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kaylin adarne May 15
there's always regret  
drinking coffee in the afternoon

staying awake all night
thinking without stopping
come daylight
i feel useless

there's always regret
drinking coffee

but i'd stay awake all night
thinking that it's worth it
if it's about you
fear will always be there too.
Mother God planted the seed of joy in me but I am still at war with what eternity entails,
sugar peaches kissed in sunless shades,
the fruits of heavens melt evermore,
cosmic outburst at the limit of human perception,
come, steal my fashion, besiege my immortality.
Baylee Kaye Apr 12
my days are longer without you near
the sun sets slower, and my nights stay darker
the clock is ticking but I feel no remnant
I drag my feet behind me with my chin to my chest
kicking up dust with my shoes
what I live is a pattern of monotony
a constant loop of never-ending tedium
the rising and setting of the sun is all the same
it’s a pointless cycle of idle moments
sitting still instead of doing
each hour is a broken record catching on its hinge
it doesn’t move forward, but neither backward
not until I spend my days next to you
because seconds last longer when I’m not with you
Cora Mar 18
you should appreciate your little victories
i do

for example today,
i conquered my telephone-phobia

if only you could see
my hands
valiantly reaching
to
call
off
that
dentist
appointment
coping with my dumb decisions through irony
AvengingPoet Mar 3
I’m simply suggesting
Clamoring and asking
But I’m a man now, boy

The water is running
The drain is busted
But I’m a man now, boy

And so I ask you another question
In ***** of anxiety
But I’m a man now, boy

I want to run away
I’m certain I can
But I’m a man now, boy

I have one last thing to say
Is the numbness everlasting
Oh god it’s so mundane
Day in, day out
Same ****, different struggle
I guess I’m a man now, boy

My lungs filled with air
I guess this is living.
Juhlhaus Feb 24
Outside two squirrels foraging
Inside one hundred and one keys tapping
Three buttons clicking and one wheel spinning
Eight hours a day sitting badly
In an ergonomic desk chair
Soft fingers tap on plastic and glass
Weak muscle memory of calluses and splinters
And sunburn blisters from another life
Outside the old prairie wind howls like a phantom
Lost in urban canyons buffets the panes
Drives the torrents of freezing rain
Hard droplets tap on metal and glass
While inside high-rise terrariums we sit
Generating transient value that flits
Up into the clouds till whenever
You tap plastic to trade your invisible worth
For a hot meal in a disposable bowl
Ponder and sip in another life you could be
Spending eight hours a day in the freezing rain
Hunting squirrels for soup
A whimsical corollary to my previous poem, Soup for Squirrels.
Juhlhaus Feb 21
I sat outside today eating sushi and miso soup in the sun
Some squirrels came by and stared at me hopefully
I put a bit of miso soup in the lid and set it out for them
But they weren't interested
Then a gust of cold wind blew the lid over and the soup was spilled
One of the squirrels went for the crumbs in an old potato chip bag instead
A somewhat poetic anecdote from my lunch hour.
‪petty and selfish,‬
‪The path to peace, no recourse.‬
‪I have no remorse.‬
I'm aware it's a petty precarious peace... but peace none the less especially when she stays out of reach.
sushii Jan 28
On a day such as this,
I return from my tiring work.
On a day such as this,
I return to this dull world.

I hear it once more--
The droning, and the grayness it explores.

I feel it coming--
The humming, and the slight drumming...

The thinning beats are composed of children's pitter-patter,
And sullen ***** dish clatter.
The tuneless melody speaks of pointless meanings,
And empty greetings.

I hear it once more--
The droning, and the grayness it explores.

I feel it coming--
The humming, and the slight drumming...

I hear it one more time--
Or so I think,
For the part of me that understands
Has already died.
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