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Peter Roads Apr 9
I hear voices in my head
I hear them sound like dead
people on Any Given Sunday
an ungracious abundance
of other peoples’ voices

I hear them most
when other people speak
loudness leaks from moving lips
to say words that make no sense
that say something else
the Politics of Experience
unfold me like some geometric inkblot

I see Batman
I see Batman

Did you hear that?

It sounded like Batman
like a Batarang
catching some villainous cape
like a car door closing
on a Great Escape

it sounded like
                     two people
competing for head space
the one being said
the one being meant
the silence in between them
speaks volumes to itself
No, please say that again
in a sonorous tone
it snores my inner demon
to groan behind an asinine
slumbering inside each line
wound with reservations grinding
our hero chopped off from loose lips
to fit in the caustic grimoire of actual fact

I am the Bat
I am the Bat
I am the Bat

I hear voices in my head
that sound like conversations
an unwilling participant am I
by virtue of presence, my
lips unlocked never seem
                       to speak enough
though lips move more gratefully
than these feet that just want to leave
this place, to never talk again
sit behind a screen
be pixelated, a thinly
gleaming monitor
of the fun facts lacking
in a lark-full repartee
I check up on myself
look up the words that I doubt
check my bruises
from roundhouse kicks
split lips bloodied with small talk
sweet silence is
to stay home and smoke

I should stop talking

Did you hear that?

and when they play like they don’t know
don’t let them go
make them stay
to tell us what
they meant to say

I hear voices

Did you say something?
Olivia Apr 7
I sit in a still, quiet room.
While typing away I begin to grow weary... afraid...
My hands falter, and I pause.
Gazing out the window beside me I wonder,
"What is the point of trying?" "How can I be so presumptuous?"
"Who would possibly care about what I have to say?"

A few stale moments pass,
then I glance down at my notes.
Pages, among pages, and pages of a world,
of a single message...

I smile,
And open my blinds to the dazzling sunlight.
For once I do not bow to what I believe,
That I do not deserve to feel
Or proud.

I continue on.
I continue on to tell the story
I want to tell.
I continue on to bring joy to others
That I feel for myself and my work.

And I hope that out there you do too.
Do I wish to think?
To dream the unimaginable.
The mind of a viper;
Ambitious swipe towards intent.

Yet, its possessed fangs drip,
Such venom. A gradual drip would
Destroy the work.
“What work?” I hear you ask.

“Exactly” I whisper.
There is none to behold. With all my gall
And flapping gums, such spittle
Did not exist.

I crave to bite the apple of my existence…
Lingering doubt, lingering hope.
Can I foresee the future?
Can I not think?


To exist with intent…
Wanting so much to do, create and be something, telling people you will or you want to, yet not fulfilling that wish nor making strides to achieve that dream is something I think a lot of people feel at some point
Here i am again, stuck in conglomerates made of forgotten and downtrodden emotions, that live to be repeatedly crippled by the loud, heavy rain of cities captured by aluminium, filled with lost figures that stray further from reasons to find reason. The celebrations eventually settle, and the seasonal effects grow deeper, the professional buildings in the large, intrusive cities will beg for attention, as i quiver in my cabin on my hill of introversion, remote and entangled in the webs of my mind, as it reminisces about a quiet winter that fears its own bite, and of a storm that slows the world down, and interrupts its noise, for we are helpless to the outside forces we fail to predict.

I will listen to entire eternities of songs until my very being dissolves into a cluster of unembellished sounds, then will dream chapters, and forget them for many days, and live with my frustration until they reappear in more dreams, though now they live in separation, but later will form constellations that will once again save me from my ordinary fears, and from my rush of hatred, in the form of tactile regrets. Any intervention will be met with glares and slight anger, for their words never come with a perspective that aligns with my rage. However, it will always be followed by soft reflections in the form of perfumed apologies that i always feel come from my need for resolutions, rather than any need for something internally revitalising. Here i am again, stuck in depression, with nothing but a will to create. I am an optimistic *******, lost in self-doubt.

Told you what I was making
You said I must be faking.
Why must we speak
With razors on our teeth.

Thought that I could be flying
You said I should stop trying
Weigh me down
With all your misery.

We never get along
Yet somehow we fit.
I tried to shake you off
You must admit.
Don’t challenge me now
I’m done with it.
If this is a game
then we should quit.

Told you that I was breaking
You said I must be faking.
Why must we speak
With razors on our teeth.

Thought that I could be dying
You said I wasn’t trying.
Let me drown
In all my misery.

Sometimes the hardest battle is with ourselves.
Wandering through this town
where everyone is too involved
Where they keep asking
What you dont want to talk about

Floating between whats right and whats wanted
too many thoughts too many feelings
living with a soul that's been haunted
true emotions need concealings

Can't think clear
Subtly in fear
slightly afraid
Of being played

Admiring wild flowers
But putting them in pots
Where they're easy to watch
And ready to wither.

How can something strengthen
and weaken you at the same time
How can there still be surprises
If everything seems so predictable

But even in a town like this
People can't be controlled
There are signs that you miss
that put your heart on hold

Dont want to get hurt
So you hurt yourself
thinking it is better this way
When its not

You're playing the role you grew into
And it feels like you belong
Between familiarity and restraint
Affection and pretence

They are the people that know you best
Know you longest
That care about you and your problems
for satisfaction of their drama addiction

How to distinguish the real from the fakeness
fake care is better than no care at all
it means you're not alone.

No distractions left.
I dont wanna go.
But it hurts to stay
It hurts either way.
Gracie Mar 28
The word loomed over me
i couldn't seem to meet it
i am never good enough
i will never be
good enough
"And thats okay"
they all say
but it never is okat
Maryan Abdi Mar 21
I’m sorry.
For allowing you to feel guilt.
For making you doubt yourself.
For not believing you could do better.
For not knowing your worth.
For making mistakes.
For blaming you.
And most importantly..
I’m sorry for not putting you first.
Lost Mar 20
Beating white-knuckled fists
Into the ground
A rising frustration in my throat
Makes tears fall down

“Helplessness is learned”
That’s what they tell me
But I feel like I am
Perpetually a baby

Nineteen years and counting
I’ve been stuck in this skin
And no more control over
The cacophony within

Sitting in front of textbooks
Staring at the same words
I’m on a long road to nowhere
“Helplessness is learned”

Bound like *******
Hanging in the air
Hands behind my back for so long
I forget they’re there

“Helplessness is learned”
It’s a lesson drilled in my brain
Growing up more each day
But an angry toddler all the same

Time ticking relentless
As years fly by
While I sit in a corner
Thinking about why

Eyes stinging red
An incessant burn
It all boils down to
“Helplessness is learned”
Committing to my recovery has been difficult. I have the same feelings and negative core beliefs, but I’m trying to act oppositely until they change. Maybe then I’ll feel like I have control.
Maelynn Mar 12
Bittersweet melancholy fills my lungs
As I look upon the things I love
Searching, always searching
For a way to make it better;
Make me better
I feel so lost in a world so cold,
Everyday I'm growing old
But a look inside reveals nothing but a lost child;
Broken and scared, afraid of my own mistakes.
All I want to do is give
But all I do is take,
Another day, another head shake
Trying to clear the cobwebs,
The thoughts, my fears.
A smile hides more than words can ever say,
Still I put one on everyday
With eyes begging for them to see,
And a heart hoping they never do.
Constant contradiction, stress with no relief
Staring in the mirror with disbelief.
When did I I begin to fade away
As numbness starts to grip;
Another day of darkness gives away to winter's nip.
A moment of self doubt
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