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they use to be just a black cloaked figures

Over Time

they grew faces
A shadow drapes itself across my naked body,
Weightless.. yet, heavy.
The shilouetted form cuts itself a share of my light.
Leaving behind a darkness.

Empty space.

Peering eyes, unseen.
I wish this were a dream.
Another sleepless night
Touch me
Burn me
Hurt me
Break me
Ache me
Caress me
Kiss me
Cuddle me
Feel me
Hit me
Rub me
Taste me
***** me
...**** me
(c) Allison Wonder
I am yours,
Or so it seems.
I give my all,
My everything.
Every night,
You continue to take.
My silent screams,
"I'll break! I'll break!"
But still you chase,
Still you win.
And once again,
I’ll give in.
I give my all,
My everything.
Because I am yours,
Or so it seems.
(c) Allison Wonder
Come in
Slide behind
Start our rythm
Get on your grind
Forget my feelings
I'm losing my mind
Don't need real life
To you I'm blind
Can feel every ache
Wish I could rewind
Know I'll always be hurt
To you I am confined
Just waiting for the day
To be reassigned
(c) Allison Wonder
lake Oct 6
is this what they call fate
and can it ever change
is that what they all say
the opinions stay the same
that bar just keeps on raising
and i'm shriveling up like raisins
been like that since the beginning
but by the end i hope i'm grinning
cause birds gotta leave their nests right
so i'm gonna live my best life
or drop like a deer in headlights
paralyzed in my dreams and nightlights
Klita Sep 17
Body wrapped in a blanket
Like a shield from the darkness
Creeping in the edge of my vision
Lurking and begging me to look

Stay awake
Must not sleep
Or the monsters in my dreams
Will consume me in my sleep

Stay awake
Must not dream
Or my nightmares
Will become reality

Sleep is calling me
With a gentle lullaby
Softly calling
softly Singing “ close your eyes”

Still I refuse
Resisting the tug on my eyelids
I must stay awake
Sleep must not win
Jon Thenes Sep 6
This generation knows only darkness
and sleeps on its back

the sleeper windmills violence in upon
it’s own sensory plate
                                       (the turbulence of
           ­                             and shapeless
                                        mood based dreams)

protest whine


a life less of assurance
awaiting instruction


Days are no fun
played out underground

A Mole baring task-force
A clunder

Muscle beings
reading the darkness


Tales held of the higher plane
an existence firm upon the roof terrain

Once a thriving insistence
ocular culture and unpushed air

This is what came to the generation
of post surface availability


The Moles are quaked
they raise in hunch
reach out for their boots and tools
begin the awake shift
Notes of The Post Apocalyptic Underground
Eliza Sep 2
i enjoy my sleep’s nightmares.
i find them lovely
for they are the closest i come
to feeling like i am about to die.

disappointment reeks when i awake.
Autmn T Aug 27
I do not know how to not spiral. I don't know how to catch myself when I fall. I don't know how to put up my hands and make the darkness turn to light. I don't know how to sleep when tonight won't strike 12. I can wait, but then I sit. Waiting for the moon to tell me that it will be the last thing I see and it will be beautiful. But what if I cant bring myself to believe it? What if 12 never comes? What if it never leaves? What if Im stuck there? What if theres just always another 12 to wait for in the inevitable tomorrow? What if I dont make it there?
I dont know how to not dwell.
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