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ms hitt Mar 16
drip drip drip
thoughts
tri-ckl-in-g
into my head

splish, splash, splish
the ideas
get re-i-fi-ed
into my head

my head, my head
fill’d with
your words, you
heavy showers at noon

on a sunday morning
the jentacular
downpours, thinking
with a side of musing
i have a ton of backlogged poems, so I'm posting them all at once
Derrick Jones Mar 16
I got so many feelings they leave me reeling, stealing second after second because I’m the first to leave and the last to go, too guarded to believe and too frozen to flow.

Words cut into thirds and still too long to belong but too short to be strong,

I’m not tough I’m all bluff and all guff  I know stuff but not enough
Hands cuffed and shoes scuffed I’m too rough easily rebuffed and left puffed

I hope one day I find a way to be alone and okay but for now my skies are gray even on sunny days and like the waves I know I’ll eternally return but for now I burn, endless fire and pain a pyre without rain burning forever, chains I cannot sever no matter how clever I spit my wit aint **** in the big mitt.

Held in the hands of the One but no lifeline comes so I feel like I’m being burned in the sun, taxed like earned income, vexed like an anti-vaxxer with a sneezing son, fried by having too much fun and lied to by myself as I lie down in the sun, shoulda used suncreen but my burned skin screams and my broken dreams teem around the edges of a vessel losing steam, engines down and shields almost depleted, if this is Star Trek than I’m a red shirt being yeeted, if it’s a contest I’m this close to defeated, a few feet more and I’m off the shore, swept away in the ocean and no potion can stop this downward motion more than gravity seized by the sea I see no light to swim toward so I get floored, and at the bottom I grab a shovel and start to dig, maybe if I lean in to my demise I’ll be able to fantasize that this was a choice, that I have a voice, that I’m more than another skeleton swallowed by time in the end, I got the bends I sank too fast and even if I try to rise again the nitrogen will do me in, so why the hell should I even try when I could just lie here lying to myself, another bottle off the shelf another twisted elf helping me help myself abandon wealth and fall into deprivation, depraved agitation with no sanitation, ***** not clean nice and mean like mice and men I’ve gone awfully awry and I’m not shy enough to hide my shame so in these words I confide, some part of me awake for the ride while the rest sleeps in the tide, hoping the waves take me home, soma holiday the only way I’ll feel okay, my soma and germ both squirm with the ancestral trauma I spurned until it churned into a calamity inside of me that consumes me in gloom and doom until there is no room to do anything else but retreat back to the waiting room womb.

I typed that in one breath but still death would not save me from myself, this is not a cry for help this is more like a review on yelp, my life review is five out of five in the shine and naught out of who cares when the rain lays me bare, and cold and alone my flashlight shone on white bone and rotting flesh, death so everpresent it’s like christmas every day oh yay I hope my sarcasm forces a giggle from a lip so that this eclipse lifts for the briefest second, a glimpse at the life I could have had but somehow missed, the mist covers my eyes, first second and third, and the bird’s eye view tells me I’m *******, but when I look from the floor, well that view ***** more, so I guess ******* less would mean success, but the report card is hard to care about when I carted out my art so long ago, I started out with eyes on the throne now I’d **** to throw myself a bone and feel like there was a hope I could atone or find a road to home.

Tones bring me joy, music from the noise, something I wish I could make but I feel deaf and dumb when I try so I numb myself with wine until I’m fine to eat off the vine that others planted, feeling like a waste of space I wish I could face my fears, face to the mirror without my eyes wide shut, but the feeling in my gut is like a rifle **** slammed by a soldier, the pain surges and smolders, aching shoulders make it hard to stand straight, grated down like cheddar I used to be better than this now I’m a sweater poorly knit, a useless *** and a hub of useless code that would erode the minds of better men if they let my poison seep in, so I keep myself at a distance, I witness, hide my mental fitness and put on airs to win the princess.

I’m sorry I stole your heart you should have never let it part from your chest because now I confess I come off like the best but I am cursed to sometimes be the worst, an endless thirst I cannot slake, relentless life I cannot take, smiles I no longer fake because the weight finally ground me down to nothing in the end, nothingness my final gift to lend I guess I’ll just make space until I finally find erasure, the sweet bliss of death’s kiss will launch me to the next great adventure, returned to sender, smart like Ender my heart was rendered fully now it’s rended dully, blunt knives hack apart ventricles that used to start a beat that moved my feet, but now like lead I feel less alive than dead, and hope for resurrection is my only real direction.

Someone give me sign. Help me climb. Remove my blinds. Remind me of the path to the divine.
thepuppeteer Mar 8
A heavy weight on your shoulders will only grow heavier.

People around you support you to lift that heavy weight.

When nobody sees that heavy weight you eventually fall down.
The weight will be too heavy to bear.

You have no clue as to what to do.

But in the end you should know.

Your path does not end here.

It is not the end of the world.

Don't be afraid to hug yourself too.
too caught up with
school
to be writing poetry.

its all
circulation notes, immunology test
trigonometry with the tangents and roots
the middle ages, why Christians were jerks
3D printing rocket ships and bridges from sticks
the fifty-paged reading assignments
and, pourquoi est-ce que je n'ai pas tiempo?

but wait, its all wrong
falling behind, failing with 85s
of course it wasn't B *******,
and it was Franks all along
structures don't meet the load capacity over mass ratio,
and the hypothenuse - opposite - adjacent ratios tangle,
like how spanish is now undifferentiated from french
and theres still fifty pages of reading

and still assignments due 11:59
get it right on time
before and after Christ
the rise and fall of Rome
the fall of your sanity, rather
and heck, just ******* lie!
say that enzymes denature and B cells die
and the reason you cry is for your innate defenses
and pathogens and
not because its too much
its too much
its too much

who has time for poetry?
****, who cares about poetry?
me? hah, don't care about nothin',
just that I'm still fifty ******* pages behind.
school has been stressful as ****. I feel like theres constantly projects and tests and I've been going to sleep near midnight every night and I haven't had free time in forever.
I just feel tired, honestly.
Lostling Feb 20
The claps
Explode inside my ears, thundering blanks of noise
The cheers and chatter
Whispers
Mutters
Rush into my ears like seawater, and I can't help but drown...
Static.
Static everywhere, wires zinging and zapping,
Skewer my brain and blend it into froth
Pouring out of my eyes as I squeeze them shut.
And as the frost rushes through my spine, into my lungs,
Curling its claws around my throat,
My screams for silence are just that.
Where you hear commands
I hear abuse
Where you hear applause
Only gunshots ring out for me

(Never touching uniform groups again)
Nostalgia Jan 25
I’m so tired.
But I need to be better.
If I am not,
What is the point of doing?
I can't
I can't
I can't
I can't do this
Its too much
Its too
much.
It's
too
much.

I can't think -
I'm forced to think, to think think think about it
All at once
Not at all
I can't -
I don't know
Do you?
Do you know what this is
supposed to be?
Is?
What is -
the meaning
of
everything
nothing
me?

I'm just so
everything
all at once
My mind is broken up into its smallest fragments
scrambling to get it all done,
all in this frantic insane mess, and yet
its so unclear to you
how unable I am.

I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm sorry I'msorryI'msorry -
I'msorryIcouldn'tbeeverythingyouwantedmetobe,
I'msorrythatIdidn'­ttryhardenough
I'msorrythatIforgothowtodream
I'msorrythatI'mjusta­kid
I'msorry
I'm sorry.
I'm
Sorry.

I just can't.
dierdre Jan 12
Overwhelming emotions buried deep within
With just one tap, it gets shaken, resurfacing once more
Confidence I've built, yet to grow
Crumbles down
Like sandcastles drowned by the tide's flow.
noise
the piercing screams of little children
"no no no!"
i dont want a shot
screaming crying help
but nothing shows
trying to stop the noise from
consuming you as it creeps in
with tendrils made of
every
          little
                  noise
that you have ever or will ever make
but now
you're silent
as you war in your head
clutching your knees wishing you
couldn't hear plugging your ears its too much
its too much its too much its too much
its so hard to breath or move or do anything at all
because everything makes a sound and theres already
                                             plenty
                                              much
       ­                                         of
                                               that
noise
Lumin Guerrero Dec 2024
i am screaming
screaming out to you

why can't you hear me?
just listen.

you say you can't hear me
because i am screaming in silence

and i cant expect people to hear me
if i'm not saying anything at all.

how is it that, inside me
its so **** loud,

and yet i can't manage to get it outside.
i can't get people to hear.

i guess its sad if people are so limited by their senses
while i am able to experience all the infinite forms of communication.

or, maybe its sad for me.
because even if i can communicate in all these infinite ways,

it makes it hard to find the one in which
they can hear me

screaming
in silence.
verbal communication is difficult for reasons i can't explain, and so i speak through art and metaphors.
unfortunately, this isn't most's performed method of communication.
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