Can't sleep. Wakeful for days. The pain starts.
Thought I could beat it. Thought again, wrong as ever.
The consequences take form shortly after my mistakes.
Already too far behind me. Already flown through.
My frantic fingers tremble, trying to close.
Reliable depression.

Shuffle. Shuffle my feet. Long dark streets.
Pit stops in bars for drinks in smoke. Cigarettes. Cigars.
Like I'd ever find love tucked in such slow dives.
If stimulants may save me, I'll smoke some more weed.
Against the outside building, heart open.
I hear your quiet words.

Over the traffic. Over the clubs. Their lines.
For once I follow the feeling. Not shy away.
The music singing from hidden lips.
I must see them.

Sanny 3d
4am

How alive I feel.
There's only me.

Me,
watching the stars as the moonlight guides my way.
Everything is quiet, all I hear is my own footsteps.

I feel free,
no one knows where I am or where I'm going.
In the daylight I'm lost, but at night I'm home.

I'm absorbed by the dark,
but I know where to go,
I know who I am.

This is where I belong.
How alive I feel when I'm alone in the world.

There she stands
cup of coffee on the table
looking around at the flowers and foliage
enjoying this early summer morning in the shade
a wisp of a sad smile
and lines on her face speak a long life.

I wonder where she has been
what waters what deserts or valleys
she has traversed
whose lives she has touched
how many lips she has kissed
whose passing she has grieved.

Now she's gone
but I thank God
for this interlude
with her
as I sit here with my coffee
looking through the window
in the coolness of the condo
writing and listening to guitar
feeling the peace of this morning
and gratitude
for this momentary encounter.

"Momentary Encounter," Copyright 2017 by Glenn Currier

Wyatt R 5d

It's a journey
covered in thorns,
nails piercing
through my feet.
Eyes dulled,
expressionless.
Color surrounds me.
The pain intensifies.
All of my life has been
one big lie
and it's consequences.
Liars don't get help,
they get out of it.
My limbs are bound
and my skin doesn't feel.
It's a quiet road
with none passing,
A silent voice
through my mind.

A 5d

There is silence held by a vacant mind
A silence once craved, now deafening.
In anguish there is noise, resounding beats drumming against you
But all is lost when the drums beat no more.

The dam of emotion once spilt; overflowed.
Now it lies rank, bare - it holds nothing anymore.
In its wake it builds confusion, even a longing for sorrow.
For when it came even the deepest wound found a voice; a flare emerging from the ocean of your soul.

The mind has lost its voice, it can't speak. Dumbstruck!
You're exiled in silence. Not fervor, nor antagonism hold you prisoner.
You are free, in a sense, to roam the abyss of your mind.
Your curse is to forever seek light only to be touched by darkness.
No word, thought, song or feeling to embrace you.

The world reticent, always behind a wall too high to traverse.
Still you walk towards it. Hoping silence will leave your unlit shores.
Illuminated, each soul walks by your side, the same path as yours.
Each glimmering in the vibrance of emotion; the colours of the rainbow.

The door at the wall, the gatekeeper controls.
Each soul passing through with a secret code.

There you stand, denied.
Words making no sound,
"Password please", the keeper asks
And you'd pass, just like the others, if only you could hear.

-A

I can't hear the sound my mind is supposed to be making
Aniseed 7d

When I am old
And crows feet tickle the corners of my eyes
And silver parts the waters of my hair

When my knees crack like thunder
And my ankles somehow know it's going to rain

When my mind starts to slip
Like a camera out of focus
Or maybe like the water damaged photographs
In the attic

When I am ancient and beautiful
In the sunset years of my existence,
I hope to have achieved a life
Where I didn't fear walking through a war
For some semblance of peace.

Alan Crilley Jun 17

The tolling of the midnight bell,
the fireflies; they cast a spell.
The birds calling, quietly
calling, calling.
The water full of small lights,
the soaring of the midnight kites.
The lighthouse warning, quietly
warning, warning.
Quietly.

I find myself becoming like you
but I don't like you
Cataggart Jun 14

Pitch black
Sinking, alone
In my own quicksand
But she didn't know

Her eyes
Shining and pure
The path through the fog
A happy allure

My pain
Quietly goes
I didn't notice
And she didn't know

Green eyes
Lamps to her smile
Her soul shines through them
And dances for miles

Alasia Jun 12

Could you stay a while longer?

Your chest against my chest, your ear to my heart, in silence and syrupy breath? Hold on to my wrists, rest your lips on my neck: "the world is quiet here". It is ours here. There is nothing but your eyes, nothing but your skin, nothing but intimacy. The right kind of intimacy. The kind of closeness that makes me want, need, to pull you closer until you can not be any closer and it is still not close enough.

Don't leave me.

Please,

don't hurt me.

Sing me to sleep. I just want to sleep underneath the weight of the feelings that make my heart feel like it is sinking, losing itself to you. I want to be lost to you, and these feelings, and these blue patterned sheets but reality pricks my fingers until I'm clawing at your back like you're going to escape me.

I don't want to talk about how scared I am.

You will leave me.

Stare at me so I can memorize your eyes for when the day comes. Right now I just want to be with you.

Could you stay a while longer?

Rick Warr Jun 12

time to stop
hunker down
withdraw
think
reflect
celebrate silence
hibernate
conserve
hug
roast
contemplate
regenerate
sleepĀ­
dream
breathe fresh air
enjoy winter
the quiet season

I forget the best of certain seasons till i'm in them. This is a tribute to the best of Winter.
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