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Intimacy falls
flat on her face against hard
concrete. Window-pain

of the soul opened.
She leapt out-- into mid-air--
Smashing-- abstracted.

Is she alive? No
one caught her. Vulnerable
to asphalt - turned down.
3 consecutive, senyrūs form
AI Art Inspired by Poem: https://sora.com/g/gen_01jqt55gfdekgatr3f1t0rkgd2
San Feb 25
With a compass of sheer curiosity, I roam,  
An oxymoron guiding me to unknown realms,  
Chasing the edge of a world that’s never shown,  
Looking for paradise at every place,
Only to find in the void, a blank space.

Each question a spark, a thread to unwind,  
But this thread, it tangles, no answers to find,  
In the labyrinth of thought, I'm lost, confined,  
Curiosity's compass, leading a confused mind.

In the edge of a cliff, I stand up straight.
I see a mirror, staring back at me is my own fate.
Reflecting not my face, but just my shadow,  
The more I chase the light, the more I grow hollow.

In a labyrinth of thoughts, where every twist and bend,  
Feels both familiar and foreign, a journey with no end.
In the tangled vines of confusion, making things worse,
Engulfed in this darkness, being one with the curse.

They see me as mysterious, a figure shrouded in mist,  
But I wander the same paths, where exits don’t exist.  
Chasing a ghost, an echo of who I thought I'd be,  
Yet finding only illusions, hopes that deceive me.

I search for something lost, that perhaps was never there,  
A fleeting dream, a whisper, dissolving in the air.  
Endlessly I walk, seeking what I cannot see,  
A labyrinth of my making, where I’m never found to be.
KarmaPolice Jan 20
A silent swing  
To a closed door.  
A slow hiss  
On formal mass.  

Stripes and numbers,  
Caught in a loop—  
Procedures run  
In reverse.  

Distorted lips,  
And posturing,  
Play out  
To a full room.  

Blurred shirts  
Ebb and flow,  
Washing all  
From my view.  

Time shifts—  
Paths alter.  
Blurred screens,  
At the desk.

Warning bells,  
Blown speakers,  
Distress and  
Wretched panic.  

A locked door.  
Pounding fists.  
Screams and  
Tears befall.  

Blurred shirts  
Ebb and flow,  
Washing all  
From my view.  

The screen fades.  
The reel burns.  
Doused by  
Eternal grief.
Trauma and it's nightmares, stuck in a loop, played out on VHS
To dream of about suicide is a wage to not wake up dead, a struggle
to rise from the depths of despair. In the heart of a collapsing
mansion, I find myself amidst a vast courtyard, pondering if this
opulence will ever be mine. A magnificent tennis court lies before me,
its fragile barrier barely containing the grotesque monsters lurking
beyond. They cling to the fence, their claws poised to strike, yet I can’t
help but grin, for these fiends are but reflections of my own tortured
psyche.

Where shall I find solace in dreams, when each dream is just a false
awakening loop; each threshold leads me further into a deeper
threshold? On the sixth day of my futile escape, I realize my
confinement is not of brick and mortar, but of the haunting messages
buried within the restless slumber I can never fully embrace.

                                     This life is a false narrative!
Zane Smith Jul 2022
with keeping myself together.
i'm trying to work on all the pieces.
i have nothing left.
i have the smallest will to live, even though
i know there is so much to do and see,
people to meet and places to go.
i just don't want to keep feeling how i feel.
i wish i was excited to wake up every morning.
like how i used to be when things felt good.
like when a new day felt like a new start.
not now
all it feel like is endless days.
the weeks repeat themselves.
the thoughts and feelings crawl back,
and i crumble at their touch.
i feel so dead
but so alive because i have so much going on.
i feel dead because i keep telling myself,
i will get through this exhausting time.
we're all struggling. i know.
but *******
it really hurts all the time
just to be
here.
11/1/2020 10:05PM
ryn Jun 2022
.
          These thoughts
are a haphazard
                 tessellation
of moments,
         sounds
           and scents -

  caught in a
      persistent loop…

         Such it is,
   that they herald
       no known beginning,
and yield
     no foreseeable end.


.
Dave Robertson Oct 2021
This is where the wet will be
when my wellies come out of hibernation
(though, technically, it’s aestivation,
every day’s a school day)

when someday soon, this loop,
this recuperative walk
will weigh heavy on my feet
with the mud of thought
and of the mud of actual mud

til then I’ll wend, mostly light footed
with the rattle of mowers
and threat-cackle of magpies
to score me
and though not Oscar worthy
the kite-screech soundtrack serves
Maloi Oct 2021
Stuck on a
Moment that
I want to repeat in a
Loop and don't like to
Escape ever.
it hits different when you smile
Valya Oct 2021
Tears stream down my eyes
As I realize that yet again
I am back to square one
Will I ever be able to get out of this loop
Or is this the life that I will be
Forced to live
The changes in emotion hit me so hard each time and it's slowly killing me...
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