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you make my body quake
leave cracks in my esteem
and invite doubts
to harbor and fester as you
send a shiver down my spine
to drown my fire.

you soak up all the syllables.
that I was to mutter
so I stumble
and stand there mute
with my stomach heavy with nausea.

I take guilt bites
as I am lost in panicky howls.
while you lay out procrastination unevenly
and drink from the reservoir of my energy.

you trick my potential
wipe out my credential
leave nothing but
raspy and rough remnants for me
to draw from.

you rule the beats of my heart
pulling me out at the first hello.
you grip me,
whisper obscurely
whilst darkness grasps my sense
and wraps my dreams with dark matter.

with you my my soul
remains parched like the desert,
and my brain wrecked with nervosity
as the sensation spreads across my body.

But Fear,
I want to be one step ahead
of you this time.
I don’t want my fate to collapse
beneath your decisions.

I want to spell courage louder
than your stifling whispers
as I embrace opportunities
regardless of how daunting and risky you paint it to be.
Poetress2 Apr 7
At first I felt quite tingly,
when the withdrawals first set in;
Two days without my medicine,
I need my Klonopin!
Then I felt numb all over,
I'd bump into the walls;
I didn't even feel it,
though my bruises told it all.
I feared taking a shower,
that I'd encounter a Snake;
My fears were based on the withdrawls,
how much more could I take?
Nausea and Diahreah,
became my two, best friends;
For I had spent much time with them,
so I prayed, "When will this end?"
My appetite was no matter,
I couldn't eat a bite;
My appearance began to decline,
and I felt as if I would die.
I couldn't stand to be touched,
it actually made my skin sore;
I was at the end of my rope,
and I wondered, "How much more?"
But I survived the Hell,
that the lack of Klonepin caused;
I clung to my Heavenly Father,
and held His hand, because.
Through and through my mother is anorexic
You would be too if your environment was toxic
I can’t help but be sad when I come home late at night
And she’s asleep on the couch with tear stains from a fight
I bring back food from the restaurant I work at
She says she can’t have it because she’s too fat
Eventually she caves and I get her to eat
Fish, broccoli, fries, and red meat
She tells me it’s too late at night to eat snacks
Although she’s a normal weight her bones still sound like they crack
It’s now 1 am and I go to turn off the tv
She quickly wakes up and stairs blankly right at me
“Leave it. And turn the heat on”
She says to me, fighting a yawn
Before I leave I notice the wrappers
A caloric binge had clearly trapped her
And tomorrow I’m sure the cycle will repeat
As the image of my mother withers and retreats
Paulina Falomir Nov 2018
A veces me mareo de tanto blanco,
No se malentienda, gran color ese blanco
Sólo me marea verlo y verlo en todos los edificios,
Las paredes
Y no me marea el color en sí,
Me marea la intención
Me marea usar el blanco para adormecer
La sensación de acorralamiento en jaulas
Que doblegan voluntades
A través de necesidades

El ser estático en su jaula porque no hay más a donde ir
Y las jaulas blancas
Para que sienta paz
Y las paredes blancas
Para que esté tranquilo

Me marea el blanco
Me marean las intenciones
Las intenciones “blancas”

Me marea recurrir a colores
Para disfrazar crueles realidades
Nadie quiere estar sentado todo el día

Quizá me marea el truco
Me marea
Me marea el blanco y lo que implica
Me marea el uso

Y la pregunta, pero sí no el blanco entonces ¿quién?
Entonces ¿cuál?
No abundan opciones
De jaulas negras, de jaulas rojas, no vendría nada mejor
Tiene que ser el blanco
Y eso me marea

Probablemente me marea la realidad y yo
Yo lo refiero todo al blanco
Me marea tanto blanco
Had to be in spanish, it was mind *****
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2018
Feeling overwhelmed
A wave of nausea grows
My mind now pulses
Suddenly Im feeling super sick...
Not even aspirin is helping so go be safe,
I'm gonna hit the hay and post the freeverse tomorrow.
Sorry guys :(
I wish you all a good night!
Lyn ***
K Balachandran Jul 2018
Like **** on sewer,
Dark news floats on the page;
Sick, nauseating!
Marguerite Jul 2018
Here it comes again
--the acid creeping up my throat
Reminding me that the motion I perceive with my eyes
Does not coincide
With the motion of my mind.
The fluid in my ears, I find
Being steered by forces hidden behind
A curtain blinding my sight.

When I was six, the sickness would hit
When I was in the backseat going down winding streets.
The pain, I claimed, came from my jaw
But it wasn’t long until they saw
Splattered across the back bench of the car
--I was motion sick.

As a teen, cleaned from this curse,
Steering the machines that once made me squeam,
I thought I was free.
Until vertigo creeped into my seams.
Clear sight, but a spinning mind!
A crystal displaced in the skull behind my face
Would trace every turn through, as if it was reality who had forgotten to move.

Now nausea creeps in again as my mind perceives a reality that once again, my eyes can’t see.

All of my hopes
and dreams

so real to me…

But when my eyes look out to reality, they are nowhere
to be
And it makes me feel
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