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Kriti Gupta Aug 22
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 29
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.
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
Seanathon Mar 17
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

And openly up

And such high ceilings are perfect for these
chitragupta Mar 15
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
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 27
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 13
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
don't inflict me with your

dangerous, idle, self-reflection,

tap out of my headspace

my cerebral territory is not a good place

I don't need to think about my thinking

metacognition is a fruitless mission

I'm telling you now

get out
get out
get out
an award winning poem
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
maybe the words i said
couldn't contain themselves
into their strict meanings
and suddenly
i revealed my headspace

Suddenly you are a part of it
my dark twisted struggle for
a body removed
with a body that won't
will not
move from its concrete place

it's a different kind of silence
one only few learn about
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