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Ioan Hazell Apr 29
Many mothers
Too soon demanded,
Silent,
Are no longer at your bedside.

There begin
The hushing miles,
The whispered life of empty fields,
Tonight, the cross sections of homes
Through half drawn drapes;
A leg on the stairs,
Locked hands between chairs,
Wetted cheeks without cause,
Concealed by curtains,
Softly obscuring, drawn
In against your peering.

Loud beside your bed
The life, the vehicles
Go head-lighting bold
In burning rows
On roads leading only into roads.
But more distantly,
Your dreaming figure,
Built in each flicker,
The thousand folding limbs
Hanging on the shaking border
Where speed is faintly noise
And light lands silently to dim and die
Again,
To dim and die
Again
Gabriel Apr 15
I wrote a love letter. This is not it.

But it existed,
you’ll have to take my word for that.
Existed being past tense,
because on the eve of adulthood
I took a glass jar
and my parents’ matches,
and I burned the **** thing to dust.

Which raises a question,
I suppose, of whether
things destroyed become ghosts.
Unnatural death sparking
life again in those same ashes,
a postal service with no return address.

How long before
the subject, unnamed,
would miss what never came?
Or does that even matter?
Yes, I’m asking you
to clarify so far what you think all this means.


Three years later,
I watched as everything imaginable
took shape in the picture of a flame.
Slight movement, repetition, almost,
against a television screen,
but the world became so, so wild,
and then everything was an oil painting
and I was Dorian Gray.

Slow, murmuring, hapless rubble
taking baby steps across my mind,
an experience of imagination
that says, I brought you a love letter,
once, and you crafted that into dust,
so here, take form from ash;
get up and be what you cling to.


I wrote a love letter. This is not it.
But I sent it to fate, to burn.

The fire, artificial, loved me back.
From a collection of poetry I wrote for a creative writing portfolio in second year of university, titled 'Spiral'.
Alien Nov 2020
I mustn’t speak
or the monsters will creep
I must’ve bled
they sent vultures to keep
I wish i could speak
about what my mind leaks
bury my eyes under my cheeks
they sneak a creak
i am too scared to peek
i wish i could speak
of all that i fear
but my voice i cant hear
and so i disappear
theres a knock at the door
my heart hits the floor
my back against the wall
i still feel someone behind
there is someone in my mind
this room'ss key i can't find
everyone lied,
i must hide
the flower that died
and the child abide
though her spine
spiked with sharp edges
and
she mustn’t speak.
Fame Flame Sep 2020
Every time I go under the covers,
My eyes long to find you.
Is it just a euphoric essence, or am I really falling?
Oh! I’m so afraid of telling.
Some days I wake up with your bold eyes staring at me, when I hallucinate.
Some nights you’re just a sweet swimmer swimming in my ocean, when I hallucinate.
When nights are so long,
And I can barely sleep,
I rest upon your figure, when I hallucinate.
You have no name, no face, no game, no race
Only a someone whom I rely on
My chance to escape, a feeling of being loved.
Oh darling, Let’s meet there again,
When I hallucinate.
Roro Aug 2020
Now and then I catch a glimpse

Of a shadow or piece of a thing

Alive but terrifying to reminisce.

Now and then I sense

The presence of some being

Closing in on my ears and neck.

Now and then I feel a tap

On my shoulder or my head from the back.

Surrounded by too many

Always checking

Always wondering

Who's there?

Where did you go?

But to an audience that doesn’t know

I'm alert, though in isolation

and completely alone.
For me, feeling paranoid and manic together feels like seeing glimpses and feeling the presence of creatures from a parallel world. I like to think a small invisible fairy visits me and flutters around my head annoyingly, making me **** my head around and see frightening things that disappear in a flash. Even in the calm comforting solitude of my own bedroom :D
Wolf Towne Jul 2020
****** knuckles
Alcohol
Late night drives in rain fall

Hollow inside
I hate this feeling
It's one that always sends me reeling

Locked doors
Blood shot eyes
I'm starting to feel sleep deprived

Hallucinations
Isolation
I feel like a mental patient

I can't get up
Texts too late
I don't want to do today

Self loathing
Bleach and comet
This time I'm not going to *****

False hope
Everything hurts
This little blue pill just doesn't work
Skyler Ruen Jul 2020
shapes materialize
as the darkness envelops

my mind’s inventions
Troy May 2020
It hurts to have your heart broken
But when it’s your trust that’s broken
It can be years before you are strong enough
To trust someone else

My trust was broken a few months back
And now that I found another
In which I like so very much
The trust is effecting me

Delusions and hallucinations set in
Causing my mind to panic
I try so hard to push them away
But they keep getting worse

I’m reassured that I’m not a burden
That I’m attractive and liked
But at the same time
My thoughts run ramped

Maybe he’s lying
Maybe he’s talking to other people
Maybe he’s with someone already
Maybe he’s just using you

Maybe he’s seeing multiple people
Maybe he’s this
Maybe he’s that
Thoughts of mistrust running wild

I can’t sleep
I eat everything in sight
Or I don’t eat at all
I cry all the time

I see visions and delusions
Of me cooking him dinner
And someone else coming in
And kissing his cheek calling him babe

And I wonder
Is my head really this bad
Am I going to let the past ruin my future
But yet the hallucinations continue

Visions of him holding someone else
Visions of me saying just take me home
Visions of me breaking down and crying
Visions of me that I wish to unsee

Cause you see
I like this guy
So very much
But this mistrust

Has got to stop
It will eat me alive
And it’s not fair to him
To compare him with the past
Monet Echo May 2020
The chill crawls up my spine
Its tendrils of fingers intertwine
I walk a never ending line:
Anxiety that goes on

I stumble forward, determined but weak
I can’t remember how to speak
But from my mouth: a mournful shriek
Will there be a dawn?

Whispers begin to fill the air
They come and go from nowhere
Were they even real? Is nothing there?
Fear has a reek

What brought me to this dark place
What set me on this eternal race
What being or spirit, what face?







Ah, it’s finals week.
A little humor to end off finals week for some of us :) who knew one week could feel so long...
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