Madolyn 6h

a black wave
that won’t go away
my eyes forget to shut
and my lungs forget to breathe
all i can feel is
The Dread
swirling and reaching
the punishment from my own brain
for nothing

The clock shows 3:15

Everyone is out there following their dreams,
working hard on what they love and what they believe.

I am hidden deep beneath rubble and rock,
peering out to see what I'm missing out on.
It's always dark here and it's always grey.
But I see a light that shines from people and their ways.

I wish I could be like them.

I have ideas and passion in the cracks of my weak bones.
I have optimism and love laying dormant in my throat.
But I'm too tightly trapped under what holds me down,
to escape and be like the others.

I've written masterpieces on the walls of this cave,
I've shouted so loud that some walls have worn away.
But as one is knocked down, another appears.
I've tried to make music so plants can grown,
so they can oxygenate me inside this tiny hole.

But they wilt, like everything, like me.
Always grown, always wilted.
Always died.

Like me, like my loved ones, like my passion.


Never again will I walk those floors, or will I see the stars in your eyes.
The rooftop romance we once had will dissipate into a soiled garment on the floor, one I left there months before.
You left me in the winter, and I met you years ago in the hot summer scape.
I've evaded this fear too many times until I realized my love was gone and yours was too late.
Never again.

I love you. But you're not coming back, and I don't want you to.
Rebecca Y Dec 2

here’s to the taxi drivers returning home late at night,
to the man on his bicycle who just finished his shift,
to the truck drivers still on the road,
to the designated drivers and the heavy-lidded back seat passengers,
and to those at home lying awake watching the cars pass,
lost in thoughts.

Akash Mandal Dec 1

Friday is always
four days late, but brings me beer,
so we stay even.

Nightsung Nov 23

As I
at the railroad

The feel
got me

And I
on a blanket
Of stone
and iron

But the bull never came

Waiting for a train that's always late isn't the most fun thing to do...
Aleeza Nov 18

there are ribbons of light threaded in your hair
and the clock ticks are synchronized with your touch
I don’t know about the things you used to whisper to me
for now, all I know is how your hellos used to feel
and maybe it’s 3am and it’s too early for you to go
so I’ll ask you to stay until we can get lost again

it’s late to say goodbye now for I left without a word
don’t ask me to stay if you already know that I won’t
I don’t want to get lost again cause I’m trying to find myself
been broken by the consequences I had when I was with you

cold coffee and troubled stares
trying to find the life I lost in our cracked walls
the song we used to yell while cruising in cars
lost in the quiet sadness of the rain
our knees bump against each other and we don’t pull them away
and I keep saying sorry but you don’t hear anything I say

memories keep flashing
I’m trying to shake them off
I know that it’s best when we’re both apart
we keep on hurting each other with words we don’t mean
a sorry won’t fix what’s already been done
when I left I know you’ll be okay
we’ll both be free of what’s been keeping us chained
I loved you for a long time but I know it’s time to let you go
I know you’re already unhappy
you’re just afraid to be alone

but maybe alone is not what I fear
maybe I can’t stand the idea of you being removed from my words
all those years of sunshine so I knew I needed your rain
and maybe your storms were not enough
to chase away the emptiness of the light

I know that you’re a strong independent woman
but what you can’t let go was the fun memories we had
you cling to the words and you dwell in your thoughts
you know you’re so much more than that
but you refuse to take hold of that
we both knew that you don’t need me
but you don’t want to believe that
it’s better this way
we could be on our own, fixing ourselves on our separate ways
why would you run back to the person who broke you?
we both know that the circumstances won’t be better if ever I come back

broken is all I’ve known
cracks spidering across paint-splattered porcelain
and I didn’t mind that I crumbled in your hands
you used to look at me like you knew what I once was
and in all my dreams you drowned me
but I couldn’t take any other hand but yours

Wasting wits Nov 18

I was late,
Frantically running in hopes I'd make it to the meeting on time.

I was distracted,
Not worried where I was going, but worried about when I'd get there.

I was careless,
I stepped on the flower in the crack of the sidewalk I so carefully appreciated in days past.

After the meeting, I was released on a lunch break.
There, I ran into him.
A man of broad appearance, yet short structure.
A man from work who had a meeting proceeding lunch.
As we talked, time seemed to slip from our grasp.
I took the journey back to work on foot, while he operated his motor vehicle and realized:

He was late,
Frantically driving, swerving in an out of lanes, exceeding speed limits in hopes he'd make it in time.

He was distracted,
Checking his phone for updates on his current situation, he ceased to notice he was headed into the crosswalk.

He was careless,
His seconds of fatuity caused a mistake that could never be withdrawn.

The smile he carried just moments ago was now contained by the gentle housing of his lips.
Creases dawned from the furrow of his brow, caused by the saturated eyes he wore beneath his languid eyelids.
As the time between his inhalation crescendoed, mine slowed to a stop.
He stole my breath.

I was late,
Frantically gasping in hopes they'd arrive promply.

I was distracted,
Not worried about who was coming, but when they'd show.

I was careless,
Here I lay as the flower, once alive in a dreadful place.

Trying something new.
Katarina Nov 16

She is always waiting for me.
Her slithering serpents’ aching to pull me under.
I feel her spiny laughter as I push her into the concrete box of her own making.

I can almost barely feel the chill breeze on my once bound wrists before her villainous cackle chills me through the tomb she is encased in.

I am new to this world of grass and soil that tingles the bottoms of my hardened feet. The warmth from the sky makes me forget her.

But there! She breaks free, standing under the moon’s light.

I stand, frozen, hoping to finally be free from my stony prison and to never see those gruesome eyes again.

But, now, as I look into the eyes I so wish to be free from, I see my own two empty sockets reflecting back at me: unending and unforgiving.

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