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The Forgotten Apr 2023
Three AM
When the eyes can close
But the minds don't shut
They say penguins can't fly
But they do
In her world, where we lived on clouds
Magic and Superpowers
Where people were real
And not.
The dark haired boy whose named she couldn't fix,
And light haired Liz, with her tall brother Will.
Sleeping in caves, hunger games style
Skipping through stories, shifting through worlds
Safe spaces,
Born within the mind
Distort reality when it hurts
'Escape realms'
Worlds change from fantasies to dreams
To insecurities, hatred and pain
But the ceiling remains the same
Dull
And plain.
frog Sep 2021
It is 1am,
I just played minecraft on our server,
which has mostly been abandoned.
Good memories and happy thoughts.

It is still 1am,
The discord call is muted.
The only sound is the Lo-Fi from the music bot.
I am calm.

It is 1am,
and I am thinking about how much I love my friends.
Thank you, for everything, I am glad we exist.
I wrote this for the ETFC :) If you're in that discord server, ily
Dave Robertson Apr 2021
We were once well acquainted
with the wee small hours
adept at navigating neon jungles
and the deeps of kitchen philosophies
entwined with kebabs and illicit frissons,  
in vino veritas conspiracies
that took weeks to unpick and apologise for
but passed

Now, if seen, those hours hold different snags,
surrounding plants are far less exotic
but familiar brambles cut deep,
immutable truths roar
when the ***** doesn’t do the talking
and morning burrs not so easily dislodged
by a full English and a million teas
adriana Dec 2020
it gets to the point where you just
watch time escape
twelve
one
two, three,
four,five,six
seven

i can hear singing outside of my window
the birds are always happy,
those ****** birds.


please,ijustwannasleepnow
(12.27.2020)
—adrianatamara
the sun, she is relentless. she waits for no one.
Mishy Kim Sep 2020
while writing my speech for a class, i realized something about myself. i was always stuck in the middle. growing up in the philippines, i was too korean to fit it with the filipinos, but i was too filipino to fit in with the koreans. i was never really thin or fat. i was sure and unsure about everything all the time. i never completely found a middle, comfortable ground to stand on. i thought i had a happy place, but i realized i didn't. i was always too lost in my thoughts to make one. i wanna learn how to be comfortable in some place. some happy place where i can rest my head, because my anxiety is not letting me sleep. i wanna learn to be comfortable in my grey zone. i want that to be my happy place. i just dont know how, which i think is a good thing. not knowing can lead to more, deeper answers. i just wish i know when im going to find it.
i haven't written here in the longest time lel i needed a place to i guess vent (?) my thoughts somewhere
J Nc Sep 2020
T minus minus 40 cents
This rocket fuel runs hot
Like blasting ****** through your veins
Its worth its worth a shot

I did i did a 40 shot
It rung my ******* bell
It ****** it ****** me up so bad
I lost my sense of smell

My eyes are twitching outta sync
My guts my guts are clenched
I think five oh is on the porch
I hope we dont get lynched

Im absent, gone, in outer space
I wrecked my rusty rocket
I know tho know tho how **** go tho
2 spares are in my pocket

I'll take one and I'll take one
I'll stay in tight formation
And pick up pick up dime line hoes
From down in Choctaw Nation

My back my back aches constantly
From breaking rocks, I guess
I swear I swear one day one day
I'll settle down, do less
Beanie Sep 2020
there are some nights
that seem to stretch for years,
eons of time spent awake
and laying listless.

a church bell rings,
four times,
and the stars shine
mercilessly overhead.

small things chirp,
and the smell of dew reaches me,
but rest refuses to come,
and i am left sleepless once more.
Cenna Khatib Jun 2020
When the world is far too quiet and dew has yet to coat the early morning air
And you show up as the clock strikes 3 am for the third night this week
Slurring in your own stupidity requesting bagels, uncooked with globs of butter
The way we always had them all those years ago, all those drunken nights

And you’ll claim love that you so conveniently forget to mention in sobriety
Love that we had when we were one in the same
The same love that urges me to hold your hair back
And nurse you back to feeling okay

Only to stand there stone cold, only hours later to watch you leave
In minutes that get shorter with every morning that passes

And as I clean up the only evidence of your visits
I pick apart the remainder of what we once called a relationship

Maybe one of these days I’ll take the leap from what’s comfortable into what we need
To end it
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