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bob Apr 20
Though I'm not in jail it all just feels the same
Waking up depressed told just not to complain
A shotgun to my head i feel like Curt Cobain
Not a literal sense, but the context sustains
I don't want money, success, not even some fame
I just want to learn to play this game
Each day it gets hard i just keep  breathing
Wondering how the **** this happened, it feels like treason
From a comical skeptic to a reliable source
I question the water that was gave to the horse
Viewed as a sinner but always in doubt
"Read from the scripture and figure it out"
Nightmares keeping me awake like a proxy
SO many bad thoughts I wish I could get off me
Do your 12 steps Bob, everything is kosher
Yet I wake every night screaming still sober
A stranger does the same, and everyone wants to know her
A technicality set, a glimpse for closure
Different from most but related to some
I feel alone but second to none
Shaking again always be the **** up
"drinkings a sin" Always press my luck up
Some things I will never understand
But if it doesn't change I will be ******
As dawn's fog yawns
exhausted jaws call upon
tomorrows and beyond.

Pondering somnolent solitude's
honest and solemn qualms,
the calm before
ancient eons old atomic bomb;
clouds becoming bells of bronze,
air a balmy sauna,
strands of photon blonde
don tree awnings
and lush bladed lawns
strong enough to rouse flora,
fauna frolicking along,
faults and all their wrongs;
summer sunrise,
curtains, drapes are drawn,
phenomenon a drama
of God's pawns,
audience applause
the crawling pulse
of this cosmic throng.

But chronology's period
more like a comma, pause,
as falling autumns quick bygone,
then a wave of frigid wand
and winter's frostbitten trauma haunts;
maudlin waters frozen wanton,
fossilized to icy ponds,
ossified swans mourn silenced songs
their unspoken sonnets
for want of
warm renaissance.
Jodie-Elaine Jan 6
Good morning    body
I called you in for a meeting
    because
you can’t sleep                         again
and I just wanted to tell you
        you don’t already seem to know
and no one can read your writing
you already know what you’re wearing tomorrow and you’ll pay the gallery in the morning

and    it's all fine
and you’re very much allowed to yawn     sigh    or take a
deep breath    

I know January keeps trying to go on
and on and on and on
like you’re not already over it
a few weeks ahead of yourself
like we’re not all stuck in Deja-vu
despite the fact that it’s fun to type out
soothing repetition
like a hot tea lavender oil or the last smile on the page
like a consoling yoga chant

it’s time you heard this
where are the words you’re hiding?
when you sit down and say you can’t do this again
I will tell you     I think this might be growing
it was you under the pile of clothes the whole time
holding the remote
murmuring prophetically in the corner
it was you    you see
you already said
you’re everything you know
you’re everything you need

Good morning    body
I called you in to talk to me
for us to meet each other

letters to yourself are the new shopping list

or at least
they’re calming to write when you can’t sleep.
poetry from Jan, deep in the midst of hibernation season
Ren Sturgis Dec 2023
Another night as I lie awake somewhere in between this realm and the next
I hold myself the way I've done for so long
Missing something that feels so distant yet phases in so close to reality
Processing....
Dissociative dimension loading....
Physically here, mentally checked out
Overthinking taking the wheel
Not real, not real, not real
Pain, so much pain. Can't get it out of my head.
A figment of my imagination; it's clutches digging deep into my heart
Don't leave me
I'll be okay I have to be
Smile
I'm fine I promise (I'm not)
Blink away the tears that threaten to fall
Emotion consumes
Resolve
You're so strong they say
Voices whisper 'give up'
I don't wanna give up
There's still so much I want to do
Please help me
I'm not strong enough, but I'm a good person I swear
Hold me I'm begging
Tell me everything will be alright
Just once that's all I need
I'll never ask for anything else
I won't be an inconvenience anymore
I don't know anymore
Let go, let go, let go
Release control
I always tend to write in the wee hours of the morning when the thoughts consume me.
Lennox Trim Dec 2023
In this life of mine, it feels like I'm dreamin'
but the alarm clock are these demon deeds that I deem in.

I often ponder if I'm here for the wrong reasons,
or if I've squandered some chances in past seasons,
Quilted in the questions from my adolescence,
Blanket statements keep me warm but come fighting with a vengeance,
At most they provide my mind a light snooze.
I be trippin when my destiny is dangled in life's noose,
My thoughts tangled - cause life's a nuisance,
I've nuanced and now my fears are translucent,
My Dreams less lucid.
My Conscience more convoluted.
My Freedom more fluid.
My Scenery more secluded.
My Mind less polluted,
And my Roots more rooted.

In this life of mine it feels like I'm dreamin'
and the alarm clock are these demon deeds that I deem in.

You see I used to have nightmares I the daytime,
That the opportunist would slither in and take mine,
That Judas would come up behind me with a grapevine,
That Brutus would put his knife to my waistline,
To combat em - Had to resort to astral projection.
Cause my mind had had fragile protection.
Had to collect my recollections.
Had to reflect on my reflections.
Had to reconnect my connections.
Had to reject past rejections.
and perfect my imperfections.

In this life of mine it feels like I'm dreamin'
and the alarm clock are the demon deeds that I deem in.

I had a dream I had powerful powers,
and that time couldn't be spent -
so these hours, were ours.
I was the Blvck Clark Kent,
Flying through towering towers,
Dressed in all Blvck, I'm more like the colored cape crusader,
I'm Bruce Wayne on dark nights,
For the same reason that turned Anniken to Vader,
but always seem to get into the wrong fights,
Rumbling for my slumber, think the demons is winnin,
I cant wait for this to end - think I need new beginnings...
Elizabeth Kelly Nov 2023
Exhaustion is a thousand starving mouths;
Insomnia, a single gnawing doubt.
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