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There it is,

again

All I had to do was look -
and that ****** intrusive thought
flashed behind my eyes

again

I've climbed the barrier,
I'm standing at its peak
when I allow my body to fall -
and the world's landscape
turns on its head
and everything fades
into the tenebrae

...

I blink and shake my head,
tearing my gaze away
My body -
it's twitching at the urge
to climb
I'd thought the yawning void
had stopped calling?
I have to keep walking
I must keep trying

I don't even want
to go anymore!

...don't I?
It happened again this morning...
I didn’t want to write this—but I needed to.
JayJay Feb 25
Stop.
Stop thinking about her.
Stop it!
Challenge: If you were to expand upon this, what would you add? (I'm curious as to what you all would say)
Serenity Nov 2024
There’s no rest
For the things I’ve done
They play in my mind
Like my favorite rerun

I know it’s not right
I owe you my life
I’ll hold your hand
While you take the knife

This poison inside me
Makes my stomach burn
Another pill dissolves on my tongue
I swear I’ll never learn

I’ve got to numb the pain
For me to be real
Ha! Just kidding
I make sure I can’t ever feel

If I leave my house
I got my shades on
Don’t want anyone to see
I’m really gone
mace May 2024
held breath
the space above my eyes feel as though there are worms
eating up the words i try to understand with my eyes
forgot to breathe
flailing my hands wildly
far-sighted, unfocused, hurts to squint

turn my head,
the screen of my vision tilts & becomes shaky

what will happen in the following plot?
i used to always picture the end
when i used to give in to the crests & troughs of the static frequency

a tickling in my brain,
a strong desire to flood the mind
and let it run down my cheeks; violently
to shake out the funny feeling that grips my throat silently
& forms thoughts beyond my control.
a piece i found in my journal, written long ago around feb of 2021. i feel like i really had a way with words i can't seem to do now. we'll always have things we can improve on no matter how old you get, even if they were the same things you used to be good at.
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
Ruminating
Vividly

Insidious
Mentality

Anachronistic
Philosophy­

Schizophrenic
Witchery
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 28.
Zygos Jan 2022
Tracing smoke with dry ice fingertips,
I hold my breath and begin to float.
The heat of a bellies past burden
steams to my head, until I begin to rise.

No where to go, except everywhere I'm late,
so I drift along a black and blue sky pretending
to be a storm. Pressing clouds into my skin
that slowly evaporate into recovery along the way.

Unconscious and shattered, I land where I've
always been. Cloaked in dew drop kisses and
pink morning yawns, I could pull the earth over
my head just to snooze into eternity.

But there's a mouth at my neck, breathing sticky
lies and humid affairs. Each whisper a grain of
sand, filling my vision with a million fragments of fog.
Blurring what ever I was and who ever I will become.

I drink shape shifting water that always refills as
*****, lubricating contorted lust and pages that
won't burn. Scraping scabs for clues and emptying
all my pockets for loose change as a compass for hope.

Slippery slumber, the hot air rises to make room for
cold confrontation and chilling truths. On every
surface you'll find manic scribbles that feel
like immortal truths
bleeding from my fingertips,
only to wake in silence with no resolution.

Just the melodic drone of recycled air from the AC.
Finn Dec 2021
When I'm left to myself
My wrists tingle
And I vividly see what it would like like
To scratch and scratch,
until blood flowed like a river
To pry my nails from my body,
with a squelching sound
To pull my teeth with pliers,
feeling the roots' empty place
To stab pencils into my thighs,
and leave them in the contracting muscles
To pour acid down my back,
and feel it burning and bubbling and the tissues peeling off
To scoop out my eyes,
and finally be blind to the world,
with crimson tears running down my face
grave Feb 2021
thought enters.
& repeats,
& repeats,
& repeats,
& repeats,
& repeats,
until another comes to take its place,
filling up the cluttered space
inside my mind.
a hoarder's den of memories i don't wish to find,
& others lost to passing time.
i'm not much of a poem writer but i think it could be a good outlet.
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