I feel safe and complacent
So I will rest and let my body fall into routine
I will sleep
I will obey my new machine
I will dream
New experiences aren't for everyone. I hurt people and was myself hurt by my confusion, fear, and ignorance. I was then abandoned and now I do nothing but work and rest and while I'm not happy, I do feel steady. I feel safe.
thispanman Nov 2020
This place
It feels familiar
Darkness envelopes me
I stick my hand out
At arms length is a wall
Four corners
No door

I reach above
Right over my head
Is the top
It feels familiar
These wall's surrounding me
On all sides are

I take a deep breath
The air is dry
Despite the walls
Each breath leaving me
Makes me thirsty

Suddenly, there's a light
Seeping through the walls
It was dim
But just enough
I find it
The way out

A handle
Clearly wan't there
I open the door
And sprint through

What happened?

This place
It feels familiar
Darkness envelopes me
I stick my hand out
Four corners
No door
I wrote this almost a year ago, but I found it and I thought I'd post it anyway. Hope you guys like it.
Christian Bixler May 2020
plain shapes
hose, cube, cone
colored homely
Lamp fixtures
Alek Mielnikow May 2020
We finish digging our graves, dug
to what we consider three feet, but
we don’t worry about measurements.

These deaths are negligible.

Coated in dirt and sweat and heaving,
we gaze at each other. We both nod,
toss our shovels aside and walk over
to our bodies. He grabs his by the wrist
and drags it across the grass. I hoist
mine into my arms and shuffle over.

They’re both dumped into the graves,
and we fill both the holes. He walks to
his car without hesitation. I pause a
moment to glare at my grave, but I don’t
offer a eulogy or prayer, only standing
there in silence. I catch up to him, throw
my shovel in the trunk, and we drive off.

He drops me at my home, and I go inside
to find my wife watching TV. My wife? I
blink, trying to focus. Yes, she is my wife.
She says “Hey honey”, and I respond with
a low “Hey”, but she doesn’t look over,
does not notice the mess. I ***** up the
stairs, counting the steps, and start a shower.

As the water warms, the mirror reveals
someone familiar. No, not familiar, this is
me. I get under the warm stream, letting it
clean away what is left of me.

by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet
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