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jackie 6d
i hear the voice in the dark of night and i open up the window
but its not coming from there
the dark figure in my mirror beckons me
what is the figure in my mirror but a reflection of myself?
for then i am lying on the floor with a gaping wound in my head
this isn't how i wanted to die
have a great day everyone
voodoo 7d
I'm here once more, but then again when was I not?

as if my eyes have ever shifted from my reflection. I'm sick of it.

I don't know how long I've been here; this dimly lit trap gives away no time.

all else melts around me, pools into ripples of my distorted reality.

I sit and I watch my face. I long for the familiarity of yesteryears that I cannot trace.

my skin yawns open, wills to consume itself - porous, velutinous, and brittle.

this is who I am, this is what I see:

tyrian purple flesh decomposing, falling inside my bones that split and splinter;

my mind climbing out of my head, fugitive from the skull's prison;

breaths, ribbons of grotesque, not deep enough to last and not shallow enough to be numbered.

everything without is human (decaying though it is), and everything within is dissimulation.

this molten, fragmented un-being doesn't escape my sight. these eyes have cried out for respite -

and yet they exist, the odd and sole constant in the mirror before them -

wistful for oblivion and feasting on fear. what's gone has kept me alive for longer than it appears.

this body doesn't even feel real. my fingertips burn at every touch.

what more shrapnel does this heart desire until it plays out its final beat?
jackie Oct 6
lost souls in limbo
did my soul get lost going where it was supposed to go?
is that why i am empty, filled with nothing at all?
have a great day everyone
NR-MAN Oct 5
Born Apart
O' So Sidy
The Torn Remains
Poor, Shunned
Till De-sided
You should write a poem...
About the things you always do,
About waking up and tying your shoe
About your classes at school galore
About not wanted to do your chores
About not really knowing if you’re good enough,
About being weak and acting tough
About that joke you just said,
About that conversation inside your head.
About your cat
About that hat
About this, about that...
Yeah, you should write a poem about that.
Shoutout to all the people in my life who I sincerely love who constantly suggest poem ideas... Which I never take.
Elle Oct 3
there is a person inside of me
and i think i might be that person
like a set of matryoshka dolls
closed in over the others
growing from the inside outward
encasing around already existing layers

there is a person inside of me
many people, to be accurate
and i am afraid i am one of them.

how much longer till the matryoshka doll unravels
and all the people i have been
fall out and hit the floor?
how long until the smiling case
cracks up
not in laughter or in tears
but silently from the inside out

there is a person inside of me
too many to keep track of
each one interchangeable with the next
and i am starting to lose track
of who is for who
(Peach schnapps in plastic cups
I trust you've got nothing but good intentions)
madameber Oct 3
Sit down and watch me
Bend over backwards
And sideways, dividing my body
Into diamond shapes, I know
I started off a little square,
Just a little worse for wear,
But I could make you smile.
Patterned pretty, I was made
To please the eyes,
And I caught yours, and
You held mine,
But something about me
Wasn’t quite right, I’m sure,
Got boring, I’m sure,
After a while my patterns
Weren’t pleasing anymore, and
I couldn’t make you smile.
I know I started off a little square
But I’ve learned how to multiply,
Fold up all that I am
And divide into different shapes,
Make no mistake, I could become
Anything for you.
I learned how to be
A crane, a swan, a star,
Learned to ignore the pain
And stretch myself out farther
Than I ever had before,
Trying to be something more
Delicate, more intricate, pushing
My body to try new things,
Trying to fly with paper wings.
Even as my patterns lock
Out of place and new and old
Creases contort my face,
Watch, my love, I'll twist
Into new shapes, all that I am
Is yours to remake,
And - Why are you apologising?
I don’t understand
Why you'd start trying
To untangle my limbs,
Open me back up into an
Empty square that wasn’t enough.

I’ll sit down, too,
I guess, even though my corners
Look a mess, lines hanging crooked,
Pretty patterns depressed,
But you’ll hold me, anyways,
Close to your breast,
And you’ll smile.
I try to, as well,
But traces of past shapes
Press against the corners
Of my lips,
And I wonder if
I can still smile, too.
with a little more.
How can I get out of this mess
This mess called myself
Breathing but not living
Content yet unsatisfied

The heart beats but it doesn't feel
Filled up but empty
Calling yet rejecting
It forgives but resents

The mind speaks but it never talks
Accepting yet rebelling
Praising yet cursing
It understands but refuses to

A liar
A contradiction
A paradox
That's what I am

— Black Strokes #1 // tired yet smiling
180919
Zywa Sep 24
When I paint my face
I don't become a clown or a Hindu god
but get frightened of myself

I run outside
people move away, they make me feel
that I'm dangerous

it is vibrating in my blood
to the rhythm of the hammers
of the demolition workers behind the fence

In the middle of the city, I am alone
with clenched fists and fire-
breathing curses

no one takes me as I
am, only a policeman stops
me, "Yes, right, I'm okay

it's just paint, I'm almost home
but maybe you happen to know
who I might vote for?"
Collection “Foghorn”
Haylin Sep 24
We have many ideas,
but we do not seem to have idealists anymore.

We have droves of problem solvers,
but we do not seem to have solutions anymore.

We have endless media discourse,
but we do not seem to have dialogue anymore.

We have unrestrained capitalism,
but we do not seem to have money anymore.

We have innumerable drugs,
but we do not seem to have treatment anymore.

We have scores of Baby Boomers,
but we do not seem to have elders anymore.

We have unlimited vacation days,
but we do not seem to have days off anymore.

We have incalculable amounts of information,
but we do not seem to have facts anymore.

We have regular, established elections,
but we do not seem to have elected officials anymore.

We have America,
but we do not seem to have a nation anymore
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