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Loose Knit
by Michael R. Burch

She blesses the needle,
fetches fine red stitches,
criss-crossing, embroidering dreams
in the delicate fabric.

And if her hand jerks and twitches in puppet-like fits,
she tells herself
reality is not as threadbare as it seems ...

that a little more darning may gather loose seams.

She weaves an unraveling tapestry
of fatigue and remorse and pain; ...
only the nervously pecking needle
****** her to motion, again and again.

Published by The Chariton Review, Penumbra, Black Bear Review, and Triplopia. Keywords/Tags: Addiction, needle, veins, stitches, red, blood, ******, dreams, hallucinations, seams, darning, tapestry
Justin Pfirsch Feb 2019
Because “Harm” (cool nickname) and “Mac” (again!)
Being both in the Navy and also at the same time
Are doubly entitled to be officious, full of **** and themselves
Yet really are
in spite of this entitlement
two of the most lovable Lawyers no, Characters no, people no, beings no, spirits
in the history of
shows at 9pm no, prime time television no, television no, theater no, performance arts no, arts no, art no, human experience
I think I went maybe 1 too far
That short fat chubby guy whose name I can't at this point remember (he's sadly funny)
The Admiral
who always seems to be
at a minimum
mildly *******
at all times
reminding us
that while “Harm” and “Mac”
are off at home
near the end of the show
enjoying their lives
The Admiral will be, (usually) unshown, in the wee hours
in his office, pushing the paper
that makes the World go Round
When the value of what
You might add in a conversation
Is the same of that of a dying sorrow
Share it with the lamenters and the widows
For the ones with our heads onward and ahead
Have little time for a useless need in our heads

Useless ****** are abundance in this world
But dears, the only things
that look good doing nothing are statues
And your looks would pass ignored by the greeks, french, romans, and even the barbarians

Please, do mind me, this is the simplest insult
For the ones that prefer to glue their *****
Watching life passing​ by and the world spinning through
If there's so little you can do
Why don't you do us a favor and fly off
Today I tried to remain as Zen as possible, but you know when you get home and all your barriers melt down and that ball of infuriating fire is still lighting but because of the exhaustion it looked as if it were running out the gas and what remained was the ashes that crept into my mind threatening to evolve into a migraine, well you do? I felt exactly that.

As the fierce soldier I am, I haggled off this reality with that of my subconscious and adventure myself in the depths of dreams. What a journey, I dreamt with verboten love and with abuse, cliffs and heights. What I can highlight and what bedazzled me the most was a peculiar scene: I was in front of a pizzeria and the family in charge was in the middle of a severe argument. The father was holding forcibly the wrists of the mother, this one cried and implored him to stop, while their kids cried and shrieked. In the outlook of my dream I had the pleasure of having subtitles! How crazy is that! the family was talking an indigenous language and I could read what they were talking. Thing was my mother got in the middle of the argument and asked for the kids to take them, as in being their savior. I red that the little baby was in the "highest mountain", the father kept repeating that they were obliged to go there. I decipher it as the highest room in the tall building. Upon arriving no kid was there and despair started consuming me and just THEN my mother woke me up.
Cathryona Aug 2016
I see the needle in my eye
I see the silver tip
That holds every microbe known to man
I see it
In my eye,

In front of my eye-

The tip glistening under the
Beam of light that has refracted
From the broken windows,
it's getting closer now.
The silver pin ******
Will soon be dyed in red
And all my secrets and
And evil
And good
Will spill into my hand,

Everything that I know
Will be washed away
And all my thoughts
Will kiss the ***** floor
And make a blanket of
Colourless emotions
And all my soul will pour out
When the needle strikes
**My eye
hi it's been a long time
Peanut Sep 2015
In A
Needle Stack,


MysteryBear Dec 2014
Hypocrites, Laziness, Plastic
You call yourselves real poets
Too lazy to read long poems
Sorry if I need to get my point across
My emotions cannot be put in 5 lines
That's why we do poems
We are suppose to feel things on a deeper level
But we are all plastic
Fiction like the characters in our poems
****, *****, Lick
I had to put rhyming in it so you would read it
People don't notice great poems cuz its too long. Laziness is not an excuse
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