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loggi May 2019
I lay my foot here
On the traces of the side
And follow the floor
As if it is a guide.
It's sort of a game
I like to play with the stone
Whenever I am walking alone.
Maybe they see me
Skipping always twice
And following the sidewalk
In a strange zigzag
But maybe they don't mind.
Saint Audrey Mar 2019
Rip
Stay true to your mind
Inner calm, inner calm
Inner...
...
Buckling under pressure
Stay true to yourself
A few minutes
All these questions
Could've...
Thought...
About...
That...
Before...

Stop­.

...

Inner calm
Breathe

It's cold
It's too ******* cold
Help
Help
It's getting worse
Help.

What's that?
I think it's the door
I focus on that little worming, niggling voice
Burning
In the back of my throat

There's no point.
Help.
HELP
Iska Oct 2018
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Isaac Oct 2018
It may seem like you are lonely,
but you aren't.
Written 19 October 2018
Saint Audrey May 2018
I held in vain
The hope that you'd change
And stop making me feel
Like I'm doing something wrong

In future, will, tended to how it ends, etched into the slate
Ground straight through our skin from birth, what we choose to replicate
Pointless as a new endeavor, still, another sick debate
Debased all sense of decency, enough to incriminate

Hopeless days
Keep passing by
Complete and vacant
Yet I still try

Arguably, far too jaded for this measure of reality
Wrested from our nestled coffins, directly into sleep
Fleeting things, though labeled clearly, time will never tell
Entrancing, some formality, a sliver of repetition is

But I stayed
The same
For all this time
In the hopes
You'd see me off

Still, crawling to the overture, slight against the weak
Long, death still operates, each future growing bleak
Shrouded heart of all uncertainty, for myths, voluminous  
Captive, my apotheosis, in a metric of release

At the end
I still respect
The autonomy, I can see you smile
So go ahead
I won't keep you waiting
Mood
Arlene Corwin Aug 2017
Bemoaning Similes & Metaphors

         (the lack thereof )


I cannot think in similes or metaphors.

I can, but it’s

An artifice.

A gift

I’ve not been left with.

Of course,

I’ve got Thesaurus –

My old pal -

To push me

In the simile

Direction.

Those

Whose

Aptitude’s

To see,

Their inner eye

Comparing parallels unconsciously –

A gift of gene and DNA –

Overwhelm me.

While I moan about my lack,

They sit with throne and luck

Expressing with an ease,

Anything they ****** well please

In metaphors and similes

I lie in bed,

This running through my head.

That’s why it’s here.



Bemoaning Smiles & Metaphors 1.13.2010/8.17.2017
A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;
Arlene Corwin
It can seem silly sometimes - even containing a sense of the ridiculous
Àŧùl Apr 2017
Those angel faces,
Seem so distant,
Me, my loneliness amazes.
My HP Poem #1515
©Atul Kaushal
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