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Pasquino May 23
The strings of my lyre I gently pluck.
To the moon I sing my saddest ballad
and pray it brings me news, with any luck,
of a queen alone across the canal.  

“Please tell me if, my love, it hurts tonight
or if she is dancing without me?
But either way I’ll weep; I’ll write a line,
another mirage short-falling from her sea”.

I’ll be ****** if, for me, she lights the pyre
and in saddest ritual burns her hands trying.
No word I’ve ever spoken, or ink I’ve put to paper
was ever worth a tear from bluest ocean’s labor.

I’ll slay gods and swim across the Aegean
If I get to kiss your hands to health, protean.
rig May 18
i cannot remember how uncomfortable the chairs
at my highschool were – i just know that they must have been so.
all those science classes kept both my eyes on the window,
lost in dreams of different lives. i thought ‘nobody cares’
was a good reason to erase my problems – mine, not theirs,
no, ha! – so i went along with that life (emphasis, though,
on the li-e). that’s when i discovered the one way to go:
words. stories. a dim, slow lightbulb that caught me unawares.
first fearful steps turned to blog posts, then a fantasy tome;
short fiction gave way to poetry and recovery.
it took me years to know what to be floating on air is –
and now this broken english is what i call home sweet home,
imbued with the daily gift of a grand discovery:
that there are worlds still hiding from me in dictionaries.
kayzamo Apr 28
Half asleep feet shuffle in aimlessly;
Water fills the celestial coffeepot.
Chocolate brown grounds by a spoon are allot.
A spoonful spills to the floor! This marks its tragedy.
Another, another, so painfully,
This tragedy would make any distraught.
How can sleep be torn from eyes so bloodshot
Without the black elixir so holy?

The sleepy feet walk through the garage door,
Each brooms' handle is long like cold harpoons.
It sweeps up the wasted dreams on the floor.
"I measured out my life in coffee spoons."1
The tedious toil begins once more,
And so go the morning coffee mistunes.


1 - From "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot
I gladly accept critiques. Thank you kindly!
the scent of woman broke about me as
I entered slow the small shared dorm,
his mattress lay stripped bare and I did form
the reason he had asked that I delay.
his anxious questions sought to fill silence,
an empty space that she had left behind.
In truth I would not say I was unkind,
but how I tried to torture roommate mine.
I was not bothered he had used our space,
I too in past had indulged love's embrace;
but this only happens once in a while
and how his discomfort could make me smile.
artificial sweeteners and chemical beauty
Hopes of a future never to come pass.
Cutting of thread leaving a trail of red.
Comforting lies, take on vengeance’s plasse.
Callow certainty leading my bloodshed.

Essence refusing change, oil and water.
Dripping maroon, satisfies my sweet tooth.
Lost track of my goal, now it's a slaughter.
Enciphered desire, immiscible youth.

As I let go sorrow’s waters -- forlorn,
See me with your purest eyes, unerring
Touch of a mother’s hand, I am reborn.
Sins, a raven’s coat, heavens are glaring.

And as I lay my vision ridden red,
How foolish to lead to one’s own bloodshed.
this is my first sonnet (I did it without the iambic pentameter because I'm still learning)
rebecca Apr 21
A million little thoughts, their heads cut off,
all running laps around my crowded skull
and multiplying, unlit Molotov.
I feel like i'm going insane, it’s awful
to be in this headspace of anxiousness,
just waiting for the straw to break my back,
always one second from the bright abyss.
It could be that I just need to cutback
Or maybe what i need is just to go,
I'll drive until I can't and then I'll run.
I’ll up and leave everything that I know
to find the path that's not a loaded gun.
I can't imagine asking for all this,
God let me meet peace with a final kiss.
4/3/2021
Charlie Rose Apr 19
I feel my old burns heal over again
The restlessness of withdrawals still here
Just one more cut to quiet thoughts within
Just one more burn to calm the constant fear
Just one more viewing to feel less alone
Though I have endless private tabs lined up
Just one more drink while I scroll through my phone
A new shopping spree to feel like enough
But my demons will never go away
I cut, drink, and ******* to drown it out
Who cares if I lose touch, I love the pain
I've already far outlived my planned day
My plans keep shattering, I've no set route
But I can't have you see me like that again
Mostly a venting piece bc I'm trying not to relapse into self harm and sometimes addiction kicks your *** really suddenly 60 days in.
Ai Firefly Apr 16
the needling breath
of forested speech, an echo
of the way we bend

the drive to appease
the mouth of serenity
revives the scant scent

to take inward
in drams of swallowed tithing
spiraled blood writhing

spread of skeletal
rise, of ancient hymns of birth
rooted vibration

the WHO in the hollow drowns
the wonder of the stretched ear
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