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BC Jaime Mar 2018
REM
as the light
went out

a stirring
a fluttering

gone
the day

a strange dream
the night
wished to communicate


[Note: This was originally a Blackout Poem written using the Blackout Bard poetry app. The original can be found here:
© BC Jaime 2018 || IG: @B.C.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
Atrisia Dec 2015
The dream world had its eye on me...
It came and whispered in my ears...
weakened all my senses
my eyelids started to fall.

My mind was silent,
I could any hear sleep speak,
and see what it meant,
in colours and patterns
that started to take shapes,
speak in familiar voices,
do things I'd though about.

Its like sleep knew my deepest thoughts and was willing to help me test them
in its virtual layer..

We talked for hours
swapping truths about inches of our selves
and hoping for validation.

But time arrived
Now it was in the form of birds chirping, reminding me i have to do some living. And sleep respectfully released me from its hold,
saying, " we'll meet again."
My friend asked me where I went in the middle of our texting. Lol
S A Sadeq Apr 2015
It is done for the green because of the green that flows in my veins
It is for the one who is fifteen and chose my love to abstain

It is done for the love affair and the feeling of the power trip
It is done for my inability to care and my constant need to sip

It is done because god talked to me and I am the chosen one
It is done because I am nobody and am considered equal to none

It is done because my plans are already ****** and rather vindictive
It is done not by me but by a ****** twisted yet slick miss-give

It is done because its a rare rush for me to eradicate a billion
It is done for it is his pathetic life I want to obliterate to oblivion

It is a mixture of anger and pleasure pushing something into limbo
To end every beginning including this rhyme destruction
Destruction; an aspect of death
these poems are involve in the story of my in-progress novel "REM"
There is a certain apathy
That arrives at two AM;
I don't care what tomorrow is
I just want some REM.

— The End —