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in times of
and utter ruin

the image that
runs laps
around my head

is that of:

eric andre
into nothingness

and hannibal buress
for help
this show
is not comedy

it is the psyche
in a sitcom
the titanium sun
never ceases to rise

in the realm were
everything is
but your eyes

and when you
seem to fail and falter

in a static realm
reality can alter
and in here
you're never
the wiser
If one can’t
Make a child to smile

My apology

That life needs
Some editing
Genre: Abstract
Theme: Vibration never deceive
girl gonzo Nov 6
girlworm, you grab a wrist like you've known modesty in the shyness of a bare feeling gripped tight on the one offering it
tightrope fingers falling into the spaces of unspoken territory, slipping into familiar qualms like the worn lipsticks that fits the grooves of my lips like an object of my affection
knowing the contour of what i'm never aware of
anxieties creep like an overgrown lawn
these fears personifying into antsy women invading my kitchen telling me that there's not enough ventilation and the stove is on leaking gas into the baby lungs of a young smoker
and when i begin to argue they give both a look of sympathy and disgust as they say "oh child you drown so easily"
so i sit chewing my nails as i count the birds outside flying back and forth from their post as if they can't remember what they're going towards or if there's something that could possibly pull them elsewhere
my mind swirls in the smoothie of a plastic cup that sticks to the coffee table, the rings of different bottles painting circles for me to memorize again
my paradise sits with the roughness of his knuckles and the ambiguity of eyes that could know everything and i would set fire to the stars inside because of the jealousy that grows from pretty things being smoldered under skin
when i begin to lose my person, pale and shivering i go towards it
empty stomached and ready to be buried in the clothes of her
that i can imagine becoming the consistency of yogurt in my lap
kissing back my tremors as i lift up her hair from curious shoulders
dry-heaving the importance of the cheeks that feel warmer as they settle on hands that are brought together as if in deep prayer and i know i will collect myself again one day
girlworm, your are a swarm in my chest and i am me
Daisy Rae Oct 29
We had commitment
Lacked intimacy and passion
We lost that feeling, that connection
But I guess what happens, happens
I thought we’d be in it for the long run
Thought you were my only one
But sometimes strong love deteriorates
Turning into empty love
We didn’t cheat, only argued
The commitment was there
But we lost that attachment
That closeness
I should have noticed
The detachment
You were absent
I didn’t know it would happen like this
If only I could rewind
But sadly I just sit here and reminisce
Why did I have to be so **** blind
Our love turned into empty love
Our love dwindled and died.
It’s nearly as old as I am,
Born with my personality.
A reservoir behind a dam,
Watering and powering me.

Feelings belied my appearance,
But I always felt just like me.
Still it confounded my parents.
Who didn’t know what to do with me.

They offered love and affection,
While deep down afraid of my brain.
And that implicit rejection,
Birthed ego drive to hide my pain.

Shunned compliments as a defense,
I strove for more personal pride.
But I feared my intelligence
Prevented being satisfied.

That deep seated scared little kid
Just wanted to be loved for me.
That need to be loved feeds my id
And needs for false intimacy.

“We don’t know what to do with Dan.”
That little boy still hears those words.
He’s frightened inside this grown man,
Whose ego seeks love undeterred.
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Evan Leonhard Oct 13
my circadian rhythm beats
at such high frequency
my mind is shattered
shards of broken thought
litter my consciousness
my insights lay scattered
Paul Butters Oct 1
Back in my teenage college years
I was told about “Autistic kids”
Who lived in worlds of their own,
Seeing things through weird and wonderful specs
In social isolation,
Frightening in its completeness.

At sixty six I since have learned about many
Of their “traits”:
Their obsessions, inflexible routines and
At all change.
Their inability to read
Emotions or social cues
Or innuendos
Or irony.

I have worked with those with Aspergers,
Colleagues, friends and clients –
Indeed with people all over
The Autistic Spectrum.

And the main thing I have learned
In all these years
Is that in my own way…
I am one of them.

Paul Butters

© PB 1\10\2018.
There, I'm Out.
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