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Iris Mairead Sep 2
It begins as a tingling in my legs,
unpleasant like something squirmy trying
to get out, something huger than my skin,
wriggling, bursting to get free.

Without ceremony it spreads, bulging in
my chest, prickles poking through my
shoulder blades. Suppressing only makes
it worse, I need to run, to fly, to breathe-

"What's wrong?" you ask.

I cannot answer, it is taking all my
willpower not to scream, or punch an
innocent bystander. Would I? Whether I
would or not I've never found out,

I just leave.

"I love you," you say. I still cannot reply,
the tears have been melting my face, but
now they trickle down shiny scales.
External sensations have become
insensible, overpowered by the
overwhelming rage of barely managed fire
within. The sharpness of my teeth meets
an unfeeling leathery lip.

I go downstairs and leave the building. I
don’t know if I remembered my keys. I run
just as reptilian wings free themselves
from my back, they flutter, stretch out wide
at last.

I'm free,

but I still want this thing inside me, this
thing that now is me, to leave. I am
ashamed of it, afraid of its newness and
my inability to control it. It's happier now
in the open air where it can thrash about
without restraint. I let it, no longer worried
it will lash out at something or someone

We fly far and long, my arms and lungs
ache, but still the fire burns in my whole
body waiting to be unleashed. We soar,
sore and angry until suddenly I'm alone

I look down but I don't need to look to know
the scales are gone. My lip feels soft again
beneath my rounded teeth. The wings still
flap but gentler now, quietly bringing me
back to the ground then softly folding and
painlessly absorbing back into my
shoulders. I head home.
idrucker Aug 12
ID has lost her identity
There is no more sense of me.
The world's turned scary and dark
Once bright, now, not even a spark
Lyme seems to be the cause
My life interrupted, on full pause
Fear holds me prisoner all the time
Is it mental illness or is it Lyme
So many years so many tears
So many threats so many texts
Turn the light back on to my life
I've endured over 4 years of strife
God see me, release me, set me free
From pain and sameness beautiful tree
A professor's brain gone insane
It is cruel, ironic, and will not wane
I could never have envisioned this hell
A book to be written, stories to tell
Finally...committed, will be its name
Perhaps it is only myself I have to blame.
I don't want to die.  I want to live.
There is little left for others to give.
It is up to me to reclaim an identity
Super ID crushed and I'll let it be.
Ken Pepiton Jul 28
after all's been said
and done
you’re the only one who got it.
How's that feel?
good. right. No question
slow burn Jul 10
As I sit listless,
Alongside the river supreme,
Silent stars gently rise above me,
Kissing the clouds with reckless abandon,
I watch the light bleed and create individual paintings,
As if the heavens were but one giant brush,
Though guided by luck and not creativity,
It seems it doesn't matter either way.

All things are connecting,
Dissected by interchanging strings and correcting,
Paths that most others would not take,
That wakes and creates an empty covered-grounding,
This is what we dream of and must make.

A selfish soliloquy that was written in haste,
Left a bitter taste from the poor and hollow remarks it made,
But it spilled out in every direction anyway,
Until the world left a cloak and dagger in it's wake.

The sunshine blasts my eyes and I am startled by reflections,
Memories of the dreams that we shared that night,
Our children are the thoughts that now follow us,
The remnants of a dignified trip into our own minds,
Alongside the river supreme,
In the shadow of our collected consciousnesses.
Oops I think I left something behind, It might've been my ego
a familiar shadow plagued my dreams
and with her she brought the unpleasant thoughts i left
outside my bedroom door
i told her.
“i do not oppose you, but you had promised me peace of mind
during the twilight hours”
she smiled
twistedly and unnaturally
have you forgotten
that i am inescapable?”
she laughed in cruel, winter tones
“inescapable, yes indeed!”
another frigid chuckle succeeded
“for you see, my dear girl,
i am none other than you.”
Euphrosyne Feb 26
How I'd like to
catch your nightmares
with my bare hands
and put them away
out of your reach.

How I'd love to
take away your insecurities
and replace them
with the wonderful thoughts
I have about you.

How I desire to
rip out your frustrations
and make you smile endlessly
maybe then you will see
how beautiful you are.
I'll still be the one who's ready to listen to your rants every single day and I'd love to love you unconditionally.
Colm Jan 16
Be it called by my own name
I must reply now
Not in haste or anger still
But in active truth most kind
A Tanka For How I Hope I'd Respond
Mark Boschi Nov 2019
when you step into my space,
I hope these walls tell you about the animals that have clawed at my skin
I hope these walls tell you the stories of how i've earned each nicked mark; each jagged scar; each criss cross stitch
honesty is a language I am still trying to learn
I feel a heavy lodge in my throat whenever I speak it,
and that is enough to bring my truth to a record scratch stop.

but these walls
these walls, you see
vulnerability is their mother tongue
their verity bears no sharp edges

and as you journey across the wooden floors and listen to the creak of the stairs
you might hear ripples of laughter or wallowing cries
echoing through with reckless abandon
but do not scatter away

these walls are always in flux -
Shifting and Morphing and Evolving.
there are days when they will splinter and they will crack
there are days when they will stand high and they will stand firm
but one thing is for sure:
they will always be here
and so will I
we had to write a poem about interior design for our theory class HERE IT IS
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