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Exotic trollwood harlotry and mule kit blues
Tyrannical tyrannosaur traction padness
Cohort cavorts clastic and witch’s *** hues
Ontological ontogeny somatalogy fadness
Inductive endemic veracities and talus weather clues
Epistemological equilibrium’s homogeny badness
Timeless rhetorical ruminations and ephemeral exigency dues
Transcendent ascensional equivocal madness

Tactile acuity prescience capacity intrepid intrigues
Mystical symbiosis dharma sensorium sentiment proselyte
Torturous tractive prosthesis umbrage ultraism colleagues
Newfangled nocturnal nonchalant nether nestle neophyte
Top notch topography tortoise trauma fatigues
Faustian faux pas foist felicitous fealties socialite
Agnate nous ontological ontogeny euphenics in league
Mentalities evocative introjecting sycophant eulogizing apposite

Mystical terrestrial equestrian tellurian tableau
Panoramic imagery empiricist
Evocative exserted apomixies’ ethereal should show
Ontological somatalogy lyricist
Reflective refraction remissions opulence could know
Theosophy theophany epiphany equilibrist
Magniloquent inductive extrapolation quantum back ***
Transcendent nimbus nimiety exorcist
Ominous phenomenon portrayal spontaneous synchronous
Exponentially extemporaneous
Karen M Jun 10
Down to the end of a wooden dock
That sticks out a good way into the water,
She sat legs crisscrossed in a knot, hunched over
With her elbows to her knees, head resting
In her palms. She tries controlling her breathing,
But holding her breath makes her throat expand
Like it is croaking. Saliva pools in the lower corners
Of her mouth under her tongue, and she barely has time

To adjust herself as the bile climbs out of her throat
And down the front of her yellow crop top, dripping
Onto her stomach and crossed legs. Tears are forced
From her ducts as her stomach convulses. Capillaries
Around her eyes are popping from strain. Feeling weak,
She falls to the left on her side and curls into a trembling ball

But she wants to get the ***** off her
As soon as possible. Her shaking palms
Press against the splintering deck, pushing
To her knees to feel what was once in her stomach squish
Between her fingers making her stomach spasm;
She scrambles to her feet as fast as she can
When her only source of lighting is dying
From the wind. Before righting her balance, she slips

Backwards in the bile and tumbles into the blackened lake. Her head
Plunges first and water came rushing into her nose. It burns
Her nasal cavities as her eyes tear open in fear. She’s disoriented
From the alcohol in her system and the water is too strong
Against her weakened limbs. She tries to position herself
Up right, but the more she moves, the deeper she sinks.
She holds her breath and tries

To ignore the burning sensation up her nose and on
The surface of her eyes in her head and she can’t
Hold on. Oxygen isn’t going where it needs to and the edges
Of her vision darken. As a last attempt to fight, she reaches
Forward to grasp at anything she can get ahold of. Her fingertips
Stretch and curl only to move through the murky prison. Her vision

Is almost completely blackened out as she surrenders
Her losing fight. There’s a burn in her chest that grows
As the rhythm behind it slows. Her body,
Like the water, is still, cold, and tinted blue.
Not very fond of this poem. It's a take on a short story I wrote about a girl getting wasted at a lake house party and drowning. Posted for editing purposes, so comment what you think needs correcting.
Michael H May 26
Doors open and close
Times revise
Closures
Sight carried
Through with understanding
Make these things
Such
Dynamics
Touch hearts
66
amber Jan 11
I know I am really odd.
I think
My isolation,
Speaks for itself,

But,
People scare me.

My room,
Feels so safe.
Its four walls,
Are predictable.
They never say,
The wrong thing,
Or make me feel,
Like a lesser being.

They also,
Never respond to me.
And,
The constant droll,
Of my inner monologue,
Uninterrupted,
Is exhausting.
x Oct 2018
and so, he said to me, “Are you sure this is what you want? Are you sure you want me? Because once I fall in love, there is no turning back. I love hard, and I will be obsessed with you I will smother you”.

    

                                                                                                  please do not smother me; 
                 

                              smothering implies force. 
                        It implies suppression,
                   maybe a hint of aggression, 
              with a dab of oppression 
          and a handful of asphyxiation.
      In which one kills another,
   by with the stifling of breath and emotion.
It is the death of something.

       
          
               Instead engulf me in your love;
          let me be immersed in it.
cradle me.
coddle me. 
shelter me.
                
                         let me breathe,
          
                             
                 so that I can appreciate it
                       and feel it all around me;
                that makes it so much better.
      ever so soft.
      ever so loving. 
      ever so gentle. 

                

           I understand why you want to smother,
I do.
                                  Why you want to cover parts of me
                              that you feel are light-filled.
                          Watering me with muddled emotions and actions
                     that you feel are quite harmless, but understand;
                like flowers overwatered,
             and placed in the shade
        death will become me.
         I too,
    struggle with the feeling to
repress and restrain
                                           
                                         I do 
      
                         

        
                         , but you’re somebody too
                     you’re important.
                Your love is a torrent;
        the best thing you can give along with,  
your time. 
   It’s valuable, 
so you shouldn’t give if it is unwanted 

                          


                                     even to me;
   especially to me
                      

        
                     or at least don’t make it a habit with anyone 
                 you see 
           because you are too precious 
      and too valuable 
   you say I am special,
but you too, are important 
                 

                , but thank you 

                                
         I do,
                           appreciate the gesture and the thought; 
                     I do.
                  I want your love but not like that.
               I really do,
           just not that way.
       Just not by suffocation. 
 I want to be engulfed in it…

                    
there’s a difference,
        I do not want to die… I do not want to suffocate.
Mercedes Sep 2018
study the palms.
it is important to
know the branches that
the stems of their
heritage root from.

kiss the cheek.
begin to send them
like postcards.
they will look back
and read the messages
hidden in the inside
jokes and in-between
the lines.

analyse the eyes.
you can always tell
if they’re to be trusted
with keeping secrets,
memories
or promises.

tend to their wounds.
for outside there are
salted oceans
that will submerge them,
and they will sting,
and sometimes they will
say things they
didn’t mean.

dance with them.
for there is nothing
more securing than
knowing that,
despite the separate
paces of life,
there is a time signature
that will keep you
marching to the same beat.
croob May 2018
my head emptied
as though bathwater down a drain, and i became simpler:
than the children kicking and screaming and skinning their knees on mulch,
than the cars coming and going and crashing and catching dead bugs in their killer windshields.

suddenly, ripples were spreading gently through the sky
like it was a body of water, being stirred to life by the clouds
like they were the fluffy fingers of a kid poking at his fish bowl,
and i started wondering what a sky even was
and if it could be the ground
if i sought to somehow stand on it.

i sat in the grass, plucked out its longest blades
like i was a brush tearing hair from the scalp of the earth,
started weaving little green bracelets, like I'd done as a boy,
and i did it until the sun had started to go down,
unable to connect the sky’s slow setting
to a passing of time.
helena alexis Oct 2017
it’s 9:30pm on a
chilly autumn night
i step into the
passengers seat
of your car as you
start the engine

music blaring from
the speakers as the
thundering bass
vibrates through
the entire car
i couldn’t get a word
out because it was so loud

we stop at a red light
I turn to look at you
as the red light
hits your face
i wanted to take a picture
it looked so aesthetically
pleasing with your side profile
as the red light shined in your face
making your face bright red like
the blush on my face when people
ask me about you

your grip on the steering
is so strong that i can see
your veins popping out
you look so focused
when you drive
it’s ****
with only one hand
on the wheel
the other i wish
was gripping my thigh

late night drives
with you are
my favorite

- night drives
made it a little longer and detailed :)
kevin hamilton Sep 2017
5
i will write at length
about the brief time
we spent together
Wyatt Apr 2017
Open my cover
and read every last word.
Mark what you didn't like
with X's using the pen's ink.
The things that pleased you
will be labeled with check marks.
The more you read about me,
marks will continue to increase.
What was once cohesive
now is a cluttered mess
of differing opinions
When has discovery
become this terrifying?
This story was never meant to be critiqued like this.
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