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neth jones Apr 2022
His :

i make my travel
reseeding you
                my dear heart
                      into a compact unit of storage

i relieve from our nesting comfort
dismiss our established downey base of cooperation
                                   cleave from our snared compromise

instead to bed and thieve an unshared atmosphere
guilty joy followed by joyful normality
no stale thing

unravelling light
  lifted
(secure
  that I've a capsule world
  when i turn
  toward our lap again)

goodbye of you i am mended
made completely free
                    on the first turn of a corner


& Hers :

you leave me
      on your travels (you-were-my-travels)
you leave me susceptible
my heart alters to become
       a weak permeable tissue of easy tamper
       membership structure is dissolved
         returned to the vital spill
           welcome fluent contamination
               villainess and godless vibration
                  of the goddess confession

dress hooked up past my waist
i'll power-**** away my morality on day one
each day following shall be made easy
  ushered along in brutalities slip steam
                        and the prom of eddies

back in time i've been working on something..
       i'll call it The ****** List
criminal joys and tasks of double self daring
committed
     (not folded over
       or veloped in the knicker drawer)
           it operates as a basking lurk
                               tucked discreetly
                                 correct behind the eye
                      a charm feature of the unconscious
when released
   it's something melkish and larking with energy
   tacking harm to my activated mischief
      kinetic value and uncontrollable spur

in your absence
     i am permissionless
abyssless
i account for nothing

nooks of the apartment
the memory of us quickly forms a ***** coral
i've stopped washing to suit this mode
my body, a journal of stains and earned bruises
i holla and bay at mementoes of our brace
and then stop at the near point of the neighbours tolerance

time has crushed in on its own thesis
become gummy and tenseless
skipping about in haphazard spasms
  backstep, bow and reversal
     now
          observably organic in motion
           and proud of its many personalities

Oh, You're Back Again !
    no, it is your ghost
is it a spy ? ... i doubt you knew you even had it
it threads in and out of my company
seeming baffled and far from its comfort zone
did i put you there ?
i don't call you
the physical you
because you said 'no phones'
              and 'only in emergencies' (is-this-urgent ?)
Is This Urgent ?!
i restrict where i live in here
     keep the windows widowed and veiled
it makes for an unreal canvas
i'm weeding for a correction
sensual precarious highs
violate
in a spate
with this time alone
i'll make our home a vile space
a defication
and i can make no sense assessment of it any
i fight against digestion within these premises
i stay still long enough i am softened and palped
            by a dense atmosphere and salivations of contact
and outside..

the streets are exhausted
and i've quite the nasty reputation
violence, baiting and thievery
inebriation and toxic language
i shall soon be policed
no doubt i've lost my job
for now our place is a dare for vandals
             when i am an insensible heap
                 and perspiring over you in delirium
                    they devalue the exterior

unearthing
i'll find my creative sprite
that is good
i had missed it
now this is urgent (this-is-mine-was-always)
i take up a notebook and puke it full
i take sticks in my mitt and scrawl my charcoal visions
the blood visions
   the primal mud
  on all our walls

can i piece back our home by your return ?
can I sufficiently correct the blurring history I've smutted ?
do i care to ?
no more fading into 'partner'
lease is up
you'll not find me here destroyed
or waiting
    naked but an apron with my hands cupped and mouth open
i'll have ravelled myself up tight
- having stoked my inhuman malady -
     i'll mate my own travels

                                                        ­             - aborted
neth jones Apr 2022
at a glimpse i clock the sky
a curtain's been draped
     and we are all shaded
all of nature shares one direction
     narrowing on the horror :
a munking and blotted violation
     the sun has filled with dark ink
an embolism out of the order of life
     voiding over us
                     over the city
                     the world described beyond
                       all voided over

i fall
         dropped
         and shucked
the people around me go simple
dumb and bound with crimple gawps
     we are mugged by the sight

i feel like a farmed over minefield
              furrows being turned
trotted out
             anointed fears climb my throat
it is a show sung ill
          sol
       darker sunk
     than its surrounding leadened soak
yet ringed tightly with an annihilating halo

practical thought becomes clotted
   and my primal processor is tinkered with
evil witterings squirrel about in my thinker
my being is topped up with depravity

i must surely **** someone ?
but who..
(that kid with drool ? /
that business suit with brand name trainers ?)
   and for what reason ?

i madly stare about
look at them ; so human and null
potential victims all
                   raking in snapshots of this ecliptic venom
                     adding to the vat collective online
Prune The Brutes !
it is The Eighth Day and I know my role
Ha !
        such livid thoughts scheme

i shall wait out this exposure looked down upon
take some pics with the others
perpetrate goodly behaviour
mimic the tossers
pass through the ordeal
        with communal protection
                    and live another day
             happy slapped
                       with fresh mad
                               thought
Aidan Apr 2022
Wonderland
The place for those who are mad.
But how mad is mad?
How mad can you be in a stressful day?
How mad can you be with something out of your control?
March Hare says he’s late for an important date.
Cheshire leads in the direction unwanted but needed.
So tell me,
How mad can wonderland be?
Loose screws
Lost ideas
Clueless identities
Tell me Alice,
So just how mad would you like to be?
As you know,
Only the best people have gone mad:
A brief trip down the rabbit hole.
M Apr 2022
I might leave my thoughts and reinvent myself.
Does desperation or envy get you killed faster?
Going back 200 years ago, it would've been depravity
If you re fortunate enough to have your basic needs met, you can indulge in diving deeper than thoughts, deeper than body and mind, further down the loophole until you reach your soul, primal and emotional state of living.
M Apr 2022
"You are not drowning"
Yet, CoStar.
I'm not sure if its amnesia im afraid of, or the mere thought that memories are no solid proof of living.
I'm back.. **** it's been a minute
nick armbrister Mar 2022
By Sixes
With this book we have to make a difference
The weight of worry and seriousness is huge
This has not happened before not this way
And very soon all things could happen
They try to control it but can they?
How do you control so many soldiers?
Along with the other shooters
Planes ships launchers tanks and more
Myself I've never felt this way
Except briefly in the early 80s
The world moved on in most ways
But not in Putin's head for him
He alone wants his empire back
And will ruin the world to get it
This is why we all must not fail
And stop him from winning
Even if the unthinkable happens
It has already started the walk
Sleep walking to Armageddon
NATO and Russia and the rest
This is really it...
Eve K Mar 2022
It's a tale as old as time,
Like a fine wine that's aged.
Getting more bitter, rather than sweeter.

I look in the mirror. My reflections stares back at me.
The edges blur and fizzle, waiting to reveal, to see.
The face in the mirror resembles my face, only less clear.
Instead she looks at me, eyes wide with fear.
She snarls her nose, growls and hisses.
I look back, in time, she reminisces.
About the days we would share the same face.
About a time, we lived in the same place.

Now she shouts, WHAT DO YOU WANT?
I scream, she continues to haunt.
Why don't you like me? What's so wrong?
YOU ARE WEAK, I SHOULD BE STRONG.

I look away, count to three.
Ground my feet, think of me.
I am not weak.
I look at her again. I am NOT weak,
I say with a look so bleak.
YOU ARE she judges,
JUST LOOK AT YOU, she begrudges.

I bite my nail, look away again.
I try to hide the pain.
The girl in the reflection laughs and chortles
YOOU ARE FEEBLE, just like all mortals.

I AM NOT! I scream. I AM ME AND WHO ARE YOU TO SAY?
THAT I AM JUST SOMEBODIES PRAY?
But look at you, getting defensive against your own reflection
You could say it's merely a deflection,
Of your self worth
You might as well be a still birth.
You bring no value to this world.
She spits the words, lips curled.
I HATE YOU.
I HATE YOU TOO.
OH BOOHOO POOR ME POOR YOU.

I collapse on the floor,
I can't take much more.
What will the next face bring?
I rise from the abyss,
I can barely withstand this.

The next face is kinder.
Another meek body behind her.
Who are you?
I ask askew.
I am you, and you are me.
Let me show you what I can see.
I see a person whose been through a lot.
Every-time they get back up, down they are shot.

I nod cautiously, is this a trick?
Quickly she'll be coming back, I'll be quick.
There's many faces that you can see,
Be it you, us or me.
I understand the torture you hold inside,
Let it go, be free, we want to take your side.
But how? I cry, tears falling of my cheek.
Keep going slowly, week, by week.
I nod slowly, I cry a lot more.
My arms are shaking my throat is sore.
I can't keep fighting, the monster in my mirror.
Every day she keeps coming nearer.

That's okay, you will see.
One of these days you will be me.
And the little girl hiding behind you?
It's another face of you know who.
I shakily nod, and enquire,
Why she's hiding, as if about to transpire.
She's hiding from the face in the mirror.
Just like you, it's becoming clearer.
We don't like what we can see.
I don't like it anymore please believe me.
I know, I know, my reflection says.
But please let it be just a haze.
The girl in the mirror stood before you.
You can choose what she does do.
It's a hard rope to walk, and I walk it well.
I know it's hard, for you to tell,
But you have a choice, a voice, a speech and sound.
It's hard when she's screaming, I feel drowned.
Shush now, it will be alright.
I can't keep fighting this ****** fight.
I feel so tired, exhausted and spent.
I know, I'm sorry but it's time we both went.

I stare at my reflection. She stares back at me.
Eyes brown, hair soft, no expression to see.
She doesn't blink. I don't too.
We are now the only two.
Blankly looking out at me.
Wishing that we both were free.
Who are you? I mouth at her,
She copies me with silence despair.
I don't know and **** my head.
She does too, heavy as lead.
I'm so drained, she echoes my words.
Is she mocking me, like mocking birds.
She scrunches her nose, as do I.
We nod to each other and say good bye.

I avoid the mirror the next day or two.
Hiding from the reflection, keeping out of view.
CIN Mar 2022
There must be madness swirling inside me
My stomach aches
A sickly urge in the back of my throat
I imagine it whirls around in my blood
Surging through my body like morphine
It spreads to my hands at first
A tremble of my fingers slipping glass from my hold
It glitters before my eyes
i feel it travel to my forearms creeping up into my biceps
Scars reopen and red spills
My fingers now coated in crimson
Then it's clogged my chest all to fast
It's getting harder to breathe but still my lungs fill with air
Heart squeezing, ribs popping out of place
Yet my body stays the same
From there it splits in two ways
One drips down into my stomach
then pooling in my feet and weighing me down
The other creeps up my neck
Taking the oxygen from my head
It starts to spill out my eyes
In tears of panic
And i remember the ways to stay sane
None of them work now
Nothing is working now
why must you call me crazy?
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