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It's getting late in the day

Silence lingers heavily here
Where gleaming fingertips
Dig into scarred horizons
Running red with the light of a dying sun

Open-air hallways full of empty windows
Reflect what is left of the day
Into the faces of passersby

The only warmth they will find here

Eyes without faces march in lines
Parallel to uneven streets leading them
To places where illumination
Is only a figment of the imagination

Patrick Jul 14
It's strange.
I've always lived for love.
But you taught me to live for me.
And I only want to do that with you.
Brumous Jul 1
a shower at midnight,
small snacks at 2:22,
coffee at 3:14,

I stayed up all night,
to find distractions,
and waste some time.
I slept at dawn.

I only got two hours of sleep, but I don't feel tired.
Oculi Jun 23
There's a saxophonist that insists on keeping me awake
Blaring, drowning in the noise
Taking in spit and saliva from the reed
And going at it again
With fervorous gusts of screeches and yells

There's a horse that insists on keeping me awake
Neigh, he says, to the summer heat
And say he does, proclaim he does
Loudly, proudly, ever more
The morning light rises above him

There's cicadas insisting on keeping me awake
Buzz, chirp, skree, zumm
That is what they say, and what a fruitful talk
I'm sure it must be riveting since they want me to hear it
If only I spoke their tongue

There's a brain that insists on keeping me awake
Loud yells of bygone memories
Honest mistakes of the last decade
Fears of tomorrow, fears of today
What's the saxophone, horse and cicadas matter if I couldn't sleep anyway?
I wrote this two weeks ago, but I figured I should share.
Brett May 6
We are all immortal in our own time. Today I feel the warm caressing touch of life across my beleaguered face. Death does not escape me, but in this moment I am alive. One is immortal, if one has yet to understand what it means to die.
abhinav Apr 29
Thoughts of committing forbidden,
rises with the rock,
as soon as sun reflects off hidden,
crushing barriers came the thought.

Rock's rise to its fall,
till dawn came upon,
wondered it all,
what's it like being gone.

Getting chair, drilled temples, OD, Botox or hang,
visual flashes everyday,
like a mosquito inside my head canned,
waking as soon as I hit the hay.

Pressure's mounting none to release upon,
had so called well wishers,
fortunately I mowed the lawn,
and now none's left to cement the fissure.

Reliving past with a foreseen future,
altering with a hit of a key,
various customizable features,
only if it was like RPG.

Maybe it's insecurity,
maybe it's grades,
maybe it's futurity,
maybe it's living of which I'm afraid.
those sleepless nights **** the soul outta to have a guilt trip......
She Writes Apr 16
Nothing is louder
Than silent tears
And 2 a.m. overthinking
Is fifteen days too soon?
I think I might be starting to fall for you.
selina Apr 9
my hands reach for the strings
but i have butterfingers, and i hesitate too much
another missed chance, another lost opportunity

i wanted to tell you first
the confession was sitting on my tongue
but it burned down my cowardly throat instead

every time, the acceptance settles in my heart
heavy, like a small weight on my chest
at least i can carry my regrets without anyone seeing

go ahead, keep the lights shining on me
as i dance with someone who deserves better
who should have received a whole world

but if you look closely, all i had to offer was an arm to hold
and a smile for the pictures when we needed to pose
for my whole world was already in someone else's arms
Sarah Flynn Apr 8
I’m tired

but this isn’t
the type of tired
that sleep can fix.

I’m not tired
because I stayed up
too late last night.

I’m tired of
fighting with
my own mind.

I’m tired of
feeling like this is
a permanent feeling.

I’m tired of
being so tired.
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