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Lewis Irwin Oct 2018
I think I understand it now, life that is,
How easy it is to lose the sense of control in all this.
We're trapped like animals and on a conveyor belt,
Awaiting judgement from a consuming generation, but hell,
I'm guiltily part of that as well.

I think I get how people get lost in the numbness of judgement and consumption,
We're all consumers consuming humour and a humans convulsions.
That repetitive nature of the newest generations has change the world,
No longer do we fight the same fight and stand beside the typical Gerald.
We look to be hurt by others and take a leap of ill-faith into broken people,
Expecting them to catch us when they can't even find love to love themselves; never mind other people.

We hurt ourselves to pause the conveyor belt,
We harm ourselves to draw blood and feel pain and escape our modern hell.
We snap like thin hard wax and damage our perfect bodies,
When we're so powerful; we could revolt and fill the lobbies.

We can make a change, stop the automatic production,
But in a modern world, we're the creators of our own destruction.
This ramble comes from the coping mechanism of hurting yourself to feel in control of your life.
Just something I wished to shed light on and get off my chest.
CautiousRain Oct 2018
We can never love again
without combustion,
a self-destruction,
if our lips were to meet
again;
we were never meant to be.
Ye'up.
CautiousRain Oct 2018
Dear Diary:
A daunting opening,
and a lost, red leather journal later,
leaves the pen ink sweating
down the page
reminding me how temporary
all my thoughts are
and how every smudge of my fingers
is really just a desperate attempt
to forget what we've become.
This isn't how it had to end, and yet it did
Jack L Martin Aug 2018
Spinning infinities ******* lucky fingernails scrolling above my beyond strategy of neglecting starfish in memory models by seeing forever the kind finding ways of loathing to the series of establishments never to bend on fire for strategy including harbor cleverness in a wording not common of rogue mill goats because my numbers fell in line with going heavy on the sauce.
MacKenzie Warren Jul 2018
i am writing and writing but nothing good is coming from these ink stained pages. the smell of lemon grass surrounds these brick walls and a feeling all too familiar fills my soul. flashes of bubbly laughter and eyes so alive. the sun shines through the window casting light onto the walls surrounding me, but despite all of the light all i see is darkness. despite only writing about the good, about the soft and warm things, about love and lust. despite thinking only of your hands tangled in my hair and your lips deeply pressed against my neck, the things that should set my skin on fire but instead leave me ice cold. unable to feel the warmth, trapped in the winters of yesterday, my favorite sweater no longer bringing comfort.
maybe i am lost
maybe i am alone
Mary K Jul 2018
Don’t rise yet, sun
I was just getting to know the moon;
I still haven’t met all the stars.  
There is darkness all around me but the light that I can see is too important not to pay attention to
It’s the little light within the blackest night that holds the most importance
That’s so easily drowned out by your overpowering brilliance.
Some people need the light of the sun to show them their way.
I envy those people, who can look forward to their waking hours and see where the good lies.
I just have to hope that when the nighttime rolls around that the darkness doesn’t consume me
Before the light of the stars are able to show me where I’m going.

Tomorrow feels like yesterday
I don’t know what day it is anyway.
The mountains rise from the sea and are brought back down again
Stars explode as they crash into one another in a brilliant, dying display
But not in time like the time that I’ve seen, that I will ever know.
Ten years is ten days is ten hours is ten minutes is ten seconds,
Why can I feel it slipping all around me like it does?

The moon told me her story, but I am not at liberty to discuss
I wish that meant something to anyone but myself, and I’m sorry.
There are some things that all must learn individually,
Or not learn it at all.
I know you will rise soon, sun, and I know the moon must go
I say goodbye to the stars one by one. Even as they fade. Even as I slip away.  
It was all just a fever dream, a shout into the void
I’ll wake up and nothing will be different and everything will be the same and that’s saying the same thing but yet it’s saying something different entirely.
Nobody knows what I mean anymore, not even myself,
But the moon says she understands
And the stars just wink so I think that means they’re catching on.
This is my own brain's ramblings! Carry on. Also wrote this after a Panic! at the Disco concert wow we love Brendon Urie
z Jul 2018
i do not write much anymore about how much i appreciate you
for a long time perhaps i've forgotten to
or i've lost the words
but now i shall say once more
i love you

when the skies as well as my heart have greyed and the raindrops have fallen
your smile shines like the sun, bringing light into my life
when the nights are lonely and dark clouds rise in my mind
your laughter clears the fog  and opens a new way

no matter the time or place
rain or shine
i'll love you

no matter if worlds tear us apart as they always have
if our chances are slim and the heavens have dimmed
i'll always come back to you
no matter what i do, i always come back to you
even through the days where i feel lost from you, disconnected from you
i always come running back to you

messy, but that's love, right?
Chloe Jul 2018
go to work
come home
stare at my freckles
browse through reality tv videos on youtube
day dream about a career
thinking about writing a song
a thankyou to the bus driver
chunks of time spent over thinking
cherry tomatoes or beef tomatoes
rubbing my nose
giggling with the girls at work
checking out a guy
worrying about your brother
not eating enough
creating tv adverts in my head
writing down your thoughts
questioning your mental health
craving a pizza
the urge to pick your nose
antisapaction for love island at 9 o'clock
ready for a city break
trying to be more feminine
then remembering there's various defintions of being feminine
beams of sunlight
pastel coloured sunsets
anxiety on transport
wondering the meaning of life
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