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Eyal Lavi Aug 2017
The sun burns bright
The heat is blasting, scorching  hot
Burning razor rays of light
Beams like sharpies poking at the
Pockmarked clouds
Let through the light in shards
So bright
It burns I look it hurts I stare I dare myself to count to ten
By two i cannot see what's 'round
And still I stare by four I'm blind
Eyal Lavi
Tatiana Aug 2017
Taking a bite into a sandwich,
A well made peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
And tasting nothing.
The jaw moves up and down.
A hand migrates to the temple,
Feeling the muscle respond
To the empty, automatic, chewing.

Boring.

Breathing in a breath of fresh air,
A spring breeze carrying the scent of lilacs.
And smelling nothing.
The lungs expand and deflate.
A hand is placed on the ribs
Feeling the bones respond
To the empty, automatic, breathing.

Boring.

Watching storm clouds in the distance,
A western front bringing the rain closer.
And seeing nothing.
The eyes' gaze broken with blinks.
A hand is placed next to one eye
Feeling the muscles respond
To the empty, automatic, blinking.

Boring.

Turning on a car radio while driving,
A voice reports the unusual weather patterns.
And hearing nothing.
The ears started their phantom ring.
A hand is placed on the volume dial
Feeling the ear drum respond
To the empty, automatic, ringing.

Boring.

Picking at the worn steering wheel,
A ripped, and tattered leather covered wheel.
And feeling nothing.
The skin got caught and ripped open.
A hand is placed over the heart
Feeling the chest respond
To the empty, automatic, beating.

Boring.

*I don't care.
© Tatiana
Lyn-Purcell Jul 2017
Be sure of one thing
Use that tongue and taste your words
Before you loose it
Easier said than done sometimes and not everyone has a filter. This is dedicated to people I once knew...
Jeni Jul 2017
Language is like a void
Yet concrete is porcelain skin
And chocolate dreams
I listen to shadows
Remembering how frantically the words melted
Sacrificing my tongue for your delicious smile.
I wrote this a few weeks ago with one of those fridge poetry magnet sets which I found in a box in my house.
Kitt Jul 2017
It smells like first love
Says the perfume bottle
Smells like true love
Says the bath bomb

What does first love smell like?
First love smells like rain
The heavy scent of the air
Before a thunderstorm

True love smells like cookies
Baking in the background
And a rich *** of coffee
Brewing from fresh beans

And of cinnamon in hot chocolate
And lavender, like my lotion
And spice, like his deodorant

First love smells lightly of sweat
Because you're nervous
True love smells like tears
Because it's never a dry-eyed affair

It smells like the flowers
Of the wedding bouquet
And the crimson and white
Christmas flower display

First love smells like body spray
Slathered on to hide the sweat
True love smells natural
Bad breath in the morning
And yet fine
Because it's theirs.

First love turns to sweet summers' air
Vanished with August's last week
True love kisses the scents
Both foul and fair
That break upon my cheek.
2014
you can look all around and see.
you can touch you can breathe and hear.
you can mostly control what you eat,
but not everything you see or hear.
when the words flow
like glacial plains uninhabited but still alive
because it moves.
when the sights set
like a stone curse locking my joints
I can try to ignore, distract distractions,
don't have to try to reminisce.

you can take the interest from the stars.
you can give a break to someone who hurt you.
you can sleep along the side of a body,
but not the edge of a canyon.
tracing a yellow alien and ourselves
as a foreshadowing of what is to come,
or dressing the dog up like a lobster
and it wasn't even Halloween.
people talk about the right way to live
as if it's a one-size-fits-all but it's the
yellow alien that we haven't met yet.
M Harris Jul 2017
A Magnetic Dream Conceived Of Timeless Perfections,
With Telekinetic Screams & Flawless Imperfections,

Programmed To Transmits Her Prismatic Light,
Inflamed, She Emits An Axiomatic Delight,

Her Lilac Senses Filled With An Eternal Slumber,
With Insomniac Pretenses Sobbing Into A Nocturnal November,

With An Ensnared Avidity & Reunited Blues,
Flared With Frames Of Her Reignited Hues,

Tattered As She Respires Into An Abysmal Disguise,
Her Motionless Shadows Reprise Into A Dismal Surprise,

- 03:57
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