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MawaLin Jun 27
I keep hushing my mind.
It’s constantly threatening to spiral.
Gabriel Apr 15
Take four
and make mistakes,
wake in the morning
to check
that your fingers are attached
to the undeniable spot
where your hands end.
Watch the clock
in case it stops;
Dislodge the plaque
behind your gums
and scream in silence
at reflection-you.
Tick tock.
Script the helix
and watch it spiral,
dipped in mothers’ milk,
everyone, gather round
for the epiphany
T-minus twelve days.
Creation calls.
Victor Frankenstein here?
Making something other than history,
constriction in the surgical instruments.
The fate you are going to meet
is going to be so beautiful
for everyone else.
You are going to scream.
You know,
a lot of this is about birth.
Through these broken walls
I hope you realise
that everything here
is supposed to create life.
Even the mistakes.
Someday I’ll write a love letter
to Rosalind Elsie Franklin, like the ones
strewn about my bedroom,
where I tell her about my day
and ask if she would like to stir sugar
into tea with me
and call it a case study into romantics.
Now, pick your metaphor
and run with it, show me
how exactly you’re supposed
to be reading this.
And when you find the answer,
let me know.
Welcome to the beginning.
From a collection of poetry I wrote for a creative writing portfolio in second year of university, titled 'Spiral'.
KHY Mar 7
writing spiral
I'm writing the spiral
I'm on my paper
drawing my pencil
I am on my paper
and I'm drawing my pencil
as all these faces that I see
are just not adding up
into anything I want to be
or anywhere I want to go  
and no matter what you say
I will never endorse it
back to the life
that takes your soul
and make it go away
an abstract poem on my insecurities about writing poetry, lyrics, or just creating art in general.
Again and again
Out of control
Don’t know why

Emotions run wild
No remorse
No regret
Saying things you’ll never forget
Empire Feb 12
It's a fascinating experience indeed
To know you're unbalanced
To know there's something wrong
To be really very confident
and to have red flags waving
But people are easily fooled
So you enjoy your high
Knowing you should listen to your therapist
Knowing she's absolutely right to worry
Knowing you'll disregard every one of her warnings
Knowing you'll lie over and over again
Because you want to be free
From the ******* of the pills
You just have to know
If they're what's ****** you up
Have you ever watched bipolar disorder set into someone? It's frightening and thrilling.
A picture hanging on the wall, a desk and two black curtains
falling down to the floor;
The full moon hides behind rainbow clouds,
stories of that yesterdays' sun
metal sounds
and two drops of heavy dew.

... Sighs ...

I was circling your thoughts,
they were mine
to wonder about
and make them shine
all the way
through the spirals of our times.

... wishful sighs ...

A picture hanging on the wall, a flower on the desk,
two black curtains falling down
and up the full moon staring...
An almost hidden by rainbow clouds
love for that yesterdays' sun...

The two drops of heavy dew
are reflecting into the floor.

© All rights Reserved Theodora Oniceanu
Traveler Nov 2020
Swirling thoughts  
Come to me
Wickedly spiraling
The rage
Choking my memories
In an
Attempt to express
Who is to blame
For my blemishes

Then I remember
I am perfect the way I am.
Another song
To serenade my ego!
Traveler Tim

The song remains insane
William Oct 2020
I tire of seeing what I desire taunt me just out of reach.
Many a number of dreams while I slumber push me into the breach.
Feelings of dread from the thoughts in my head, unable to send them aloft.
My mind it wanes from internal pains and visions I cannot throw off.
Inwards I spiral towards total denial of emotions that seem to propel.
So slow I do creep, the pain it runs deep, traveling towards unending hell.
Exhausted I lay, my head in dismay, begging for it to all end.
When will I know?
Time, it runs slow, can someone just be a friend?
Mark Parker Sep 2020
Rocks ripple my river reflection
as amber and caramel leaves spiral
from sleeping oaks
landing atop water as lily pads
and clothing my mirror image.
I envy the resting trees,
tucked in for the winter.
The place exists somewhere, I just have to find it.
CupcakesArePink Sep 2020
his pain, a spiral.
coiling and tightening, confusing and suffocating
his pain was a sweet illusion
his pain was for me
i cannot bare his pain any longer
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