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S R Mats Mar 2015
Her burial place is in the records.
We have her lovely name.
She was a benefactor of the friary,
Thus, a prominent soul.  Agreed.
Her story, lost forever.  O, what a shame.
Nothing more is known of Emma.
Here's her 5 minutes of fame!
Sydney Ann Feb 2015
I'm just four
To five
Seconds from leaving
This place
Ten long seconds of dying,
After eight
Long days of wanting your
Hand by my side
I swear no one can lift me up higher

If I could claim just six
Short
Seconds of talking
Or maybe a couple
More
Days
To just be by your side
I promise
I would survive
Mile Conde Jan 2015
Destiny is mute.
Soundless.
We create our own fate
Or we get carried away by it's currents.

Uncertain paths await for us.
Waiting to be transited.
While undying hands run against the past
And minutes turn into hours.

The clock is impatient.
It won't stop for anyone.
Keep walking, you passer-by
Or you'll get stuck in a memory.

There's not an end for everything.
There are things that are eternal.
Your hand in mine is timeless
Our joined hips are feral.
Life goes by fast enough for us to realize that being detached and fearful keeps you from really living.
Phoebe Hynes Jan 2015
I've looked up one every moment we've had together, tonight.
My mind Transforms into a theater, while my memories of you construct film.
Being with you feels as though I am walking through novels.
You are my favorite author, a special inspiration.
Every minute consumed of you and me, formulates a new page.
All these occurrences keep me turning, and turning.
Once each portion concludes, Its more I crave.
I guess you can’t spend every waking minute reading.
Do you hear that?
Reality is calling, suffering immediate withdrawal.
It’s inevitably necessary to witness the future and make it a current event.
Because I can not stand the thought of remaining, just, here.
For an instant let me glance further.
Curiosity is flammable.
I'll be sure to tip toe around the words, in hopes of not igniting anything.
I have never been so impatient and selfish.
Have you failed to mention you’re still writing?
Or, was I too deep in my head that instant?
Regardless,
You,
Take your time.
I'll be directing a movie in my mind.
I. centipede:
-
They come from both directions and it doesn't take long
for me to realize that they've figured me out.
My mind was fast, but not as swift as the hands
of five-hundred outreaching hands; one angry crowd.
Grabbing at limbs, low and high, they don't waste a second
before tearing me in every direction; at least the cardinal four.
My mind takes flight, leaves fancy, but not before
I get in one last swear, and one last spittle in their faces.

II. snake
-
Tail and head aren't in sync this morning, I tell ya.
No rattle, no bite, just a lot of traffic and heat shimmers
in the one place I don't need to be today.
The people here act like they don't know me,
but they still turn their noses up when I empty my mug.
The waitress answers when spoken to,
but just stares in the time in between wheezing breaths.
I've got to get out of this county, this state.

III. scorpion
-
Ronny hasn't been on a roof since a couple years after we got married.
He wrapped his ankle in some gutters and took a spill;
his thigh popped right out of it's socket and he just dangled
like some kind of prize in one of those crane games.
Doctor says he can still have kids, and I know he can still get it up
from how he watches that ****** **** on t.v.
But he wont touch me; hasn't in fifteen months, I've counted.
He's in for a surprise once the settlement clears.

IV. lizard
-
Wallflowers never get anywhere with their mouths sewn shut
and I cut my stitches well before my teens;
I got what I needed and I made sure of it.
But there is something to be gained from
basking in the naivety of youth and ignorance.
Trouble doesn't set in as well, and boredom comes
as some kind of waiting period, rather than the norm.
These bars are a reminder of why they don't let me make the rules.

V. toad
-
Invulnerable, incontestable, unphasable, archetype.
I listen for the right words to drop the shields,
but I'm only met with the silence that accompanies
asphyxiation through means of wet wax paper.
The touch of phantoms tingle along my skeleton's core
telling me the time for lollygagging has long since passed.
Stand up, giant, you're running hot and the moon
keeps calling out, "follow the lit road home".
tlp
Sydney Ann Jan 2015
Fog
On those mornings,
and days,
weeks
that last for years
where my head is foggy
every second,
foggily upset
and unable to grasp
what the real problem is
if there is an actual problem to begin with
the best thing to do
is not make any decisions
'cause you'll regret them
forever.
Nikki de Leon Jan 2015
The night you left, I slept for 3 hours and 21 minutes
Which was no use
Every hour, I woke up
Praying that it was a bad dream
Hoping that you were still there
Shutting my eyes
Accepting again and again
That you were never coming back
There was some sort of comfort in that
I wouldn't have known what to do
If we ever crossed paths
6 months have passed, and I’m still stuck
With the deafening silence you left behind
With the meaningless words you said
With the heavy secrets I swore not to tell
With the thought of who I thought you were
With the truth of who you really turned out to be
Stuck with you
You’re 1,769 miles away and yet
I can still feel you everywhere I go
A ghost trailing me, watching my every step
Waiting for me to break down
Waiting to whisper “You still need me”
-
I used to check my phone every 5 minutes
Glimpsing to see if you left me a message
Not out of concern, but out of habit
And old habits die hard
Now I only check my phone to look at the time
Someone once told me that time heals all wounds
They obviously haven’t met you
Because no matter how long it’s been
Time will never be able to heal the wound
That you left behind after you said goodbye
To me, to us
9 months, 20 days, and 1,769 miles ago
Omar Kawash Dec 2014
8450 plus one. But you are always ahead of me by 84.
But this doesn't stop me from trying to catch up to you. I can try and fill those 120960 moments with my leaps over cracks in the sidewalk to reach your side.
Yet you've whispered to me, I'm not a digit over 7355. That you've watched the ticker count, and it announces every 1440 moments that  7355 has not changed for 1040 repetitions.  
I can hear in your exhale that staring at the defunct device has been in vain. That your desires, for it to be somewhere near your own 8534, are blatantly not occurring. I feel the heat of your blood as the rush fills your mind that if you stare any longer, your counter will pause too.
You tell me that there has been a problem regarding my recorder and there is nothing you could do because you had to tend to your own to ensure it wouldn't falter.
You don't know that I am a mechanic. And I diligently examine the mechanism. The gears for the face in mine have not been greased.
I had always just kept the clock wound - forgetting that it is useless for a watch to move forward, if it never displays the correct time.
kylie formella Nov 2014
i wonder when my skin will feel safe and comfortable again
i know you don't want to be
in this small room that smells like
my grandmother's clothes
(she died five years ago, did you know?)
your hands are on me and we can go ahead and pretend it feels natural
we're kids playing at being grown ups
with mommys high-heels
they have you walking on hell and the shoes are much too big
for your little feet
and the boys, wearing their father's ties which are much too long
they've got daddy's guns too, in the trunk
they've got daddy's drinking habits too
and you've got your big sister's cigarettes
why do they call it seven minutes in heaven when
this feels much more like the
firey place they call hell
we're all smiling, we're all laughing
we're upside down and floating in the sky
asking ourselves why
because we're too shy to say these words
aloud
too high to say these words
underground
we can leave the closet now,
its been far past seven minutes
VP Nov 2014
7 minutes pass by

a flash of light captures your gaze
pulling you back into reality
out of the daydreams filled with words that were never spoken
you reach for the phone
holding your breath
smug with the thought of the content in the message that lit up your screen

your smirk fades
almost faster than the hope in your heart

it wasn't her

13 minutes

but you were so clever weren't you?
you know her like the back of your hand
how could she resit replying?
how could the anger not boil right through to the tip of her fingers
causing her to-

38 minutes

your fingertips flash red
matching the colour of rage in your heart  
all you wanted was to see the words that flowed from her mind
her beautiful mind
imprinted onto your screen
so that maybe, just maybe
her soft voice would reply in your mind once more

72 minutes

a tear rolls down your cheek
your rage has melted into a puddle of water
like the thunderstorm that turns to rainfall when it can no longer handle being angry at the earth

86 minutes

realization washes over you
she doesn't care.
you can't fill her with an anger that will make steam pour from her ears
if she no longer drinks the water to fuel the steam
you cannot cut holes through her heart
when its already been sliced like Swiss cheese
you cannot tell her you love her
after she stopped counting the minutes it took you prove it
this is the story of a boy who messages his ex love & fails to receive the reply he craved
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