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Mariana Berg Feb 3
I’m stuck in a loop day in and day out
A cycle that never ends
A cycle I can not break
No matter how hard I try to escape
It is a leach holding onto my time
Draining me of my mentality
I can’t control it no matter how hard I try
Luring me sweets and all kinds of treats for my brain to devour
It leads me to different locations
I for it so it keeps me happy
I used to be able to say goodbye whenever I wanted
But now I am chained
Being held underwater
Floating up for a second for a gasp of air
Then being held down
As the waves wash over me
It promises more fun

I know what to
I know what is right
The choice is easy
So why don’t I choose it
Again and again
It does things that I hate
It does things that others hate
Even though it makes me sad
Even though it hurts me
Breaking down trust and friendships
Everyday another rule is being added on
I don’t want help
It doesn't matter what other people say
Even if I know they are right
I know I need to leave
But I am trapped
Inside my own brain
It has a name
But I don’t like it
For some reason I still follow it
Procrastination
it feels like i'm stuck in
a never ending
night terror.

it's on loop and
won't stop
going and
going and
going and
going and
going and
going.

this is my cry for someone-
anyone to help me escape.
i can't handle it anymore...
Purcy Flaherty Nov 2018
Our love blossomed from the sheets, we liked to play but not for keeps.
You set me dancing on the air,
we lived our lives without a care.

Once or twice you bought me flowers,
we'd often talk for hours and hours.
We'd watch the rain through the sky
and play a game just you and I.

~ and there goes my soul again,
I gave my all and we're still friends.
There goes my soul,
There goes my soul,
There goes my soul again.

I've seen them walk down the road,
I've seen lovers come and go;
I've seen them smiling
and I've seen them drunk,
There goes my soul again.

Once or twice you bought me flowers,
we'd often talk for hours and hours.
We'd watch the rain through the sky
and play a game just you and I.

Sketching pictures in the sand,
picking apples hand-in-hand.
We drew the water from the stream,
our bellys busted at the seams.l

~ and there goes my soul again,
I gave my all and we're still friends.
There goes my soul,
There goes my soul,
There goes my soul again.
sSlow old time  jazz song in the key of G
sushii Nov 2018
the colored light forms the hours
the minutes

time ticking away
there is nothing left for this day

but i cannot go to sleep
for i always have light on me

you can’t unplug me either,
because then you cannot wake up




i can’t wait for the power to go out forever.
Yan F Oct 2018
she grabs me by my arms and pulls me close, much like she always does every single time it pours.

"you're standing under the rain again."

i could almost whisper alongside her. it's not like she says anything different anyway. always that same sentence. said under that same overcast sky. with that same calm concerned smile.

she never fails to make me feel more tepid inside.

"it is okay as long as i'm with you."
"not like we have a roof to stand under anyway".

she answers herself nearly synchronized with me. she knows exactly what i was to say.

"you can stay safe and dry in my arms instead."

i know she says those words every day but i never tire of listening to them. she has always been my fortress. i love her.

and i can barely understand why, but she always says that i am far too cold as she hugs me; to be honest all i feel is warmth. it puzzles me still—

whenever i close my eyes and say that this is the warmest i've ever been all she does is shake me as the rain grows ever so stronger.

her face just turns pale as if she's seeing a ghost in my place. i wonder what's wrong.

"can you hear me?"
"wake up!"
"hey open your eyes!"

"why are you screaming, mother."

all i can do is ask as calmly as i ever could.

"you're bothering the neighbors. i'm awake. i'm here."

i continue to speak out but maybe the rain is muffling out my voice? i don't know.

she looks cynical. much like the opposite of her cool and patient demeanor she always sports.

"no! not you too!"
"please stay!"

"i'm here mother, what's wrong!"

i try my best to shout watching her weep and sob incessantly calling out my name.

i hate it. she does this everyday. she doesn't ever stop. i hate it. i hate it. how can i make her stop?

"please."

i once again shout out but maybe the subsiding rain blocks that away from her ears like they did yesterday and the day before.

i hate to see mom like this. it isn't funny. i'm here! i'm not going away like dad and my big sister!

i'm always here.

"please don't go away."

she whispers once again holding me tighter. much much tighter than she ever did.

her arms almost passing right through me.

"mom, i can't breathe."
"are you alright?"

waterfalls of her tears wet my hair and fall straight to my heart. i can feel them. so so so warm.

it was almost dead silent if the rain hadn't  been taking away the words from my mouth.

"i'm sorry mom."
"i'll always be here for you"
"i love—"

"*******. you good for nothing, leaving me alone."

she whispers almost as soon as the tears subside. smiling. again. unsettlingly.

"mom?"

i don't know. i don't understand. i don't believe it.

"go on. go ahead. you want to leave? leave. leave me alone. that's what you always wanted to do didn't you? don't let me hold you back. go on. go away. go away like everyone else does."

she doesn't even wait for me to collect the proper words to reply. i've been trying to do so for weeks, months of this same dialogue in repeat. ever since she took me from that freaky hospital bed.

she stood up and walked past me. more like she walked through me. like i was a poltergeist.

doesn't she know that my soul is already anchored in her? i won't ever leave. she keeps me for ever safe.

i can't bare to watch her walk away. that is something i'll never ever do. i know she'll be back in a few minutes anyway.

mom will never let get sick in the rain after all...

so suddenly, she grabs me by the arms and pulls me close, much like she always does every single time it pours.

"you're standing under the rain again."

she says with a ridiculous smile.
for those wondering, this is not my standard format. this is not a poem. this is a fortress mother and child built. it will last. nothing can stand stronger than a house built from nothing.

nothing left to be touched.
nothing left to be stolen.
nothing left to be hurt.
nothing left to be destroyed.
nothing.
Ophélie S Sep 2018
yes,
breathing filth hurts
we've known it far too well for comfort ;
clogged hearts

/

this is not opposites attract but
polar sames —
you scrub your hands for
the sixty seventh time this week and
i scrub your footprints off the bedroom floor with
ritual sanctimony —
the house reeks of turpentine but
it's the smell of c l e a n

/

yes,
it goes just like this
the repeating loop of a washing machine ;
mirror stains

.
Purcy Flaherty Mar 2018
Image is everything and lies are addictive, white lies become **** truths in a malevolent world.
~ You will bind the best people available; you'll enter thier clique  in order to further enhance your image and validate your own false reality; once your host is unable to enhance your facade they will be discarded and you will move on to the best people available to you; in order to further enhance your image and validate your false reality., once they are unable to enhance your facade, they will be discarded and you will move on to the best people available to you; in order to further enhance your image and validate your false reality.
This cycle is destined to go on and on and on throughout your entire life-cycle. "What a state of being!"
Climbing will always have it's downfalls !
No  direction just a circle.
List in a loop.
KingOfHearts Aug 2018
Something about this world is clockwork.
Just watch people live, see the Earth hurt.
By-standing the impending pain to come.
It's easier hushing the screaming some.
Some say yes when they mean no.
A game of tag against a ghost.
Sometimes we wake back into dreams.
Know that nothing's what it may seem.
Leaving is coming, as nothing is something.
When eating is starving, the silence is fussing.
A tragedy's living in a paradox,
Where does time even go when there isn't a clock?
I hope this isn't super confusing. Interpret it how you will.
Brandon Conway Aug 2018
Life is a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
Until the needle is lifted
and moved somewhere new
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