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Thomas W Case Oct 2023
I have come through
the wildfires and
abject poverty.
The sardine days filled
with ghoulish women and
cowardly men.
Now, I have four
walls, and a table to
write at.
I've decorated my castle:
pictures and tapestries,
a raven figurine sitting
on a stump by the aloe vera.
I have a bookshelf from
the curb; all my
favorites are on it.
I turned my brother onto,
A Confederacy of Dunces
I hear him laugh from his
4 walls.
He escaped the
parasitical nights and the
neon souled undead.

It's a great life if
you don't succumb to
the crowd and the slugs that
just slide on through.
Now, it's the simple
things that bring me pleasure:
house plants, coffee brewing,
and the sound of my
neighbor watering his grass.
I think I will get a goldfish.
All perfect and orange.
And on the fringe, I hear
that feral cat, howling in
the night, without his
4 walls.

amazon link to new book
birdy Apr 2022
The pleasant chatter of the birds,
the mellifluous cries of the herds.
Curtis Owens Nov 2021
I have nothing to write
I am Empty inside.
Unsure if I have been robbed by medication or maturation
or perhaps emotional numbness has caused this.

I do not see the seasons change or the flowers bloom and die.
I see dead leaves, polluted skies.
oppressed peoples, blind eyes.

My empathy has been sapped from me by many years of life.
I am reminded constantly that I’m powerless
to aid them in their strife
women, men and children suffering through life
but someone is helping them, probably, and that’s nice.

then life goes on
again and
tomorrow I am told
suffering exists, numbness is bliss. please return to your clockwork life

Yours’s sincerely Head manager Mrs...
Skyler May 2021
Will you come meet me
At the horizon?
Past the willow trees,

Through the meadows,
Where their bodies
Rot and decompose.

The crows come to feast
On unspoken promises
And love that has ceased.

Now look ahead
Across the frozen lake,
Where few dare to tread,

Lest their disguise
Shatter and sink
Before sunken eyes

Beyond the wasteland
Of woes and lovers
You'll come to stand.

Where beats cry in the night
Woeful of those before
Now passing as mere wights.

Gazing at the cosmos,
I lie still
Having kept my soul close.

Will you come meet me
At the horizon
Past the willow trees?
annh Oct 2021
πš‚πš˜πš–πš‹πš›πšŽ πš™πšŽπš›πšŒπšžπšœπšœπš’πš˜πš— πš›πšŽπšπšžπšŒπšŽπšœ πšŒπšŠπš•πšŽπš—πšπšŠπš› 𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚜
πšƒπš˜ πš™πšŽπš•πšπš’πš—πš πš›πšŠπš’πš— πšŠπš—πš πš πš’πšœπš‘πšπšžπš• πšπš‘πš’πš—πš”πš’πš—πš,
π™°πšœ πšœπš’πš–πš™πš‘πš˜πš—πš’πšŒ πšπš›πšŠπš’πš•πšπš’πšŽπšœ πšŒπš•πšŠπšœπš‘ πšπš‘πšŽπš— πš™πšŽπšŠπšŒπšŽπšŠπš‹πš•πš’ πšœπšžπš‹πšœπš’πšπšŽ;

π™Έπš—πšπš’πš–πšŠπšπšŽπš•πš’ πš πš˜πšŸπšŽπš— πšπš›πš˜πš– πšπšžπšœπš”πš’ πšœπš’πš•πšŽπš—πšŒπšŽ,
π™΄πš–πšŽπš›πšπš’πš—πš πšœπš˜πšπšπš•πš’ πš’πš—πšπš˜ πš™πš’πšŒπšŒπš˜πš•πš˜-πšπšŠπš™πš™πš•πšŽπš πšœπšžπš—πš•πš’πšπš‘πš,
π™ΌπšŽπš•πš•πš˜πš  π™°πšžπšπšžπš–πš— πšœπš’πšπš‘πšœ πšŠπš—πš πš†πš’πš—πšπšŽπš›'𝚜 πš›πš’πšπš˜πšžπš› πšœπš—πšŠπš™πšœ;

πšƒπš‘πšŽ πšπš’πš›πšœπš 𝚝𝚘 πšπšŠπš•πš•,
𝙰 πšœπš’πš—πšπš•πšŽ πš—πš˜πšπšŽ
πš‚πšπšžπšπšπšŽπš›πš’πš—πš πšπšŽπš—πšπš•πš’.

β€˜Springtime is upon us. The birds celebrate her return with festive song, and murmuring streams are softly caressed by the breezes.’
- Antonio Vivaldi
I swallow your words
And begin to mellow out.
Turbulence in my bloodstream,
Yet static numbness all throughout.

An accent laced with malice,
By a tongue that knew no sympathy.
You graced me with the fortunes
Of love's complex simplicities.

Love baffles.
Love hurts.
Trivial hearts.
qeren Jan 2021
I told the stars about you,

how your fingers trace my skin
how your breath blew my eyelids
how your smile enchants my soul
how your presence erased mine

I still told the stars about you,

how your lies swept me off my feet
how your love tore me apart
how your embrace clench my lungs
how you shatter me

I've stopped talking to the stars
qeren Dec 2020
though our wind no longer swayed in the same direction
though our sun doesn't rise at the same time
and though our ocean doesn't bear the same wave
my dear,
I've always prayed
from the inmost part of my soul
that your path will always be filled with joy and happiness
and that everything around you
will also eradiate warmth
so that the dark lacuna and the brisk part of this world
won't make you feel left alone

so that neither solitude
nor my absenteeism
will cast you away to the brink of inconsistency
and self-loathing

until then . . .
Keith W Fletcher Sep 2020
I can't say that I don't care
That I fell into disrepair
but it seems that I am there
and it really really is nowhere
nowhere thatΒ Β I want to be
holds no views I want to see
I need to find a remedy
I am sick and I am tired
of this life in which I am mired
I don't have to be admired
just want to have a voice for choice
is all I have ever desired
choose the way you want to live
choose how much of you..
... you want to give
don't try to always relive those partsΒ Β parts of you....
... that you decided to give.... away
at last
to the past
I can't say that I don't care
that I once fell into..... disrepair!
Curtis Owens Aug 2020
I want to die


honestly though; I just want to be okay
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