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Nat Aug 2021
My hands feel limp and impotent
My fingers half-numb across the keyboard
I've never felt so thirsty for understanding
But nobody in the world is quite what I want

I'm not going to shut my door
Even if all the cold air leaks out
I'll stare into the frame and
Maybe something will jump out
Maybe it'll all just rot with me
Maybe something will happen to me
Because I can't happen myself
All I can do is stare
Nat Aug 2021
The laundry heap sighs, one shirt less burdened
Ever tense, the afternoon, ever still
Clouds crawl by like television static
Not a drop of rain meets the windowsill

Just a squatter, hidden away
Idle hands, second-hand body
A vacant home, a fragile world
Everything fits a bit oddly
Click a button
Watch the numbers climb
Even if it means nothing
The feeling is sublime
4 lines, 212 days left.
Tatiana Mar 2021
My brother asked me,
"Do you want to shoot a gun?
We can go over safety.
How to load and unload one.
You may never have to
use one in your life
but this is America
knowing this could save your life."
I told you before,
I don't trust my hands when they're still.
If I know the code
to the safe when I'm ill
and how to load
a gun when I'm scared,
will I remember
who I am and who cared?
So my brother,
I fear what I'll become
if I learn this will I
get control of my thoughts?
Will it bring me power?
Will it bring me peace?
Will I be in control
when I turn off the safety?
My brother, I want to know
but not enough to hold
this answer to the question
"When will the pain go?"
It's so finite.
So absolutely cold.
The barrel in my hands
so still with idle thoughts.

Another song I wrote.
Brumous Feb 2021
Another day passes by,
With me not knowing why.

A grin is plastered on my face,
Like a maniac running from something he hates;
yet I still enjoy the feeling of the chase.

The tension made it an ill-looking smile;
then the idea was washed over me.
I feel this way because...

I was useless.

I was useless yet did nothing to solve this problem.
I'll idly do something as I remember all the things that should've been done,

It haunts me

every second,


and hour.

I was a menace,
A menace to myself and everyone;
Felt like an actor reading a script.

But then again, someone said that life and all is like a play
And the world is a stage.

It makes everything feel surreal,
Like a living dream.
"Sometimes people are clouds,
they pass by without saying goodbye"
angel Jan 2021
I've realized everyone tells me to
let go and never look back;
but it makes me hold on tighter to
what we ha(d)(ve).
[draft] 11/09/20
I still hold onto
what I no longer have
Samara Nov 2020
at the neon glow
of the kitchen clock
as though its a laser
in my eyes.
it stares right into
my eyes
but i dare not blink
for what i may miss
- - -
look at me
looking at you
as you change
minute by minute
hour by hour
until the orange glow
reappears on
the easterly horizon
and disappears in the

yet still nothing new
with each setting moon.
i've seen the
shapes you hold
come and go
yet still i watch
the afterglow
time and
time again
until i wait no more
- - -
for what?
I'm not sure
Markie Waters Nov 2020
Whirling, airy, smoky-immanence.
A sad, sad song is tuned for me.
Grey char, blending orange shine, eminence.
Now that this Old World is ending
Remembering all the good moments that you cherish so, only to have time push it away.
John McCafferty May 2020
If you focus on the pain
Mild sore aches or strain
Does it fade away
Enough for long as
sun does with shade

Measurements of mixed context

The more we sit inside
Idle minded led astray
Nature's chemistry in flux
Diametrically perplexed
Medication stimulating parts of the brain
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Dave Robertson Apr 2020
a glut of time
a surfeit, abundance,

for some,
the shackle breaking freedom
gives a new vigour
that’ll be forgotten
when the treadmill restarts

for others,
it’s the edifice,
the granite cliff to scale
to reach
the same old stuff
as always
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