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silent

pulled chain click        
stillness

cold air
no crickets              

bedsheets
stale

ceiling fan
still

stagnant fan
no click                    
no pull chain

nothing you can do to move air

left un-         -comfortable

still
yellow wallpaper

wide
adderall eyes
coma
eyes
grey
eyes
dull ***
eyes
*** worker
eyes
hospice
eyes
disembodied
dissociative
upper-rexic
still wood
eyes
watch
the fan
watch the still
fan
you
fan             
watch                          
still                                          


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Saint Audrey Jul 2017
I had the dream again
Last night

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paintings of life still dancing in my head
Bright light fading
Pouring orange hues and dull yellow rays
Cascading down over earthen tones
Dark green grass masking over
Thick as the leaves blowing in the summer breeze

That was how the sun set
Just a few feet outside my window
A view tailored just for me
For a moment

Blades slowly turning
Endlessly circling
Watching the shadows emanate from their continuation
I know

Blowing ever cooling air into my room
I never thought it would end
But the light faded
And what was left weighed heavy on my eyelids

Eyes shut, I found myself
Slipping further and further into the state
Between life and death itself
No longer aware of the confines of fate

Above me, shackled in place
Slanted up, ever out of grasp
Yet, constricting in my space
dissipated, pulling back a mask

My soul was glowing
Eyes closed shut
Flowing freely out of my self
Motionless and clear cut
So well defined
Hung wrong side up
Arms outstretched from my sides

Blissful and permissive
Opened, floating still
Serenity surrounding

Basking in the glow
Traced back to my window
Seeping over the sill
Across the blades of my fan
Blowing life into my form
New motion brought to life
Free of scorn, near reborn
Suspended above my comatose
Form

And what I found
There
On a summer night
Unaware
Of the world outside
Outside of what
I could see
Was what I have come to terms with
A whole other side of me
And from that moment
I have derived something

A feeling
      I'm not convinced
Anyone else has felt this

Just a kid
Probably could have missed it
And from what I think now
Ideals forming around
Negative spaces
And people or places

But ****** if I don't
Still think about
How it felt
To be that kid in his room
With the light
Fading through
A window fan
Yeah
Àŧùl Jun 2017
There's not much to like about me,
But I love the pain in my poetic saga.
Told in first person it ain't a bit filmy,
Of love & loss it's an immortal story.
My love is lavishly poured in it,
Emptied it never is after reading.
And the reader is totally lost in it.
A fan poem about a poem of mine.
Read the saga here: https://hellopoetry.com/collection/13567/the-angel-series/
My HP Poem #1575
©Atul Kaushal
sweet ridicule Apr 2017
now
i have always loved You in black
anxiously tapping your foot on the floor
the one evening I was grateful for the bubbling alcohol in my brain
as You watched me and I watched you back.
the way you pulled against my hands as I tried to make you dance ("please dance with me baby") Your nerves making my heart
ache
we all know i cannot dance.
the car was warm on the way home and you (angrily) chided me
again and again for being irresponsible as I caressed your skin
again and again. sighing.

i kissed You hard --two weeks left baby-- before running, dress flying behind me,
into my dark house. the grass was wet and my heart racing. i told you to
drive safely (promised that I was safe) (promising to be smart)

you fell asleep calmed down and I fell asleep breathless, imagining you dancing. the way You move, moves me more than adrenaline
ever will

I remember my fan whirring loudly with the occasional CLICk.... CLICK...cliCk ... like the random beating of my heart  

...............

the way you take my hands now, "let's dance baby", I am breathless at the way you have grown
black socks and soft hands
You kiss me hard --two days left baby--
Lote Do Apr 2017
Adrenaline pumping
I'm jumping
Foot stomping
Heart racing
Love is it not
No
It is a music i like
I like k-pop.
Angel Mar 2017
I can’t hug them, I can’t even see them
They are the reason for me to live.
I just have to believe.
I thought I was close
But suddenly the chances closed
I and my fandom are inseparable
But meeting them seems impossible.
I said I love you… you can’t feel it,
I cry for you… you can’t even see it
Because I’m just one of your million fans.
Impossible to hold your hands.
I’ve realized,
No matter what will happen
I’m just a girl in the crowd
Screaming loud.
Impossible to reach you.
Lol, this is dedicated to Bangtan Sonyeondan i made this because i feel infires rn
Winter Sparrow Dec 2016
Here I sit, quietly and peacefully,
while the rest are out drinking,
planning their boring futures,
meeting their ‘soul mates’.

Here I sit, wondering and gazing,
how great my life would be,
If I got my Hogwarts letter at 11,
Experiencing the world of wizards.

Here I sit, thinking and guessing
How different my life would be
If I went fishing and found a rare gold ring,
A ring that would bring so much change in the world.

Here I sit, giggling and imagining
How different my life would be
If my best friend was Captain Jack Sparrow,
And live our lives plundering and sailing on open seas.

Here I sit, realising,
Its all a dream of mine,
Just wishful thinking.
About what could be.

Here I sit, not alone,
But with many like me
Wishing that this could be real.
Trying to create what isn't.
404 Nov 2016
My biggest fan
Is like a breath of fresh air,
Circulates the same conversation and
Knows when to cool down, but
Likes to talk in circles

It's a ******* fan.
I turn her on.
President Snow Oct 2016
Fan
I told him
I love him
But I'm not sure
If he heard it.

I'm a hundred seats away from him
I'm a hundred barriers away from him
I'm one of his hundreds of fans.

I'm just his fan.
Dear Calum Hood, I love you T_____T
JR Rhine Oct 2016
You were draped across a girlfriend's bedroom wall
where a cross would be,
your arms held out loosely like an ambiguous invitation,
shielding your countenance from extraneous intrusions
under which she would sleep soundly
in the shroud of your incantation.

Your fallen angel wings beating back bad dreams
slain mercilessly
and falling at your feet.

Your lips slightly pouting, eyes dark,
obfuscating the madness and ***-crazed hallucinations
they harbor.

Hair purposefully unkempt,
disheveled sensuously atop your head,
tufts of hair brushed across your broad chest--

Bare muscles taut and taunting,
placed topographically on the poised temple--
those ready to worship bow their heads
in reverence to the sonic alchemist.

The modern adonis,
sculpted out of the Mississippi Delta Blues
and Dionysian wet dreams--
brought to life with the electric current pulsating through the microphone and its stand upon which you straddle with skin-tight leather pants--

Your left hand around its waist,
your right cupped over the phallus--
your lips part and your cataclysmal eyes
envelop the darkness before you--

Your image,
tormented and tantalizing
in an open invitation
to prostrate ourselves before you
and succumb to your hypnotic stare.

The door opens.
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