Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Em MacKenzie Apr 2019
I remember the “reset” button
on my Sega Genesis
and my N64 as a child.
With a quick **** of my hand,
all my mistakes, and problems
could be solved.
I’d get a fresh start,
a new chance to win what I lost.
Almost every single day
I wish for a “reset” button on life.
Instead, I’ll have to settle
for an incomplete game
with achievements unlocked,
with no extra content,
and the lowest of low scores.
A Simillacrum Mar 2019
When I placed the squares under my tongue,
I opened up a portal in my head to elsewhere.
I never want it closed.
The mistakes I keep making once again make
a grand display on the center stage.
It's coming to a close.

Snake the internal path to a detached land,
hands and arms thrusting a T like Jesus.
I cannot let it close.
Trace the slipping blades of grass with no demand,
but to find my voice, hidden, wherever it lies.
I cannot let it close.

I'm at a stage, where stepping back reveals
my influences have transcended and become me,
when what I need, is to find myself
and then speak.
Cedric Feb 2019
‪I see people struggling with what they learned.‬
‪I’ve yet to learn anything.‬
‪My mind just feels empty and blank.‬
‪There’s nothing in it but abstract forms that ellicit vague and varied emotional responses.‬
~
‪Suddenly, without warning, “it” attacks.‬
‪But my apathy would invalidate “it”.‬
‪But “it” stays there.
Waiting until I feel again.
Until “it” re-triggers my emptiness and apathy.
Waiting to be filled only to be spilt and reduced to nothing.
An absence, a darkness, an abyss of unfeeling.
A deprivation of senses as if something has died.
“It” just does what “it” is intended.
At first, apathy dismisses “it”.
But soon, I regain my consciousness.
And “it” subdues my consciousness into apathy.
“It” is an endless cycle.
There’s no other word for “it”.
~
It is just “it”; an entity that lacks words to express, a phenomenon.
An anomaly within me.
I’m tired. Academically drained, lacking passion and dreams. Lacking aspirations, goals, ambitions and motivation. Lacking a future outlook. Trapped in a cycle of an empty mind and a broken body. I don’t feel anything but heaviness. Maybe this is depression? Lapses in memory? Random aches? Hypochondria? “It” swallows me whole.
Taylor - Sweety Feb 2019
I forgot your reminiscences that were keeping me awake at nights,
I shut out the thoughts that reminded me of you,
I put away all your souvenirs and pioneered on a journey without you,
I shrugged off at every mention of your name,
But
Everything hit a reset switch- the moment I ran in to you today !!
Now I have to push myself out of this graveyard again, mend my broken heart again,
Erase your memories again, write off your name again.
Looks like I will have to be born again..
EmperorOfMine Oct 2018
Annoited within the bleeding
Left falling in broken endings
A story built on our showers
A horror built up like towers

Humanity is resetting
Repeating all of our actions
Resulting in stories setting
A looping theme of the masses

A tragedy's in progression
No peace sent into the pending
Will, we ever have a session
That'll end without us pleading

Absence in understanding
We'd not know what's up ahead
As we wander the forest thinking
We've won when we've lost instead.
Lyn Jul 2018
when will the time come where the broken glass would be whole again?

just one last time, i want to see a glimpse of your gentle smile

shall we round up time in order for our love to have a second chance?
Sandman Jun 2018
Twenty four seven.
Bling.
Clock stops.
Phone rings.
I got space cadets dropping like bombs.
Certain smells bring back memories.
Bling bling bling.
Ca-ching ca-ching ca-ching.
Money.
Dollar bills bleeding out of me.
I got a criminal mind.
I never see behind.
I only look ahead.
And I can't remember what I even said.
It seems to me that I'm just heading forward into the future.
Everybody around me stops the clocks as their mind rock on the fine line between fantasy time and reality.
Time goes back.
And the phone rings.
The world goes black.
And I go back to the start.
Twenty four seven.
This is a poem about a guy who is into crime but can not remember anything at all. He thinks that he is moving forward but he is not. The week resets itself so that he is in a never ending loop of crime but unaware.
Devin Ortiz May 2018
The world falls apart at the fringes.
Reset. Bright light. Mind wipe.
Later, some time much later.
I have forgotten it all.
Only to remember.
A cycle of breaking amd mending.
A cycle of failing and reseting.
The rumble of worlds turn over,
More times than I'd know.
I feel the tremors, delusions or not.
But the heart of this problem.
The meat of it all.
Is this ****** door.
It's weathered, worn,
But resistant to time and change.
Beneath the creases of its ironwood,
Darkness screams forward.
Calling, crawling closer to me.
Later, some time later.
I remember, I open the door.
The Pandora's Box of mind.
My world crumbles, white blind,
Reset.
Mystic Ink Plus Apr 2018
Later that night
I find the magic of sleep
Reproduced alike
In similar way
In most of us

If have to,
Sense the happiness till the blink
If need to,
save the memory
If wish to,
Erase the memory

Think less, Sleep more
Now close your eyes,
Once again

Let the magic begin.
Genre: eXperimental
Next page