Who are you?
But who are you
when the titles are stripped away,
when extrinsic definitions lose their meaning,
when you cease to see the value of the dollar
of power and status?
Underneath these shallow words
is the person who remains
representative of who you want to be?
Do you remain true to your morals
even when they contradict societal expectations?
When you are asked a simple question:
who are you?
Can you respond
I am
or the rarest of all:
The horizon line is infinite before you
And, also
You are embracing it
There is the red, rocky, dusty ground
And the nuclear glow of the western sky
Its burning now blurring the edge that separates it from the earth
And all is one great sea of red

The motorcycle is stoic beneath you
Rumbling a faithful rhythm
As the desert darkens
The cigarette ashes and embers trail out behind you
Until you are a lone, shooting star
Streaking across the barren expanse
Alison Latres Mar 11
It feels so redundant to call out to nowhere
Knowing I'll only hear my own voice in response
The dull, fading echo is all I'll ever know

Reaching out to everything
Trying to share something new
But there's nobody to see

I feel void of all connections
Distanced from all perspectives but my own
I would like to hear another voice

The echo comes back to me and dances
It burns into my skull, it hurts
I'd love to not be alone one day

But desperation just drives others away.
Kathleen M Mar 10
There is a light, it's flickering a pale white blue.
The carpet is rough on my face, silence permeates the house. I should get up.
I should pull myself into personhood. My hands tremor, I let my finger tips find the end of the carpet. Skimming the floor boards shaking fingers beginning to tap tap tap out the only sound.
I used to drink the restlessness away, now I am left a craving in its place. Tap tap tap say the fingers.

Violent imagery flashes across my mind, car crashes,  rending metal, glass breaking, bones snapping there are sharp falls and hit and runs and stabbing on the sidewalk,  knife sliding into my flesh. Leaping into oncoming traffic, my heart skipping beats and laughter always my laughter. The final moment of freedom replayed over an over.  I can't tell you why it makes me smile, I don't know why myself.
Tap tap tap tap tap irrattic finger tips might be getting angry. Have your limbs been angry at you before?

Rolling over the popcorn ceiling swirls,
I realized a while back if I pay attention to the patterns they shift, I hallucinate mildly on most days. I think I might miss it if I were being honest. I focus on my skin, the way the air touches it, the way cold feels, if I savour this enough I almost feel high, high is almost always on the other side of sensation.
I might always be a touch high compared to how the average Joe feels. This is not a desirable state, but if you talk to me tomorrow I might say it's a gift.

I slowly stand, my knees cracking fingertips tap tap tapping up the wall. Giving up drinking was like giving up one of my last connections to my dearly  departed. Gin and alcoholism kept a part of him close to me. Medication and therapy take me further and further away from the person who knew him.

I walk barefoot, the texture of the floor boards underfoot, stepping into the kitchen I pull a wine glass from the cupboard. I want to hear it sing, I flick the glass, I hold the opening of the glass near my ear. I can feel the sound touching my ear. Soft ringing until it's quiet again, I've tried to savour the experience by listening in to the sounds of my world.
Listening to the slow crunch of a crisp apple, the sound of the city, the bubbling of the fish tank. Perfect beautiful sounds ripe with happening.
You can hear the happening of what is at all times if you choose to.

There are other ways to savour, I think it helps to be here and now, the savouring it I mean. By "it" I mean everything your senses allow you to perceive, the everything that is your sensory image of the world around you. Your brain built the image of the world, it's a reflection of you. The world is a mirror to your mind.
Often the reflection is not something I'm proud of, other times I'm exploding with pride.

I wish I could share what I've found with him, but I wasn't fast enough, I wasn't paying attention.

Attention to here and now has been the key I keep dropping and picking up.
We all fall apart, each time we put ourselves back together in a different way.
Never the person we once were, all because we got burnt.
Yet the world still turns in just the same way, even though it doesn't feel that way.
You continue to fight with all your might, you are brave, extraordinary.
So It doesn't matter if you fall apart, you still have the same heart.
Doesn't matter that you've put yourself back together differently, as your heart is still the same just filled with a little more pain.
python Feb 26
The only person that listens to me is my external dialogue
You call it schizophrenia, I call it a duologue
But in reality it's just, it's just that in a group of two
I am my own leader, subject, enemy and compeer
Born out of a fear of being alone, my mind began to sere
And unintentionally planted a voice into each cerebral hemisphere

Have you ever shouted at yourself, because you want to kill yourself?
Have you ever told yourself that you hate yourself?
That your existence is meaningless?
It's difficult to repress the thoughts internally, I do confess...
Jeff Gaines Feb 25
I know a girl, everyone does.
All she wants is fun.
She won't be having cereal today,
she'll have everything under the sun.

She don't read the paper.
She don't watch no news.
Why would she care about someone's troubles
if they will never buy her shoes?

She don't need no man.
She don't need no gun.
So many rides to take her there,
she don't walk, much less run.

She's got no time to cry.
She's won't listen to the Blues.
Nothing in the world matters to her,
unless it's something she can use.

She has lots of friends.
She'll dance with them all night.
But she cares not that they ain't real,
cuz she's forever high as a kite.

She don't care about no art,
unless it's something she can wear.
The thing she loves to look at most
is in the mirror there.

She's just loves making trouble.
She's always causing a stir.
But she don't bother about anything in the world,
cuz it revolves around her.

It's almost sad to watch her live her life,
always seeking to ring her own bell.
A living, breathing, girl on a mission
to fill a vacant, soulless shell.

She stares down into her pond, from her big ivory tower.
She'll never be happy and even less so,
as a helpless little flower.
If you don't know who this is really about, the first line is a clue ... they can be seen on their own reality shows (past and present), gossip shows, tabloid shows (and IN the tabloids) and any and all social media. Naming names would only beg a flame war. If you don't understand the last line, then Google "Narcissus" ... it will explain.
Dovey Feb 25
They say ignorance is bliss
So I'm recapturing my innocence
I won't think anymore
I don't think anymore

Sure, they say beauty is pain
but hell, I don't need that kinda strain
again and again cause I swear I want better
The old person I was? Fuck her, whatever
Turning over a new leaf.
Lauren Grace Feb 20
We sit across the room from each other in hideous furniture.
But still, you scream,
"What is it all about? Why are we here?"
I respond, warm affection dripping in every word,
"Human connection."
"There must be more than that," you insist.
Your words leave me with nothing except an unworthy reparation on my lips.
I glance around the freezing house and realize I have obviously failed to provide enough for the both of us.
IrieSide Feb 18
Gravitational forces
towards something better
as if it exists
buried beneath
some mysterious desert

what is it
that strains to convey
in this broken poetry
as if truth were at
the tip of its tongue

It's not sex, fame, money (or anything material)
perhaps it's to feel real
for only a moment
to escape the routine
of making a living
which only yields
a skeleton
compacted in dirt

Take my writing
let it fly upon the wind
let it touch the four corners
of Earth's spiritless surface
Take it farther!
to red and gaseous planets
let even the martian men
attempt to

upon the wings of doves
and sound waves of conversation
you have touched reality
in this moment
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