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it's past 12 midnight
-and that should just be okay
  given with my quarantine body clock,
but i haven't slept for the past 36 hours:
  -i walked around the city,
  -i exhausted my brain with responsibilities,
  -i distracted myself with hobbies,
but i just can't seem to sleep.

it's amazing how overthinking really rallies with your mind,
and how it affects your whole biological being.
it's amazing how, one brief moment with a stranger,
bugs me like this.

his lips,
his warm embrace,
his sweet voice.

i just can't seem to sleep,
i
need
him,
Mary E Zollars Apr 2020
My teacher asks for the theme,
But I don’t know how to answer
I know and I know that
A theme is or is not one word,
A common thing, a binding spell
A theme is or is not an instruction,
Told by the character’s actions,
Shown in carefully crafted consequences.
A theme is or is not a quality,
Something which defines a character,
Which determines the course of the story
It is or is not more than one sentence.
It is or is not subjective to the reader.
It is or is not, so I don’t know the answer.

But I could tell you about the Little Chinese Seamstress
About blind obsession,
About jealousy, about wonder
Would that be enough? Would that be enough?
I could tell you about how reading is so personal,
Its effect on one
Can not be understood by another
Would that be enough? Would that be enough?
Or how skill is developed by tragic experience
How learning comes from failing to learn
Would that be enough? Would that be enough?
Or if I told you that the quality of a book
is only as good as its final passage,
If I told you that
a story shouldn’t be told until its last word,
Bound by something so profound,
The book must be reread, reanalyzed
Delving into the intricate mind of the author,
With full control over life and reality,
With the power to make one word thousands,
A detail into a novel,
Anything into anything without writing it down,
Because if you can understand what the author was thinking,
Then the author was not thinking at all
Would that be enough?
Could knowing be enough?

If you asked an author
To name to you one of their themes,
Do you think they’d know the answer?
Do you think they’d care what you mean?

Is it more valuable to the student
To understand or to define?
Is it more telling of the mind
To describe an impact,
Or to save time?
Velvel Ben David Apr 2020
(No. 3)
I spent the evening
At Brother Ballantyne's
With the man himself
On Darius' Ranch, just past
The lime-green street sign
Which read "Nowhereville"
The best place to be
Nowhere whatever
I sat down with faces
A bit familiar to me but
Their names unimportant
"I like your friends" I said
"But what sets us apart is-
We ask all the questions."
We listened to Ugly Casanova
Painted like Picasso
In conversation as we sat
Smoked Cohiba Maduro 5 cigars
Drank fiery juice until
We were out of our heads
Wearing house slippers
& a false fur jacket
Which drew too many questions
Got too many laughs
But I have to admit, I liked
- the attention -
Marco Feb 2020
I don't know myself anymore
I am so sleep-deprived
I don't remember what a dream is
I think I live in one

I am so alone
yet you keep me company
I am so sleep-deprived
you think and decide for me

I am not in control
we have ten fights a night
I went straight for your ear
there is no light, no light anymore

I am so sleep-deprived
everything's a copy of a copy of a copy
this is my life - your life?
I am so alone
yet you keep me company

I hit you as hard as I could.
This is about "Fight Club", both the novel as well as its movie adaptation.
Marco Feb 2020
Living in your car
you had nothing but yourself
no one there to love you
no one but yourself

You hide behind
a curtain of glass
every night before you
get in the ring

You break your bones for fun
they want to see your nose bleed
cuts and bruises all over your back
is what keeps them entertained
They pay good money for your show
though they always bet on your rivals
it's not enough to make a living
but it's not too little to **** you either

Bleached your hair again
cover up the grey
your daughter won't recognize you
you haven't seen her in days

You wake up in your car
you wish you could die
you limp to the gym
because you have a show tonight

You hide behind
bottled-up feelings
right before you
get in the ring
to die again and again
every night
to stay alive
and keep them entertained.
This was written about "The Wrestler".
Erin Suurkoivu Jan 2020
The times have me gobsmacked,
petulant observer, no more endearing
than anonymous audience.

My own visions, shadows on cave
walls, storytelling secret
animal lanterns.
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