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R Nov 2019
what is the blurry
between the joy and the blues,
we are daffodils flying in the wind
one moment
butterflies falling in the rain
another?
seraph Sep 2019
i am overzealous and underwhelming. i say somethings and i regret them. i say nothings and i wish i hadn't. i am weighted and unbalanced. i place value where i think it belongs. i lean heavy into things for too long. i am uncertain and so sure. i run out of thoughts before my heart runs out of feelings. my thoughts run over and overwhelm my heart. i am liminal and concrete. im incomplete but hoping i could be.
Mark Boschi Apr 2019
my bedroom/airports/empty reception rooms/anywhere at 2 am
vacant parking lots
hospitals at midnight
museum waiting lines in the early morning
schools during break
late night supermarket runs
waiting for the bus at 5 am
walking down the cobblestone streets at 6 am
gas stations at dawn
unfamiliar McDonalds on long road trips

their buzzing electricity is my alternate reality. stretching across my view with reckless abandon.
day 20 - liminal spaces
hizatul akmah Apr 2019
walk, keep walking
don't stop, don't turn around
look forwards for the possible lives
that you could live
and pay homage to your old self.

run, keep running
don't hesitate, don't turn back
look ahead for more and more
that you could have
that you could be.

sing, don't stop singing
don't be sad, don't turn all mellow
look around for your own rhythm
that could serenade your soul
and make you whole again.
Jules AA Apr 2019
the purple
    plums
           plummet,
crash like comets
into the grass.

hands filled with splinters
        from the oaken bench
when i moved to rub my eyes,
and through blood
    i can can see petals
            rather than prunes.

i remember once i
learned
when you
relocate
a sapling

to dip them
    in a mix
of algaes
and dirt
so they can
take root
       root
              root.
so that one day
maybe
they will be
purple.

and i sit
        entombed by a pile of earth
and insects,
and with every exhale
i root
        root
              root
myself too.
Vexren4000 Aug 2018
Small places tucked away,
On hidden streets,
In small alcoves,
Places suspended in a liminal way,
Life stalled at night,
Streetlights singing through the dark,
Like man-made starlight,
Guiding one to a place hidden away.

©BAS
Haley Tyler Apr 2018
What do you do
with the curtains drawn and lights off?
In an empty house does time stop?
Do the walls talk?
Do dust motes dance above countertops?

What do you do
alone in your head,
Are you keeping yourself fed?
Do you curl up in the safety of bed?
Do you drag your feet as if they’re lead?

What do you do
with no where to go?
Do you allow the emptiness to grow?
Or do you try to fight the low?
Or maybe, just maybe, let someone know?
liminal: adjective. relating to thresholds. the state of being in between. | h.t.
persephone Mar 2018
04
she existed in the liminal spaces
between evening and night
a frosted marble statue
decorating the stone patio
in front of a white brick building
and she reaches out
her hands beckoning
any passerby
to spare her a glance
and a kind word
she existed in the liminal spaces
between love and apathy
a bright smile and blinding eyes
staring blankly into the shadows
in the corner of her favorite coffee shop
lifting her cup to her lips
a silent toast in my direction
telling me that
i did not go unnoticed
she existed in the liminal spaces
between your lips and mine
exchanging cold air cigarette smoke
between two lungs
like lovers
words dying as they hit
the cold november air
in the backseat of a yellow bus
and she breathes into the side of my neck
as i gather my thoughts into
words on my fingertips
and she tells me
he does not mind
she existed in the liminal spaces
between streetlights and mountain roads
hands on the worn leather wheel
screaming beautiful words
at the top of her lungs
she overlapped my melody
with her own
and in the pause between words
we switched effortlessly
gliding into the next verse
like practiced artists
and fated lovers
and the best of friends
we harmonized
Michelle Argueta Dec 2017
you’re staring at a wrench display
in a failing sears 10 minutes before closing
and don’t recognize the reflection in the stainless steel.
you’ve been here a million times,
run your fingers along band saws a million times,
memorized the store’s playlist, learned “Love Hurts" by Nazareth
but you’re still trying to find something that connects,
something to retrace the steps to what pushed you out the door,
placed cold hands in empty pockets, made you stop
to buy cigarettes and brought you here again.
your blood pumps slower in places of transition,
only walked through to get to the mall
or back through to poorly parked cars
and you know a lot about
being used to move on
but left behind.
an employee asks if you’re alright
and you say yes
because you know they’re running out their shift
and don’t want to deal with your ****
and how could you tell them
that today, your skin feels foreign.
maybe you’ll find something in
winter coats and blackout curtains
but until then you make a home
on a display mattress
because you only live in liminal spaces.
you’re only grounded
between phases, in inbetweens.
you rely on uncertainty and in this economy,
the sears might be gone before you realize you’ll miss it.
"love hurts by Nazareth
seeps through the speakers
inside of Sears."

- Julia Champagne "By Nazareth"

if you've been inside a sears at any point after like, 2011, i think you'll agree it's an otherworldly experience in the worst ******* way. we all find comfort in weird places sometimes though.
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