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Darkness, you inspire me to write.
I hate the way you silently creep, linger and growl.
Invading my mind all day and through the night,
Feeling how you prowl.

Let me compare you, oh adversary.
You are more quiet, afraid and awful.
Like the fog hides its ocean in November,
Who are you to match the contender?

How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
You whisper into the mind,
How you walk behind,
Empty days,
My soul ablaze.

Unchain me from your hip!
Set me loose!
Escape the grip,
Of this ever tightening noose.  

Now I must away with a bruising heart,
Remember my sad words whilst we're apart.

© 2020
Zachary Kinnett
Beside the river,
I transfigure into my feather shape
I am in my bird state
Calling out for my mystical encounter
"Come make me wings and help me escape "

I feel a strong heat and an intense grip on my back
I look at the mirror and see my reflection sewing me wings around my neck

Its all a trip i claim

Just like a drop of paint in water
The rain came
to destroy the image of my lover

My unheard comforter that willfully has to lie

For this river reflects my buried will to die

But i ignore it all and fly high because i am entitled to the good things in life


Words Of Harfouchism
Stones hinged
In jagged mystery
Behind whispered veils
And torrid grays.

A damp earth hinting
The bashful sun
bides it’s peak.

Morning is a majesty
parried
By chaotic wakes.

Hark!
The stolen kingdom!

All is Regicide;
the car
the train
the lovers quarrel

Over coffee-
A public execution.

Mysteries remain

The sun bides less
Unabashed-
Fading
with the grays.

We’ll try again
tomorrow.
An observational/existential reflection with a tinge of peace glorification. Maybe over-glorification? You tell me...
pick me apart
dissect the person who ive grown to become
i do it for everyone
in order to satisfy the thought of me
share of me with others
so that i can avert my true fears
soft spoken,
a need
to scream.

when the day seems
too far, I’ll put
anything in between.

these hands are
nothing new,
and we’re still
learning to agree

is it the room
spinning, or is
it me?
what golden meaning
perceived when in a moment
is but reflection
In the TV screen,
I see a reflection of who I want to be.
In the mirror,
I see a reflection of who I don't
In your eyes,
I see a reflection of who I can be.
But in my mind,
I fear I won't
Norman Crane Oct 9
To look up,
And see the plane flying past,
Is to conceptualize,
The distance between us.
We may sit together on the swing,
Winter slowly rolling in,
And talk,
But we speak in different temperatures.
Your words condense on me,
And drip down my body.
Shivering we see,
That we are separate seasons,
Never again to exist coincidentally.
There will always be,
The distance between us.
Mikaela L Oct 6
Why do people get louder when they are misunderstood?
Maybe each syllable becomes W  I  D  E  R, TALLER, simpler,
Maybe the alarming noise opens a path for the important,
Maybe there is no reason at all,
Maybe there is an element of Guernica in it,
Maybe, just like Picasso ... they just do it.
I've always wondered if it really works...
J J Oct 6
Always keep in mind--
You are your own worst enemy to somebody else
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