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Buddy T Jun 2023
roaring beast. steam obsolete. i wish my hands. to see them fall apart. crackling dry. the crust in my eyes. moon oh please, let me be free, from this ******* heat 80 degrees. i thought i had grown, but it’s just the moss on the stone. my heart no longer beats with the rain. i just stay inside all day.

i look
the eyes
i see
i miss
the girl
to be

and if this is adult life
it would’ve been better to die
at seventeen
i yearn for the person i once was, as if she was better
vera Jan 2022
I have left my soul unfed
I stare at 1's and 0's all alone
I live within my phone.

I have no words but empty ones.
I speak the same script as everyone.

Who sees me?
If I don't speak.
Who loves me?
If I am not here.

Everything is fine.
Is what I say all the time.

When cliff sides erode
it is nature changing, becoming new.
What will happen as I lose myself, bit by bit.
What is hiding behind my soul?
OpenWorldView Oct 2021
independent minds
and critical thinkers
led to the gallows
and burnt on stakes.

but without dissent,
valid or not,
there is no progress,
just stagnation.

life is too easy
and people complacent.
numbed by gimmicks
that steal our time.

a downward spiral
of mediocracy ensues.
all leading to a
tyranny of the few
and ****** revolutions
when their lies collapse.
Leocardo Reis Aug 2021
Between the moment that passes
and the moment to come
I am stuck
in the immeasurable present.
the well is dry
i cannot collect water
i cannot sustain life

the river is swollen with toxic mud
i cannot cross to the other side
i cannot escape this

the grasslands have not seen rain in many years
the smallest spark could destroy this place
and i am awash in static

i sit under a long dead tree
and try to rest
and try to remain still

for to move is to cause a cataclysm
yet to remain stagnant is to cause my own demise

the wildlife that did not flee the drought have perished
the scavengers that came to pick apart the carcasses are gone as well

only i remain
the monarch of nothing
but bones and barren earth
Zoe Mei Apr 2021
in time
the lens
turns large and flexes
and the colors of hands
the shapes of days
the wallowing stream
the hanging chord
for god is change is time
is infinite is ends
is frozen is stagnation
is a self
a sculpture in ice
glittering melting
a tale the same
in every telling
“god is change” is from the novel the parable of the sower by octavia e. butler, i highly recommend
the triple point is the exact temperature and pressure of a substance where it can be all three states, solid, liquid, and gas, at once
Devin Ortiz Feb 2021
Tears welled in the mourning of everything unwritten.

The mind's starvation is the stagnation of the imagination.

Survival has been no serenade.
Elymaïs Jan 2021
Elke dag bring ek notepad op,
En begin ek om te skryf,
Maar die woorde kom nie.
Ek kan vra en ek kan smeek,
Maar hul wag langs die kantlyn
En spot my stil.
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