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lisagrace Jul 16
Orange flowers blanket my knees
My coffee is betrayal -
not sweet enough. Bland
Daylight again,
but I am a vampire
Decomposed lettuce juice in the fridge

Other people exist - I decline
Where is the cacao bean delight?
The ocean can wait
I have my shell. It has pockets
A poem for the days you stay in your shell.
Written in my oodie, dodging the world (and the lettuce juice).
Limes Carma Jul 7
I never learned the rules they made —
the apps, the games, the masquerade.
I tried them once, they felt too loud,
like chasing something through a crowd.

I’ve had my nights, I’ve played my part,
but none of it could reach my heart.
I want something that doesn’t fade —
but not the way it’s now portrayed.

I’m not online, I stepped aside.
Not hiding — just not in the tide.
I don’t perform. I don’t compete.
But that’s how people seem to meet.

They match, they text, it moves so fast —
like every moment’s built to pass.
And while I watch it come and go,
I wonder where the slow hearts go.

Where do they cross, where does it start,
when swipes replaced the human part?
I never learned to play the cut —
Which leaves me here. Now what?
© Copyright 2025 - Limes Carma
Laura Claes Jul 3
I wish I could cry it out
but instead I cry inside
There tears are flowing
and they drown my mind.

L.C.
You Talk, i listen.
That’s the way this works.

You ramble and You monologue,
while i keep my lips pursed.

i wonder if You’ll notice,
i haven’t said a word..

But you simply entertain Yourself,
and i remain unheard.
Being an introvert is tricky. There's been a couple times I've just stopped talking to see how long people would talk to themselves... spoiler alert---it's a long time.
Abokoe Tlou Jun 28
I stare at the blank sheet of paper
And it stares back, a silent taunt
I grasp my pen like a talisman
Hoping to conjure words, not spells of doubt
My hand tightens around its slender form
As if to extract the last drop of life
Red ink bleeds out in anguish
A lifeblood spilled onto the page's white strife
I struggle to tell my story
As my mind and hand fail to synch
And words refuse to flow
The pen scratches, hesitant and slow,
A reluctant heartbeat in my hand's grasp.
Naavya May 2
The midnight came
With a glowing full moon
Nothing about it tame
Cascading light into my room

The world fell silent
Not a soul in sight
As if every star in the sky was compliant
In this conspiracy of the night

The peace engulfs me
Taking me into a serene state of mind
The sound of the waves of the nearby sea
Finally audible after a day of being undermined

The possibilities endless
Of what I could do with this time
With a holiday from a mind that’s always restless
I could dance, sing and rhyme

The calm lonely night
Threatens to disappear as soon as it began
And as I wake up with the sun shining bright
I wait for the midnight to come again
TR3F1LD Apr 25
in better times, I remember I
began getting quite arrested, like
a ****** susp., by
Harmonía, which keeps serving
to this day as a source of both psychic sunlight
and real enjoyment (sometimes)
which is somewhat funny co[ɑ]mbined
with the fact it was a summer month I
started getting more in—volved in thI̲s diversion
summer twenty fourteen
which means she's something I have bE̲E̲n exploring
for... um... already more than
a decade, like rotten souls of autocratic rogues
["decayed"]
but it's a mite bigger story
given the fA̲ct I'd known
and been sort of into her some years before then
she can be so diverse, from natural
to artificial & including parts of both
plenty of heartbeat types & tempos
and vibes: from nice & mellow
to harsh & evil, from bright to dismal
from refined & regal to energized & feral
she can pep up automotive-buzz-replete strolls
she's there for you in times you feel low
and any kind of insult is something she won't
ever do, unlike a lo[ɑ]t of people; I can hardly be called
jolly, like a harlequin lo[ɑ]cked within walls
of a go[ɑ]ddamn mental
["Harley Quinn"; "Gotham"]
asylum, but, like an environment fa[ɛ]natic
in a paradisiacal la[ɛ]nd replete
with scenes of natural grace, I'm pleased
["blissed"]
that I̲ had a cha[ɛ]nce to be
introduced to her; and all the gO̲O̲d 'bout her
cited through the verse is why I'm glued to her
not a single day of mine is thrO̲U̲gh sans her
but if you think I'm alluding to[—]wards
a close other, you have sure
misunderstood the verse (some of it)
[Unlike Pluto has a tune being, as it's stated by him, "a love song as a metaphor for alcoholism"]
[it's called "Ethel", which is a homophone for "ethyl"]
————————————————————————————————
for I'm not one with a people-oriented frame
of mind, but a music nerd
with a broad extent of taste
for music, but one whO̲ prefers
mostly middle-paced
and boomy forms
of it, such as midtempo bass
midtechno, EDM glitch hop, moombahcore
drift phonk "*******", like a *****'s brain
moombahton, & 2000s reggaeton
but some years ago, when old & new reports
of injustices of the human world
next to the discontent of daily adult-hood were serv—
—ing as ****** fuel in terms
of the ignition of the stupid urge
to get something (boo!) destroyed
to bring against injustice-contributing jerks retribution earned
a craze for more dark-sounding, brutal sorts
of tunes was formed as a substitution for
destruction, like any amusement's purp.
["distraction"; "purpose"]
along with music, another gO̲O̲d means for
getting through the murk
has been, like when a whip's coming thrO̲U̲gh keen curves
sideways with its wheels sliding through the course
of it, creative writing, putting words (mislead)
["creative riding"; "ᵖᵤᵗᵢⁿ words"]
into this seductive-looking form (indeed)
————————————————————————————————
and I really was thinking after the last done work
(that killing joke tale)
that I won't manage to craft one more (usual thoughts)
took 'round three & a half months burned (for the most part)
and the thought of o[ɑ]bligation to wha[ʌ]t's been saving
me from ending up in a darker place in
order to undertake an—other rhyme creation
hopefully, like that racing co[ɑ]ntest on Terminal
Island, I'll have some more to show
that's something I am not sure of, though
["mortal show"; the "Death Race" show from the same-titled movie]
"Harmonía ("obliged" rhymefall)" by TR3F1LD (TRFLD) is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (to view a copy of this license, visit creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0)
Hermit Apr 19
It feels like fear, it feels like fire,
Like pressure building, climbing higher.
It’s silence breaking into screams,
It’s shattered glass inside my dreams.

It’s every “no” I had to swallow,
Every fake smile I had to follow.
It’s being told “you’re just too much,”
Then wondering why I never trust.

It’s fight or flight with nowhere to run,
A war inside that’s never done.
It’s crying in the shower stall,
And praying that no one hears at all.

It feels like lightning in my veins,
Like thunder dressed up as my name.
It’s fury dressed in Sunday best—
A heart too loud to let me rest.

It’s when the tears have turned to heat,
When breaking down starts to repeat.
It’s shaking hands and biting tongue,
It’s all the songs I left unsung.

It’s childhood screams in grown-up skin,
A beast I keep locked deep within.
It’s not just pain—it’s pain denied,
It’s every time I should've cried.

It’s wanting peace but needing war,
It’s kicking down a bolted door.
It’s loving deep but hurting more,
A tidal wave inside my core.

Don't tell me “Breathe," don't say "relax,"
When all I've ever known are cracks.
This rage, it isn’t just a phase—
It’s how I’ve learned to walk through blaze.

Rage isn’t evil.
It’s grief with nowhere to go.
It’s love that’s been left in the cold.
It’s fear that grew teeth.
It’s me,
trying not to disappear.
Ever felt like expressing your feelings but your introverted nature will not let you? the pressure starts building up slowly like a volcano then starts killing you.
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