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Bridget Aug 2017
Slowly it creeps in…
Interrupting our day,

At any given point, early or late..
An ache, an unquenchable thirst…
One that fills our stomachs with grumbling pangs

Desires unknown.
Satiation needed.

We live our whole lives taste-testing…
Adding a dash of this, and a pinch of that.
Looking along steadily for the right ingredients

Indulging, experimenting
To create the perfect, delectable dish

Attempts to appease the hunger inside

For that certain something
we can’t quite put our finger on.

Fortunately, for those
with a pickier palate,
the world is a smorgasbord of appetizing opportunities

a la carte.

Each perfectly prepared to placate the pangs of deprivation.

Some develop a propensity to the sweet savor of friendship
garnished with laughter and smiles,

The lush decadence of romance
infused with the spice of passion and intimacy,

The tangy taste of adventure
swirling with titillating thrills and discoveries

eager to try it all.

Others, looking for fast-food fulfillment,
Merely experiencing the bland, unappetizing selections of life’s menu…
Are left deprived…
momentarily pacified
hungry …
Ever wanting more.

Nevertheless, Despite our hunt,
For tasteful satisfaction,

Whether a seasoned slow-roast
Or a processed package

we all create our own comfort dish.
Our special go-to..

…Satiation
xmxrgxncy Nov 2016
Read me
like you're under the sheets
holding a quivering flashlight
reading a book Mommy told you
not to but that you told yourself that
you could.

Read me
like the paper thin news
that you strain to hear every
morning but then **** back in
disgust at when you realize its
its contents.

Read me
like the person you wish
you knew how to read and
that you want to more than just
about anything but know that really
you shouldn't.

Read me
like the dictionary on your
paint-peeling kitchen bookshelf
that is boring yet holds truths about
life that you wish with all your might
weren't true.

Read me
like you have tried so
constantly to read your
fading falling self that I say
I care so much about but you
won't listen.

Read me
like the anxious mess
that I am when I even hear
about the past I can't change
and the future I want so badly
to make better.
just a vent of sorts, trying to be poetic but my poetry is **** lately. I just wish i could put messages across in a way that would make people listen.
I had forgotten what home felt like.
The things most important to me were lost.
The smells, tastes, soundscapes only I know.
I had forgotten the touch of home.
How it hugs me,
Safe
I remember all the laughter brought,
and never have I forgotten my mistakes.
I carry my home with me,
But I had forgotten a key component.
Home feels like home.
No matter where I am,
Or the choices I take,
when I hug you it's home.
Inspired by the song Home by Dan Croll
A plane made of tin cans soars in flames through the sky.
Black smoke trails its tail as it plummets to ground.
I stand.
I watch.
              unfazed.
The nose of the jet crashes to  the earth and it burst,
into tin butterflies,
which undoubtedly, to the skies they return.
                                                         ­                      I wake.
in the same room,
in the same bed.

the same place was I, when the sun rose,
and dove into the horizon.

the same sky,
the same clouds.

the same smell of the sewage rising through the streets I trek.
the same people at the corner store that check,
for loose cigarettes, gossip, trash talk and street knowledge I bet.

I forget.
I'm confused.

What may be normal for you may differ for me,
when gang members intimidate everyone they see,
on the crowded concrete streets of Broad St,
bums ask for change for something to eat,
then run to store like ***** for cigarette.

Is this "Normal" for you?
for me, its as plain and repetitious as a scratched CD.

I wish you could borrow my soul to understand me.

— The End —