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Malia Apr 3
People. Feel. Life. Time. Love. Hate. Day. Cold. Find. Lost. Good. Bad. Wrong. Write. Light. Dark. Heart. Mind. Eyes. Hear. Pain. Hope. Sun. Stars. Better. Afraid. Real. Thought. Help. Cry. Happy. Sad. Fire. Grow.



The light
And the dark
Right next to each other.

and God
Right next to each other.

These are my words:
Contradiction after contradiction.

This is who I am:
Everything, nothing, everywhere, nowhere
I decided to look at the little words tab in here, and there were all these words that seemed so contradictory, right next to each other, but i suppose that’s what happens when you try to write on what it’s like to be human.
Kirsten Hunt Mar 2022
I never wanted to love anyone
Love got me nowhere
Love still gets me nowhere
My little starfish
Mark Wanless Jan 2022
can you hear the voices
shouting out of nowhere
always saying live or die

don't listen to the others
walking on forever
blindly till they fall
Andrew Rueter Aug 2021
Transcendence is a lie
you’re not above it until you’re there.

Hedonism is a lie
once the costs start to add up.

Altruism is a lie
when living for others is living for the self.

There’s nowhere to turn
once it’s your turn.

Is there any way to save us from life
other than death?
Chad Young Jan 2021
Esteem of reflection billowing up whenever one puff fades.
Day in, day out.
Pass in, pass out.
Staring off into space, am I getting better at geometry?
Looking into the line of nowhere.
Physical lines may just happen to converge with this.
Darkness may happen to eclipse it.
A point happens to be on it.
A light happens to shine therein.
Lines may also conflict with it.
Colors may not align with it.
Conglomerations may exist there without any congruence.
People happen upon it.
Muscles and nerve endings traverse it.
Needs cross its consciousness.
Predictions cross over it too.
Some ideas are superseded here.
The esteem of reflection scans all areas: physical, emotional, and mental.

The internal image is destroyed, or ground to dust.

Sounds are implanted upon it.
An imaginary self-concept is manifested on it.
The cycle of new crossings re-circulates.
Like this whole poem only affected my knowledge and not reality.

I sit up.

My body is placed on this line.
Like it is on stage acting for this line.
Cleanliness and neatness cross it.
The esteem of reflection takes on the form of part of my body.

I lay back down.

The self-concept reiterates itself.
As if my body's forms must assert themselves.
Afraid to look at bold symbols.
Afraid to act like I touch the things in this room.
A sense of shared humanity is spit out by my head.

I am the weak and selfish one.
Not esteeming another.
Only esteeming me and my reflection.
Not sharing a room.
Like I'm pulling down and in.
With my head in the sand.

I consider knowledge that isn't directly observed as secondary.
And I don't mean observed in a book.

This self-concept becomes the center which organizes the things that cross the line of nowhere.
It is the best comparison to my physical self, yet a figment of my imagination.
It is shaped more by attention than by materiality.

It's funny how anointing is at once a rising over and a descending.
Yet it cannot fully transform my mind.
For even this blessing crosses the line of nowhere.
And the esteem of reflection rises above it.

But when the line of nowhere becomes the self-concept then the mind is fully transformed.
The esteem of reflection would have equality with the self-concept.
jǫrð Jan 2021
You lost that look that
Kept me by your door waiting
To see where we'd go
The History: I'm the dog that waits over zealous by the door, ready to pull the leash and gag itself. Simple dreams, I suppose but you forgot to take me out.
Andrew Rueter Dec 2020
Where am I going?
Where have I been?
have the same answer
it’s nowhere.
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