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Zywa Oct 2022
A giggle echoes

from the cave, door after door --


is quickly closed up.
"Tom Poes en de grote Barribal" ("Tom **** and the Mighty Barribal", 1965-1966, Marten Toonder)

Collection "Bearer Toonder"
Andy Chunn Aug 2022
With soft hushed slip-steps
They creep into my being
My sleepy mind preps
For all the things I’m seeing

They are the sleep sneakers
That invade in the night
Restlessness seekers
That dance without the light

The tales of dreary dreams
Show terror, fear or love
But Sleep sneakers seem
To form fit like a glove

There is no themed story
The meanings are unclear
There’s doubt without glory
Just a gnawing fear

Tonight there in my mind
As I settle in my bed
Those sleep sneakers may find
Dreams hidden in my head
birdy Aug 2022
Around every poorly lit street
the ones with cracks in the road
and coin beggars in the shadows
you will find my unwanted poster
a picture with clarity through time
from child to adolescent
the poster remains scattered
throughout this ****** city
a poem about feeling unwanted your whole life
Filomena Aug 2022
Have you met Ophelia?
I saw her at the bank
Withdrawing all her interest.
And if I may be frank,

It seemed none could appeal to her,
And as she stacked her notes
Her visage had the look of death.
I hope her asset floats.
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 53.
Inspired by a book I was given
by an anonymous staff person.
birdy Jul 2022
Each pound gained
my stake in 'pretty' waned
in societies tiny frame
of what's pretty
and what is shamed.
Sometimes I convince myself my worth is based on the scale, but if I lost twenty pounds that would not make me twenty pounds 'prettier', and appearance does not define you.
newborn Jul 2022
might as well have poisonous chemicals poured onto my skin
since i want to rip it off
strip it off my body
pile it inside the trash
for the raccoons to go to town on

the body i came with
i want to send it back to the store
i want it to be returned
packaged away
return to sender

invasive species
on the layers of my skin
that i should be calling home
but i disown them
get this dead weight off of me!
i am insecure about everything on my body. make it stop.
birdy Jul 2022
I could never love myself through the male gaze,
every part of me dissected into something that is nothing
objectified and dismembered into significantly insignificant categories
criticized, and ostracized from humanly functions
only to be put on display
as a mannequin.
Dreyasten Jul 2022
I melt with the way you look at me
Rejoicing in the sunlight that is your attention
I feel as if I could float
Until a meteorite hits
The reminder that you don't feel the same
The reminder that I'm not what you want
I hate that I feel this way for you
Because no matter how I admit it
I feel so deeply
So much more deeply than an average being
Because my emotions are intense
This feeling flows in tidal waves
Crashing against me in a pattern of warm and freezing
Warm being the moments I feel like a star in your constellation
The freezing being the reminder that you're a galaxy away
My heart stammers consistently
Whether skipping a beat at the positive attention
Or stuttering at the depression at every turn
You do not want me
As I want you
And I tell myself that's okay
But it truly hurts
'She could be great
if she lost the weight.'--
These words burned into my mind

And I find that brand on my skin
In the form of slaps and bruises,
Grabs and pinches, trying to
Determine the length, the number
That is always over, never under.

Measurements
Measurements
Measurements,
Wait, don't go,
stay, be late.
I'm sure I can bite off the extra space I take,
I can rake my nails over thunderous thighs,
Compromise my breath
by wearing bras not my size.
I can be slight and slender
In my demeanor,

Look how invisible I am when I'm not on stage,
When I'm not in the dance!
You might glance me in the beginning
As I'm wearing a winning grin
And a sheen of sweat,
Worried to be found out as fat.

I promise I can dance,
See, look at all this art that I craft
With my hands and my heart.
Yes, my body as well
But you can barely tell.

The swell of my ******* rise and fall
With the breath in my chest, but
I can't rest, comforting words are
Too frail a nest.
Witness my hyperventilation
in this body fixation,
This determination that I can't be enough
because
There is far too much of me.

But I'm pushing, pushing back
I ask for gentleness,
  I begin to allow my bones to enjoy
   their cocoons
    Of muscle and fat and sinew.
     This is a body.
      And this body moves.
It reaches and teaches
  Grasps, gasps, hands clasp,
   Knees collapse, voice rasps,
    It's all valid.
    Eating salad won't fix what isn't broken.
    
The space I take up
Is my entry token into the world,
It's my ticket stub that can't be snubbed,
My admittance isn't denied
Because of my thighs.
My lungs are given permission
To the air, my heart receives
A knowing nod that I too may be cared for.

Life and love,
They love me all the same.
I must not blame and shame my size,
Using my eyes as daggers
that try to cut and carve away the excess.
Let my eyes be a balm,
To calm and to soothe what once
Was an abused and used,
And refused vessel.

I ask for gentleness,
Something new.
I ask for gentleness
From you, too.
voodoo Jun 2022
oh, lovely –

another of my ugly insecurities has come undone –

unraveling from my heart, tumbling across the space between us,

ungainly in its amble towards your feet.

if i’m sorry, will that be too little? if i perform an even bigger act of affection

(not always only for compensation)

will that be too much?

was it too much the last time?

as you watch me scramble for words, for explanations,

for comprehension of my own actions,

are you sick of me?

does it make your stomach turn to see my flaws? it sure does make mine.

i can’t tell you 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 without lying

that 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥.

anyway, would you like some tea while we watch this show?

this tragedy of errors on an endless timeline?

anything else to make your experience better?

am i condescending when i ask for concern? is it fun to battle my quiet anger with your quiet neglect?

i’m sorry, maybe i assume too much. actually, i’m sure i do.

it’s so humiliating to find meaning in everything even when i know better.

oh, lovely –

yet another insecurity.
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