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GhostCat Apr 16
Looking for inspiration
In a desolate dreary wasteland
The same **** just different days spent
Hoping life will finally make sense
Cos I've got bored and aggravated
With the drama that will unfold
Is this really the end of the road before me I behold?
So I form facts from fiction
To avoid repetition
Of dreary events to which each week ends
Cos my yesterdays tomorrow
You know so my yesterday will follow today
A bit like Bill Murray
From that film Groundhog Day
But with a lot less adventure
Or comedic reflection
A script not to question
No seems between scenes
I'm caught in a dream I can't see me come free from
And those are the facts son
There's no lights camera action
No glitz and no glamour
Definitely no famous actor
With the hardest tasks keeping track of
...
Straight from morning to night
In the flash of an eye
The same simple ending
A yawn then a sigh
Only to wake with a shudder
Butterflies inside flutter
Feeling nothing but gutted
No new day
No new dollar
It's the same as before
As you walk out the door
The same route to work
To prepare for the worst
And they call it White Collar
Should be Call Centre Curse
Shane Leigh Feb 3
There is a world laying outside a window and looking out is a woman. She stares, unknowingly, out towards what could be the vastness of the year or the quickness in a day, an hour, the second it takes to inhale and exhale the sigh that leaves her lips that warmed her mouth that expanded her lungs causing the diaphragm to visibly widen and then recede again.

It may be unknown but it is all too familiar - the feeling of looking out of a window, inhaling and exhaling, feeling and watching the breast rise and fall, the repetition of it all THAT is all too familiar. Then it settles in. The resignation that this might be an always unknown sight with an always too familiar feeling, action, inhale, exhale, inhaLE, exhALE, inHALE, eXHALE, INHALE ....

Don't forget to eeeeeexhaaaaaaaaaale ... blow. It's close iiiiiiiiiiiiiiinhaaaaaaaaaaale ... it's autumn again ... eeeeeeeeeeexhaaaaaaale. Wonderful. Excellent. Marvelous! Steady now - it's not unknown but a curiosity. And so begins the cycle of my anxiety.
Hi! Hello! Hey!
I hope you guys enjoy this!! It's a sneak peak into how I kind of cope with my anxiety.
© Shane Leigh
Jim Sep 2021
Another time, another space
A breath from fear and grieving
The sunlight fills an empty void
But soon I will be leaving

Tire tracks on dusty roads
Her crimson heart lay beating
Generations of divided families
Yes, soon I will be leaving

The destination was never known
Each path opaque and deceiving
As soft as ravens opal wings
And soon I will be leaving

Watching rose blossoms grow
This gift is for receiving
Comfort found in the daze of summer
So, soon I will be leaving

Don’t run, please stay awhile
Hope and love can be deceiving
My back turned towards the bell tower
For now I will be leaving
spacewalker Jul 2021
I'm happy, but I don't feel that way.

From cutting wrists and tormented sleep,
I've come so far,
but sitting alone in my car,
I know just how close my feeling are to being dragged right back to when I felt nothing at all.

Life's good, but not good enough

My smiles were fake,
Only real when I got baked
But even that somehow felt better then being so close to falling back into that dark place

I think I loved the chase,
but it's over now

I'm happy
I guess,
But terrified too

Because I know the only feeling that can come next
Melody Mann Apr 2021
Stuck in a societal routine she hustles a monotonous 9-5,
Shuffling through days that melt into weeks,
Awaiting to escape arbitrary rituals - she seeks release.
Gabriel Apr 2021
.
Play.

I do not know which iteration of myself
I am pleading with this time,
but let me ask on my knees if I will still be you
when I get to wherever I’m supposed to end up.
When you say ‘try again’ I reset,
slam myself into doors and windows until
the milk of my bones seeps back
into amniotic fluid, and then I am here again.

I am here again, and now
I have new mistakes to make.

Pause. Confusion. Breathe. Play.

There’s a body in the glass,
fragments plucking themselves
through parallelities;
there’s something beautiful
next to something that stings,
and they pool together
like watercolours against a sky
where you can pluck your finger
from the air and lay claim to the spot
where you think the end might be.

If you want the end to be yours,
then take it. Tell me
how I should be going about this,
and if you can watch as I
ruin everything again, let yourself
become dust in the air
and surround me with the control
that I do not have.

I’m not in control.
I’m never in control.
And there’s something absurd in the air
that pushes the day to the horizon
again.

It’s up to you now.

Pause. Rewind.
.
From a collection of poetry I wrote for a creative writing portfolio in second year of university, titled 'Spiral'.
I love films!
Some long others short
I've lost count how many I've bought
I love films!

I love films!
Black and white to colour
A cool dvd cover
I love films!

I love films!
Box sets, special edition
Today's new acquisition
I love films!

I love films!
My moment to be free
Sat with my cup of tea
I love films!

I love films!
Simply put they're the best
What do I love? You've guessed!
I love films!
©️ 2021 Joshua Reece Wylie. All rights reserved.
Inspired by my love for films
Akhil Bhadwal Mar 2021
Baby I'm sorry, I don't want to be mean,
Meaning is that I don't want to sin
But what can I do, if I don't feel it beyond my skin!
Oh No! Oh No, that means! She's sorry again

What a fool I was, to make her bear that kind of pain
Pain that is not meant, never meant to be seen,
Something I am to avoid, so keen.
Oh No! Oh No, she's sorry again!

She asked me if I was bored, I told her not,
Hurtful words I said, I accept this fact,
I'll try my best to never repeat this act.
Oh No! Oh No, alas! She's sorry, once again!
Follows a b b c rhyme scheme.
Nat Mar 2021
Baseline fractures
Faults in the earth
Inevitable crevices, unfathomable
Depths, and the-
                         -another?
                              Baseline fractures



Darkest shores
A dozen dead mourners
Grey lights and
A land without corners

Horizons twist bitter
Into themselves
The world descends further
Out of the shelves

From dust a baseline
From dust a hall
From dust to dust
It's just a hall
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