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Nylee Jul 8
i expect today a sad day
a silent day
a tiring day of waiting
it is calm
with its restless way
the unknown
creeping up on my face

the first half, left up
the next right, the second call
a building floor
every home in discord
a frozen time
clock moving its hand hour
the patience
is just a thread long

the work is third cup done
the coffee cold
a look into cynic's mind
it is hopeless pit
wonder when star's align
and time be right
it has turned out plain and trite

a bare notepad,
my current head space
working for what
the life is continuously stale
it is mundane
at boredom's highest scale
i should shut down.
Memories like broken glass
                     fill my heart                    my sensible soul
                                    shards of you
                                                                     remain
                  Tattering this perspective
                                  Leaving a broken person
                                                       behind                        these eyes
                  This Kerouac perception
                                       mounted on confusion
               for                                                      feelings left
                                          undisclosed
            Baffling me like a child
                                                         Thunder and rain my
                    only solace
                                                       dark clouds             my psyche
mutually bound
                                      Like hurricane Galveston
   ripping apart               these thoughts                 these transgressions
                                     mortally comforting
          like cigarettes on Sunday
                                                             reaching forth      
               grasping at straws                                   so they say
                                                 they always say
but do they feel                                                  as I've felt?
                            alone                &                 tempered
                                       as glass
the glum periphery                                engulfing
                                        melting me down                     eating away
       into a pool of nihility
                                                   to harden              to break these chains
feels outdated          unscripted nonsense
                        in the background of my memories            souvenirs
      a setpiece             based on untruths

created        
                 into
                               this
                                          sheer              crystalline              matter

They call
                                                    Glass
Are you anxious or excited?
Perception tricks
same headspace ticks
Stretch beyond the point of comfort
fearful of the pain it brings
Persist the test through fight or flight
response is timed
Allow for growth
gain knowledge and engage
With experience we evolve
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Kriti Gupta Aug 2019
do I owe the world for keeping me alive
staring at the ceiling, staring up at night
twisting away at my insides
towers of disappointment, my battle cry
chitragupta Mar 2019
No need to knock
I don't mind
But I request you not to
carry the lantern inside

For I am afraid of the light
and this is the only place left to hide

My sleeves unfolded
Do you mind?
To conceal the cuts on my skin
and the stench of necrosis alkaline

Yes I am afraid of the light
and this is the only place left to hide

If you seek welcome
in my mind
your heart must bleed darkness
and restless should be your eyes

Are you afraid of the light?
Come, friend - this is our place to hide
I may not be able to show you the light.
But I won't turn you down when you need a place to hide.
Jamie Greenway Mar 2019
Oh to be self absorbed.
Floating through life thinking you’re the only one worth giving a **** about.
I’d feel sorry for you if you hadn’t suggest it yourself.
Control your illusions of grandeur and I’ll control my contemptuous ramblings.
You’re so vain.
You probably think this poem’s about you.
Sorry for the slightly aggressive tone, just needed to get some feelings off my chest about some of the people in my school. It’s been playing on my mind recently and what better way to release those feelings than through some good old fashioned poetry XD
Colm Mar 2019
High ceilings breathe better
Walls of nothing or all
Speak loudly without ever having to scream

With balance hinting at perplexity
And a defining edge to rest your head
Surrounded by most of these

Just as the minds eye needs a self reflection to see
And the breath within needs also to breathe

Outward
Honest
And openly up

And such high ceilings are perfect for these
Headspace
chitragupta Mar 2019
The sunset by the sea
My feet naked, embedded
in the sand
As the waves greet me with ferocity

Punching back with clenched fists
Saltwater foam, elegant comb
through my hair
The ocean with all its depth condescending

All the colours of the universe in
a sky tainted, so gloriously painted
like a fresco
Of an olden cathedral I'd never seen

Sweat and salt and sand in my clothes
My eyes swollen, their whites stolen
unconsciously
Innocent are not the tears of the sea
---

Slow as the waves recede
with the retreating tide
So does the venom in my veins
and come loose the nails in my head
The shore sprayed with new hope
The night sky of a new moon arrives
Darkness heralds doubt
Yet I'm relieved to be
in the absence of the light
that seeked to
blind me last night
Went to my grandma's place by the sea.
Needed a little headspace, and a lot of grandma's cooking :)
I feel light after spending an afternoon at the beach, letting the waves hit me.
And all this without a single smoke!
jee Feb 2019
the brain and mind are not the same thing.

a brain floats, suspended,
down to the tips of my toes
and the blue rivers underneath my skin.

it is a box; simple tasks and quiet construction.

the mind has no such manuals.

it sees baboons in filtered skylights,
eyes as red as the blushing dawn,
gushing about over the hilltops of my shoulders.

it sees stop signs in the glass cracks
of my wooden closet door,
where the dark seeps around the green-light-go.

it sees fingertip to lip,
raccoons at rusty roadways,
Remus and Romulus locked in eternal combat;
preserved in the grains in the cherry tree trunk.

the brain is in the head,
but the mind is somewhere a little above;

hiding away in a doomsday bunker,
loud warnings burning the air,
bathed in cobwebs and blue lights.

away from people who haven’t quite learned,

that the brain and mind are not the same thing.
they say mind over matter. but mind is the matter. it matters to the creaks at 4 am and the cries in the bathroom stalls.
Abigail Hobbs Feb 2019
Silence filled the night
Waiting for the sun to come
Still bathed in moonlight,
a dreamer dreams not only in slumber
but in broad daylight
Head above, in with the sun
02/11/19
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