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Is what I breathe really air?,
Or a dust filled with despair?
Is what I hear the sound of a dying steer,
Or just a scream of fear?
I know that it is there,
But don't know exactly where.
I should be unaware,
Until a dream of an heir,
Will be drowned in flares,
Till then,
The one that remains shall care.
Muddled is a state of bewildering confusion.
Hope you like it :)
Nat Lipstadt May 21
I am here, waiting patiently for her,
though long time no see
like in ever, like in never,
my absentia, dementia,
both critiques of self-censure,
here, then, my cadenza,
dedicated solely soulfully for you:

as the sabbath sun rises over the East River,
saying, mocking, laughing upon me,
“still here, though long time no see,”
for though I cannot never look upon her as well,
my sun, my sun,
yet she, too is everywhere-inside of me,
woman-sun, both warmly illuminating my muddled mind
Sarah Strack Mar 28
Foggy skies lie like a comforting blanket
The one I wrapped myself in at night.
Or an omnipresent, uncomfortable haze.
Like the smoke from your cigarette.

My eyes keep shifting views,
Until my muddled brain can’t handle it.
I’m thinking through your glasses,
Empty, but tequila soaked.

I can’t decide if I miss the sun.
The heat was nice to be sure,
But so many times I was burnt.
My skin charred and red.

You tell me to wear sunscreen.
That way I won’t get hurt,
But no matter how many layers,
The sun keeps marking my skin.

You like the clouds I know.
It’s easier when they hang around.
You hang around like a weight
I wish I were a cloud.
Pauline Morris May 2016
Muddy and muddled
My brain is befuddled
Twisted and bent
Life wasn't heaven sent
Battered and bruised
Only ever been used
Torn and tattered
Now nothing matters
Diced and sliced
By life's ****** knife
Crushed and ground
Nothing to be found
Drowning in pain
Not quite sane
Pauline Morris Feb 2016
Muddy and muddled
My brain is befuddled
Twisted and bent
Life wasn't heaven sent
Battered and bruised
Only ever been used
Torn and tattered
Now nothing matters
Diced and sliced
By life's ****** knife
Crushed and ground
No where to be found
Feeling numb saying words from the tip of my tongue.
A succinct expression deriving from a passionate exclamation.

— The End —