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August 3d
so, there was this one day, a few years ago.
i think you know which one i'm talking about.

listens for a moment

right! and i tripped-
that hasn't changed, i'm still a klutz-
and you grabbed my hand and dipped me
just the way your mama taught you in second grade
and pretended to kiss me?

listens for a moment. laughs

yeah. that was the day i knew you'd always be around.
so, even though you're leaving now...


whether or not you want to...

turns around, paces for a moment

i know you're not really leaving.
because you're still...

listens, rolls eyes

yeah, i know it's corny, but it's true.
you're still right here.

taps chest, right over heart

you can't leave that.
Isabella Oct 17
How can I possibly expect someone to love me when I can’t even tolerate myself.
How can I hope to be somebody, anybody, when I’m nothing but a blink amidst the infinite abyss of existence.
Even on my own planet my life won’t be much to remember.
An enemy to myself, a stranger to the world.
Isn’t it unnerving to realize that if I slipped away, the planet wouldn’t know any different.
The ground wouldn’t miss my steps and the sky wouldn’t grieve my gaze and the atmosphere wouldn’t mourn my breaths.
Just another body that doesn’t stay, only fades and eventually decays.
This is why legacy is so important, I suppose.
The only way a soul can truly live on.
Even if earth would go on just the same, even if history wouldn’t notice me gone.
-elixir- Jul 6
Become the beast,
look in the mirror,
stop hiding,
observe the splinters
of the lies burrowed within,
embrace the bitter pain,
as you accept the hypocrisy
of the lies, listen to the
howls of your hunger
for the vicious revenge,
as you lead the pack,
of the hidden fire in
your soul,
Let the beast strengthen your soul
NC Burch May 9
Ah, intergenerational envy!
I think we've all been subject
to that impulse now and then.
Like paying tribute
through ritual can change our fate.
Like we can right some cosmic wrong
that left us displaced decades or centuries.

Oh, child of the past!
Gird yourself with books
and records and films.
Barricade the way
leading your present to your future.

Abandon all hope ye who enter here!
For the past is a dream differed,
ripe only for those who pluck it
with a backwards glance.
And the future is grim.
Deep Mar 22
'Eternal Return'? Why?
If things will keep recurring why is so much exertion?
Would I share a gleeful laugh and cry a passionate cry
Knowing  the same happiness and sorrows will recur
again and again?
It took years to reach a summit, toiling and crawling,
A slight imbalance, and again we are hurled to the beginning.
Is, Sisyphus, only a mythical figure? If yes,
Then, why I see him in me?

Take a handful of men of bygone days, and contrast with
Our time, drop the embellishments of each century,
And see the patterns that emerge, ask them, what were the new ways
That helped to curb pain, answer;
"Slowly the pain is eased but increased the suffering."
Are pain and suffering different?

When was the last time you loved someone?
Do you remember the days after they were gone? Yes?
Then, why are you in love again?
And most importantly, whom are you in love with?
The person or the suffering they bring?

If Everything recurs 'ad infinitum',
Then can we avert the things already occurred
In past, from occurring again?
Or we have lost the aptitude for resemblances?
Invention demands an offering of natural ability.
Have we gained half of we lost?
What is the tipping point for this offering and trade?

It's good I do not have to worry much,
For me, the world ends the day I die.
Theory of ETERNAL RETURN promoted by Nietzsche that says things will keep recurring again and again.
Tina RSH Feb 26
Mother! Mother! You doubt my senses
I have barely lived two decades
pulling thorns off my heart's delicate petals
I am scythed around the stem
and smothered deep in the roots
Riding these tidal waves of breath for survival.

O senses!
O senses!

Darling! You said my love was irrelevant
but to this day I celebrate it, watering
dried daffodils on the green outskirts of your shirt
to savour your scent of six months ago
Each drop of sweat on your face
as you dug a tunnel into my very soul
and took over this fleshy frame
O irrelevance!
O irrelevance!

I have trudged a dozen miles in the horizon
barefoot, bareskin, bare minded
Bathed at the gracious hand of sun
in the endless sea of love the earth sold
at one heartbreak per drop.

O earth!
O love!
It's the first poem with a better wrapup than others imo. Had difficulty finding a proper name because ughhh too many feelings to fit in one phrase we are.
I don’t want to see you anymore
For I should have always hated you
But I didn’t, because I just met you
In a hallway, I didn’t necessarily like…
But more of all because in the phrase sugar and spice
You seemed like the sugar but turned out to be the only reason I cried

It’s been a while now and I just want to ask you what have I done?
It’s about everyday that I hear new things about me.
I just want to let you know that all my life I’ve perceived from the sight of some other
Only your vision is one I have not come across to see.
In this tiny life of mine never have I crossed paths with someone who has a perspective like this towards anybody

I don’t blame you,
For I am the one at fault.

Not because you were a nice person
Neither because I probably did something
But I am here because I believed in you.
I believed that anything I do, you. Would not turn
But, I was wrong.

That is why every day next to the wall that is covered with dents and the paint that this world calls blood I wonder
What is worse than caring for someone who never cared for you back
My response Is caring for someone who never knew.
Days pass, years too
And as these hours go by you are no longer the person you once knew
You are dead, dissipating in this thin, cold air. Deceased.

So, to the other side of my soul,
Please, stop.
Quit acting like the sugar in my life because, in the end, I have to suffer, not you.
Quit being the vision that see-through but just cannot hold afar and sight.
Quit being me because if this goes on then I don’t want to see you anymore.
To the other side of my body
Why don’t you love me, can you not see me cry?

I am breaking down next to you why can’t you stop me?
Do you really think I like to break us like this, never.
So to the side of me are you ready for leaving, have you packed your bag full of memories?
Because if I could hate you then I would
But, you are weaved into my spirit and these needles don’t work.
Don’t lurk behind someone who you hate.
Do what you have always done leave me in the dirt
For one of us needs to go.
I have never actually liked myself for as long as I can remember, this is a message to my worst enemy.
My name is Julie Chatterbox,
I do waste thoughts a lot,
I can perform my monologue,
My brain does a yap a lot,
All I have to say,
Is raise your coffee this way,
To stinking thinking, okay?
If you want an opinion, ask me,
I can indulge in repartee!
Feeback welcome, know thyself.
Shawn Awagu Dec 2019
Normally this isn’t the way it goes, but this time I’ll do differently
And so I ask who are you? What is your name?
Do you like running? I do as long as I can breathe

I dream of a day where I can run freely in silent poplar forests without my lungs weighing me down

What is your favorite kind of music? Do you like pop, rock, or hip-hop?
Is your soul kneaded and worked by tender hands like Jazz? Swing?

I may not look the part, but I love classical music; there’s something about listening to Chopin’s Nocturnes that makes me feel as if I am right there with him, sitting in the pews of an abandoned church whose dead parishioners long ago grew bored of contemplating their sins. I feel as if I am gently sipping his breath like one would coffee that’s still a bit too hot, savoring the stories he weaves out of thin piano strings that taste like moonlight
It is a flavor that seldom is tiresome
I wish I could cook some for you

If you could go anywhere, anywhere in the world, where would it be?
Would you roll into an airport with your luggage in New York? Tokyo?
Would you brave the crushing heat of Cairo for a glimpse of Giza?

I would go anywhere, anywhere you’d like, as long as we come home
I’ll open the door and immediately turn on the space heater—I can sense you hate being cold
While the tea is warming on the stove, we’ll talk about your favorite artist’s best album
Listening until we’re interrupted by the shrill shriek of a teapot needing attention
And that night I will dream that my footsteps will never be lonely

I’m terribly sorry, who are you and what is your name?
I do not know; you are there and I am in here; my mouth is so dry it hurts

Neither coffee nor alcohol can spur me to action
There is nothing I can drink
I can imagine, but I will never ask
I already have, so many times
A letter from the past
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