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Breanna evans Jan 2019
they all got that new phone

that just came out last week

and with that and their cars,

they have noodles to eat

updating their socials

while at work at their job

and living so "healthy"

so wealthy

top shelf

with a case of Top Ramen

and e-books on self-help

a whole nation arranged

not to think, but consume

if this is our future, I'd say

we're all doomed
Breanna evans Jan 2019
on the interwebs wanking

and looking for ***

you might get some love

if you put down the tech

I have been people-watching

and the things I observed,

have left me much more

than a little disturbed

our future is doomed

as the youth of our nation

lack basic skills,

like communication

clean their cars out

for Facebook

'cos they think that the world

gives a **** how their face looks

and they want their neighbors,

friends to see

their perfect,

plastic "family"
Breanna evans Jan 2019
I try, but                                                                                              

It's hard to see the light through the                                                        
c                                                
r                                        
a                            
c                  
k        
s
in the window                      

through the                                                        
                                  o                                  
f        g                              
                                

i                        
n                    

m            
y        


m i n d
Major Rity Jan 2019
When the train passed
The airport
Just now
You were
So close
For a moment
Again
Now the rain pours
On the train tracks
And I'm watching
As it falls

Noticing
I got cold feet
And the skin on
My neck hurts
Ever since I put on
This golden necklace
From my auntie
Who passed away
Before the snow
Eight weeks ago

I removed it finally
Figured it out
With difficulty
My brother put it
Around my neck
Sitting behind my back
Four hours ago

It is pretty
But it is stinging
Very much
My skin and throat

And I did not understand
Exactly
How to get out

Almost got upset
But took a break
To breathe
Amidst stinging pain
Then opened the clip
And escaped

The feeling is fading
As I pass the next station
Darkness is falling
Fireworks burn the sky
Windy rains ambush
My train from the side

Going much faster now
A window is rattling
Shrieking wheels cut
The monotonous sounds

I lost my eBook
So I can not read to
Relax and distract
The visions that grow
Beyond comprehension
And still burns my throat

Why we do things
And others
We want
We do not do
Is such a something
I don't think I
Should think about

Why my throat burns
And my heart turns
When it is you
I think about
Ricky Dec 2018
(Rant)

It’s weird how people who are in charge of influencing our futures grow tired of doing just that, then complain how we lack direction.

I’m calling out the teachers who stoped caring about the complexities each child has in their life, and instead of taking the time to understand and help develop their abilities and talents, they have their students to the bare minimum to make their own jobs easier.

This doesn’t have to be just teachers though, it can be parents too. The ones who never learned to heal themselves so their child grows up in the dark looking up to people who lead them down the wrong path because that’s the only way they can get the love and attention they want.
It takes a whole village to raise a child.
Sam Tate Dec 2018
Her face is cracked and

Reflects her cold broken heart.

The world was not kind.
My first attempt at a Haiku
Fenixx Menefee Dec 2018
All around me, every day, I see them, lurking
Characters teasing me, praising me, staring at me, smirking
They're there every day, waiting, preying upon me, I'm their target
These characters of mine, I loathe them, they speak to me using an argot

Characters, they won't leave me alone, droning on and on in my head
I can't get rid of them, they'll never leave, each one I hope to shed
These characters most people call "voices," but that doesn't explain much
They hold onto me, suffocating me, they're a huge mental crutch

They're just holding me back, but I can't push them away, I hate it
Characters, I avoid and ignore them, but I share their pain, I'm a hypocrite
I despise them all, each and every one, I need them gone
These characters, these "voices," they're a "phenomenon."

Characters, such a repetitive topic, repetition is so boring
I hope I can keep this up a little longer, my abilities restoring
These characters limit the things I can do, I have a mental lock
I don't know how to express it, I might go into shock

I hope one day they'll leave me for good, they're such a pain
Characters I see, in the darkest puddles, and in each and every drop of rain
I can't ever get rid of them, they're here with me for life
These characters of mine will be with me, even in my afterlife
Jade Quirk Dec 2018
I believe I'm prone
to fear my unknown.
aj Dec 2018
I experienced
and I wrote:

When I think of you I feel like I am going to cry.
Well, I don't cry
but my stomach decides to cave in and collide with some sort of fluttering that feeds into my lungs
my heartbeat turns into more of a tick

into my stomach a small rock is dropped
it rolls around at the bottom
slowly it gets hot
the heat spreads up my throat and across my chest radiating down to where my elbows meet the inside of my forearms
from there, the energy pulses to my fingertips
its like buzzing but with the addition of tiny little ******
I feel that in my wrists

The heat grows heavier on my chest
now I feel it a bit behind my eyes
my hands that pulsed now throb along with my thighs
now the rock in my stomach decides to put press up on my spine
it tickles in a way that makes me want to laugh to relieve the pressure

I laugh but laughing leaves me feeling winded
my esophagus now thinly coated with a foggy thickness
the word that comes to mind when I think of it is dread

my spine is now a magnet that my ribs want to meet
I breathe out
they sink back towards my spine, reaching for something
my breathing feels forced but at the same time I can't control it

my thighs feel warm and almost swollen
my feet are already cold
each hair on my head seems to gain a pulse
certain ones even feel electric
the stinging in my nose tries to curdle my expression
I try not to let it
but my nose wants my cupid's bow and my jaw wants the corners of my mouth

the rock shifts around again, renouncing itself
my ribs suddenly collapse causing my to inhale my own exhaled breath
the stinging in my nose rides up behind my eyes and

(this is where I usually stop it, often with speech or with another laugh
images carry away sensation
I place them back into those mental pictures of pastimes and things potential and things yet to come, replacing the label with "sadness" with "hope"

knowing now that the rock is just my heart, it finds its way back up to the tiny box where it beats on the walls, constantly trying to find its way back out

I remember that hearts do good
I remember my lips, only then do I realize that they had gone numb
I think of warmth

the stinging in my arms, the picks and the pulses in my fingertips
those are the only things I can't beat
the energy at the inside of my elbows goes back up to my chest and  hovers over my heart

the hovering feeling never goes away

but I remember this energy is mine to live with and move on)

but if I don't stop, if there is a sense of weakness to my day
I feel the urge to smile almost
the burning in my eyes gets hotter, it usually comes in bursts
my vision turns to stained glass
the rock starts punching its way up my spine
my lower eyelids want to sink back towards my face, my eyebrows try to tie themselves in a bow
I try not to blink

now
If I'm lucky, my eyes tear up
If I'm not, tears roll down

my stainless masterpiece ruined by a contorted, conflicted smile-frown

I feel air on my tears
I breathe out and remember thought

my hands want to hold
my arms want to hug
my lips are numb but they know jut as well

that the catalyst has come full circle on this one, love
With this poem (monologue?) I had no intention other than to report with words the physical side of emotion. I just wrote as if I was reporting objective, physical sensations. My hope is to make this a series, maybe reflecting in this way within contrasting moments? Or maybe have other people report their own descriptions? Who knows where it will go. But please, enjoy.
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