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At The Cafe
I heard her say to the teary-eyed lady
as they sliced their custard creams,
" Move on and go find someone else"
As if suggesting to take that knife and slice
that face out of her brain and replace it with
another. As if perhaps she should cut out
her heart and separate it from the rest of
her. I suppose the thoughtless lady was only
trying to help. I suppose that's normal procedure
in such circumstances. Like quickly go find a
lollipop for god's sake.
I felt like saying to the broken woman;
wait a bit. No need to be in such a rush.
This terrible ache, this fierce wrenching
this oozing sore is love disguised.
You'll come to it. You will. No substitute
That someone else is waiting
in the dim horizon, fresh faced and true
with eyes that pierce through
the mish mash of dough and syrup
of wounds and ruins of love and war
and sharp metal objects.
That someone else is you, whole
and undisguised.
You can't rush that.
You'll come to it
You will.
The sorrow of loss, breakup, the slow journey through the shadow into acceptance. Finding oneself in the midst of despair without trying to find a new fix.
Ash C Feb 2020
There's this corner in the living room I hate
It's gonna hurt me
I will get sick from it
It's got bugs
It's darker as it gets lower into the tip of the corner
I feel like it has eyes sometimes
I don't wanna look at it
It looks at me when I sleep
I don't wanna move my pillow to that side ever
It could be a giant black oozing monster
I'm afraid I smell it
I don't wanna touch it
It's gonna hurt me
Yet I still sleep with my bed in that corner
There really is this corner i hate in my living room
stopdoopy Sep 2019
so much to give
but so closed off

a glass
filled to the brim
waiting to spill

others take tentative sips
or pour it out completely

I just want to be savored
drank slowly over time
enjoyed through all seasons

while my heart may be punctured
oozing out love to anyone who looks
my bones are hard and sharp
waiting to poke through this flesh
and stab if need be

to want to love
so freely
to want to receive
the same

you'd think it'd be easier
to crack open this ribcage
thy body electric experiences
     constant dry cough and wheeze'n
perhaps explainable
     via my headstrong commander in chief

     o' me fifty nine shades of gray matter
     resorting to treason
or deploying high crimes
     and misdemeanors

     during this budding spring season
thus, aye wonder what tooth ink
     when there occurs
     a momentary lapse of reason

noah egg zag jeer rate'n,
     boot aye ham loath to axe 'cept
the onset of degenerative brain disorder

     with ma noggin buzzing like bees
perhaps indicative of Alzheimer's
     notorious amyloid
     gunk plaque hard as cheese
     Parkinson's, Huntington's Chorea disease,
or gamut of other no nonsense

     mind playing game oh yea...absolutely much
     worse than itching with fleas
Diffuse Lewy Body Malady,
     (now thought to be the second
     most common type of dementia,
     akin to Google times anxiety
     over a set plus spare lost black keys
Vascular Dementia, Frontotemporal Dementia
     (FTD - Also known as
     Pick's Disease), Depression,
     Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus, ba jeez
perhaps inducing knock knees

Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease (CJD), where pleas
to divine entity, or merely the power
of positive thinking does absolutely nothing

hence tis ideal to relish each day,
     where without fail
health of body, mind
     and spirit doth prevail
more coveted, favored,

     and immunized one to sail
their corporeal ship of state
     rather rejoice, and in due time
     embrace death, rather than decry
     and blubber accursed fate to whale.
Kagey Sage Feb 2016
Oh there’s nothing you can do to turn this day around
The universe is set in black matter
and it’s oozing here consistently
Milady, Mara’s on another rampage
Try to sit down and enjoy
Maybe this rooftop will hold up long enough
to give us a sublime view
sheeba balan kpp Jan 2015
My bed strewn with books
I shrink to a side
My thigh on the computer
pressing innumerable keys all at once
I search for the phone
with a dreamy hand
reminiscences of a dream
Still in my eyes
Searching for messages

Life too is like a scattered dream
Can't make sense
but everything seems to be there
don't know how to connect
a jigsaw puzzle

The bed is crazy
A khushwant here
copies of writing there
Some ink
An unpacked box

The wind lifts the dark screen
And i open my eyes a little more
Dreams oozing
light filtering
my throat dry
Wishing for some sweet tea
I search for more messages
And still more tangled dreams
Savannah N Nov 2014
warm, orange, safe
oozing slowly inward
over reality
past time
recessing stress
overwhelming comfort
pow wow

— The End —