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I never eat at break.
It started with recklesness;
it always starts like that.
Forgetting to pack up food in the mornings
where I could hardly get up.
The first days,
weeks,
months,
I was hungry.
Yet still every morning I forgot,
like an animal surviving in the present would.

Over time,
I forgot hunger too.
Lemon Black May 24
It’s not the lover of your dreams,
but this one’s real.
The conduits of high allpower
were found abusing their good looks
bar stool away. Today
the aftermath aroma is not yours.
But you were leaving anyway.
Air in. Breath out.
Chew slowly, bite-sizes only.
Array of cross sum plays
you still reserve for yourself
isn’t leading anywhere anymore, it seems.
Things are against the odds.
Mind-over-matter vertebrates
in sanctioned silence of perfect command
repurpose tissue to blossom abdomens,
repurpose world around,
yet cannot find a path to escape
the labyrinths of their own will.
No compromise sent down from the high ground,
no chance for unjudged attempts,
no getting off the hook.
Conceptual passions, patterns and templates to prescribe the most proper pace for the reality to follow, only to learn you can stick up your metronomes the places of your choice. Newfound games and redeveloped rules, contraptions cleverly designed to skew the chances in your favor, none of it gets any attention. Quite infuriating. Until you finally give up on your mirrors and find a much truer reflection to see all this conditioning wasn’t fruitles, far worse, it’s you who got conditioned. To realize that this throbbing pain is actually coming from bashing your head against the wall, almost literally, never finding any openings, though there are ways to get around, above, or even through - if the highest level of intensity is the most desired.
So, while I'm here broken & ******                                                           ­                     
                                                                ­                                              
Mascara smeared; she still looks pretty                                                           ­ 
                                                               ­                                                     
Even with that smile in her eyes                                                            
­                                                                 ­                                                
  That ***** is the devil in disguise                                                         ­         
                                                       ­                                                               
She took my love & my pride                                                            ­                      
                                          ­                                                                 ­         
Now every day, I die inside                                                           ­               
                                                 ­                                                                 ­
Puffy faced & pouting mouth                                                            ­              
                                                                ­                                                      
She shows you what love's about                                                            ­
                                                                ­                                                  
She was a habit you couldn't quit                                                            
­                                                                 ­                                                   
  It was me you chose to forget
For all the other women out there.
Caio Gomes Jan 13
Lost in the peculiarities of the crowd,
Searching for identification,
In the warmth of companionship,
In a hug, in the comfort of a smile,
And in the depth of sharing.

But they remain empty,
Suffocated by loneliness,
Shouting within a space
Without transmission.

By such fleeting people,
Lost among so many options,
Passing like Russian roulette,
In search of the perfect alignment,
Nonexistent.

But, in diving into unpredictable moments,
In the whirlwind of scarce and immortal time,
Is perfection found?

No,
Just a temporary relationship,
Built by the strength of company,
Extended by the strength of love,
Often sustained by the constancy of habit
And continued by the convenience of routine.
Yet, beings so diverse in their "selves"
Change, mold, and transform.

Perhaps that is why the constant struggle
For encounters and mismatches
Is so few and fleeting,
Consumed by the fire of passion,
In search of the consistency and coherence
Of the multifaceted and other being.
Attempting to portray the fleeting nature of current relationships.
Antonio Dec 2024
another year has passed, as cliché as it sounds, we look forward to new times
you might feel emptier or happier, even angrier,my advice remains, don't even stress
even if with our differences, one thing's for sure.
we have less time



so cherish the ones you love and give justice to your ideas full of herculean hope.
short few words, will try to post more. probably for me. happy new year and hold tight the light of life!
pierrot Feb 2024
it's always you, sweet child
you take the burn
beautifully
let it mark your hands
and feast on your chest
watch the flames make you recognizable again
coax the deepest wails out of charred, tired lips
oh my, sweet child,
how you've grown to love the fire
inspired by oscar wilde's quote "a burnt child loves the fire"
Steve Page Jun 2022
You didn’t realise just how easy
it was to slip
how you can lose track
lose count and how quickly
a habit can become addictive

Once you get the taste for the hit
you find yourself reaching for it
and before you know it, you’ve slipped
into a dependency - fortunately
this time you’re only a *****
for Lemsip
been full of flu these past few days - honey with lemon Lemsip hits the spot
Nigdaw Feb 2022
I wish I still smoked
**** yeah
It's the ritual
the need to make time
to die a little
opening a new pack
shiny cellophane
the lid flipped back
paper seal for freshness
pulled out to reveal
20 happy moments spent
inhaling, coughing, thinking
the soft packets
where you flicked the
cigarettes out like movie
stars and the Marlboro man
who are all dead now
roll ups, kit form bronchitis
liquorice flavour papers
combining childhood flavours
with adult life takers
the smell clinging to clothes
and hair dragon breath
but we all looked so ****** cool
so adult so grown up
so ****** clueless, *******
on our manly pacifiers
I wish I still smoked
**** yeah
just don't have the courage
some how
George Krokos Jan 2022
The birds in the backyard often look there for food
and it seems they're doing so lately in a happier mood;
it was just the other day when I mowed the grass
so now they can move easily over it again and pass.
Their activity is done habitually each and every day
and watching them closely seems as if they're at play.

They scrounge on the soil with their beaks and feet
competing at times for some bite and morsel to eat.
When disturbed by a sound they fly up into any tree
away from the threat of danger they scamper and flee.
A human presence would be enough to get them going
particularly when heading in their direction knowing.

It's a bit of a delight to see them at play in their quest
doing what they all have to do to survive hunger's test.
I used to feed them some crumbs on a regular basis
which became a habit for me to them as in an oasis.
Together with water left in a plastic bowl for a drink
they'd a few things going for them one would think.

It was only after the local cats caught onto the idea
with their basic instinct, that food or game, was near.
One of them would come around and hide in the grass
crouching there patiently for the right moment to pass;
if the birds were unaware they would fly down to eat
of the crumbs left for them so their hunger could beat.

The cat seizing on the opportunity then would by surprise
spring up and race after them as food or game in its eyes.
There would be a mad scramble and loud flutter of wings
as the birds, escaping from that danger a predator brings,
would scatter and fly away as fast as they could to where
they'd be relatively safe from the clutches of death there.

Sometimes when looking out the back window I'd see
a cat roaming in the backyard in the shadows of a tree;
this would be enough warning for me to raise the alarm
and get out to try and keep those local birds from harm.
I would do this by chasing the cat away over the fence
so the area would be clear again for the birds I'd sense.
_____
Written in December, 2020
Katie Jan 2022
I'm fully aware of risk I take;
Gambling again that I'll even wake,
But the rush is addicting.
Clamping a hand down, inflicting
A state upon myself I cannot
Escape from, time and again I allot
More chances for it all to go wrong.
I'll sing my final swansong.
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