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Sharon Talbot Jul 2018
I’m fading away, backing off from life.
Echoes of joy and faults pass like falling stars.
Every day has a few drops less of strife.
Silent shrapnel crashes in soft and witless shards.
And I’m shrinking from the Now;
I couldn’t even tell you how.

Moments of ecstasy and pain are sealed,
Like shrines to a life I still know.
Etched in summer’s softness or in steel.
I am vanishing, but I don’t know where I’ll go.
My once-beloved and my son are here.
One ignores me, while the other
Watches in helpless fear.

Five A.M and I am by myself…again.
Sun washes in with sorrow in its face.
For the thousands of times, I have slept alone,
I feel like a stranger in this place,
I once called our home.
Now it’s a cage to me,
Filled with broken promises and mis-matched lace.

I am going now, heading toward the West.
Leaving memories and pain behind with a sleeping wife..
Every day brings me closer to an end
Leaves fly in the road behind me, remnants of a life.
I am crying for the misspent years.
But no more of those; I am changing, switching gears.

September 17, 2010
Edited – January 5, 2016
This goes with a novel of the same name about a psychology professor who is so unhappy with his life, he begins to "shrink" away from it, back to the life he once knew. That's all I can tell you for now!
Tijana Jul 2018
I dont want food to be my adiction anymore
I don't want to numb my emotions by yet another drug
I dont want to sweep everything underneath a rug.

Yes Ive did it wrong, but what could I do?
Food was the only thing that gave me comfort, its not like I've could've shoot up ******* in my veins at the age of 10.

But I had food, a sick adiction, a temporary fix, for problems that are much deep.

It's a miracle that I could've even function under such amounts of stress, But I did it brave without showing any signs of distress. And why, why wouldnt I feel disstress and pain? anyone that walked in my shoes would feel the same.

So this is my solution, a sour and sweet absolution, from now on there'll be no supstatution for how I feel.
Tijana Jul 2018
How it all started I cant quite remember
The only thing that's left, a fragment of memory, a piece, an ember.
I pleaded, I begged the God to think of a little child that is being destroyed, I begged him to react before in me the only thing that would be left was a big void.

But God remained cold, there is no way to cure the wounds of old.So I ve rotten for a couple of years, tried to heal my wounds with yeast and tears.

And nothing came abought, only a deep saddened drought. My soul was slowly crushed by a false mission, with a ban to sign my petition.

I've sat on the cold trone to know how it feels, nothing in that imaginary belief is real.
Witches serve the rulers that claim they're bold, pretending to be divine but inside contain only mold.

And this Earth spins, there is no other way, but for us, petty fools to be dismayed. Puppeteers pull their strings, so we can forcefully bow down and kiss their rings.

What kind of idiots do you think we are?,
Do you really think all schemes go that far?
Sad alone, abandoned, without any hope, We go out and accept these monsters only to be hanged by a rope.

Call them Psychopaths, Borderlines, Narcs,
They give a bad name even to sharks.
But every thing that rises needs to fall.
But before they do, they'll try to silence us all.
Tina RSH Jun 2018
If insanity is a crime, I am on for a death penalty.

If dreams belong to a third world, I am definitely not earthly.

If man is to partake but in all societies, I doubt my species.

If hearts are closed to love and close to feud, I am so hollow in the chest.

And if it is truth everyone claims to own, I am most certainly a liar.
Red Brush Jun 2018
Can I be truly happy?
Strange it feels, that ask.
Stranger still, I can't seem to see -
A face beneath my mask.
Paul Butters Jun 2018
I say again –
Fear has a vital function.
Without it our ancestors would have been eaten
By lions or sabre-toothed tigers.
We need it so survive
A terror attack
Or any physical threat.

Yet in modern days even mild anxiety
Has little use:
Filling us with Cortisol and Stress.
We are like rabbits in headlights,
Paralysed with worry
Over those exams and other tasks.

We must not Fear or fret.
As Frank Herbert said in “Dune”
We have to face our fears
And let them pass over and through.
For only we will remain.
We must stay Mindful
Of the here and now
And let the future take care of itself.

So I will not do Fear
Of any kind
Unless that **** or terrorist appears
And even then
I will try my best
To keep my cool.

Be clinical
Rather than angry
For Anger is the cousin of Fear
And only any use
When you rationally decide
To attack.

In short
Do not Do Fear
Or Anger
Unless you really have to.

Paul Butters

© PB 18\6\2018.
Never Fear.
ida Jun 2018
Guilt flows inside my veins,
beating blood to the chase
The same blood that my aching heart,
attempts to pump into purity

I don’t know its exact color
but it seems to chameleon its way into every situation
coloring every emotion a shade darker

I scrunch my eyebrows in pain
Letting each line of my shapely frown
Convince the world that I have been punished enough

But this guilt is hungry for more
It craves justification
and in its absence.
it invites obsession for dinner

They sit together and  feast on my insecurity
Which declares that I’m a bad person
The knife of self-awareness stands in defense
but ends up cutting itself out of the plate

Drooling over my meaty anxiety
sit guilt and obsession in union
seasoning it with my lonely tears
Making it a perfect dish of well-done misery

I want to send them home starving
But habit has been taught how to be hospitable
but it’s my growth that ends up cleaning their ***** dishes

Their stay costs a small amount
And so they decide to extend
But I stand holding my thoughts on a silver tray
Hoping they forget to tip, and go away

When will I be able to see things for the way they are?
I don’t want to drive through a fog of irrational beliefs
But that **** guilt blocks all other roads
which seem to lead to change

Truth is a flawed concept they say,
as everyone has their own version
But I need some honesty from you,
You, my present
because you fail to talk to me, cry with me, dance with me
You, my present, stand me up, every time
and I end up in the arms of my past

It holds me tighter than you have ever even tried
and it buys me drinks, drinks of regret
I try and sip them slowly,
But waiting on you, I get drunk

I’ve left you so many messages, and maybe your address has changed

but you, my present
Answer me please, don’t you want some happy?
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