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Em MacKenzie Aug 26
I’m sleeping tied in knots,
I’m waking up still yawning;
it’s just become too much.
I’ve been multiplying my shots
looking for an ounce of calming,
but it can be hard to walk, without a crutch.

The stars are looking bleak
I’ve been busy living on the ceiling,
and prodding at my skin
as it’s become numb to all feeling.
And It’s always latest at night
when your head finds a light,
and your mind takes flight
then you gain blinding sight.

I’m sleeping with clenched fists,
and I assume with clenched teeth;
it’s just become this routine.
Body and soul contorts and twists,
layered both above and lying beneath
it’s the most flexible and restrained, I think I’ve ever been.

I had plans for this time,
but they’re reduced down to “oh well,”
begrudgingly accept that this is fine,
maybe dress it up with a “this is swell.”
I might never again see the light
but I’ll adapt to living in the the dark,
evolve, survive; flight or fight
I’ll be nocturnal existing in the park.

Victory has a hundred fathers
but it’s true defeat is an orphan.
The little things that no one bothers,
can be the greatest gifts; overflowing with endorphins.

Can you tell me where to find the bright side?
Apparently it holds all of the answers.
to cure the sickness that plagues my mind;
the worst but least lethal of all the cancers.

I’m counting the minutes
and I’m stacking the week,
and the intensity in it;
so insanely heavy I just can’t speak.
When will these thoughts diminish?
It’s growing stronger, it’s turning bleak.
The floors will shine and shimmer with wax and finish,
but it will never ever silence the creak.
The floorboards inevitably became weak.
Mix and match,
a fix or a patch?
when you towered over my bleeding body
my fractures made you stronger
my vulnerability kept you secure
the bleeding stopped
The bones all healed
the bruises faded away
but you're still beating women down
long after i walked away
i had the strength to leave
i had enough self respect to survive
not every woman has that in her
that haunts me, even now
after all this time
i wonder who is in your trap
trying desperately to get free
sometimes i think i hear her whisper
sometimes i hear her calling me
i know you are towering over her
i know you think you've got the power
but you don't know the endurance
that comes from being female
babe, i'm on a rescue mission
we've got numbers on you now
we've got numbers on you now
M Vogel Aug 15

You are in there,  I am certain of it--
Behind the gear's finely-honed,
precision fit..  gear
in to gear
in to gear

into gear..
And I wonder..  do you want out?
The machine  on the outside, self-repairs
Any attempt towards dismantle  from
the external,  is futile..
But the internal,  beautiful girl..

"I don't know what you mean, about 'machine'"
She is apprehensive, those beautiful
brown eyes,  looking up at me..
"Look down, sweet girl"
Her thighs, fully parted,  as I slide
in to her.. those amazing hips,
moving so perfectly with mine,  extracting..

Milking from me, my warm  pulsing *****--
a deeply-penetrating lubricant,  pulsed
deeply into the machine
As if to lubricate its gears..
As if..

But penetrating so deeply, as to now
permeate the insides  of the
mechanization's innerworkings--
turning from lubricant, to that
of a corrosive nature..
Fully coating now, the inner you..

as it turns back now, into that
of a healing balm
Bringing a to you moment of light  
and internal clarity--  
long enough for you to see

That the machine  is made vulnerable
by the ever-changing qualities  of
Love that found its way through
As the awakened parts within you, for the
first time.. understand
the machine's love-blocking, nature

And you begin to choose, mid-******
the machine's dismantle,  from the inside--

'Little by little..

Line, upon line..

Block, upon block..

Precept, upon precept..'

Until we have the chance,  once again..
to do it all again
the power of christ compels
Asuzx Aug 13
It makes me feel alive
When I want to die,
And reminds me why
I haven't done it yet.

Hold on to your reason
For, when your life gets ruined
And nothing remains,
It is all you have.
Reason not to die.
Strapped to the catapult
I sportively plan my escape
By listening to pictures
In stereo
Of the flight
Of a fitful fugitive
Who sculpted depressions in ice
Throughout the flowerbed
Where there is no true sunlight
Only its influence
And by inhaling this fragility
Onto glass
Lowering the thermostat
Like a guillotine
Until hypothermia
Took his oppressors
This coldness might well
Be everlasting
But then, so is the will to survive

Kamal Jul 8
He clawed his way …
Against all odds and their friends
He stood up
Shrugged off hopelessness
Packed his bags
Threw the “whine”
Killed his fear with vengeance
Never ever looked back
He walked one way … and a long way
Looked back
He was alone
And he would do it all over again
because he doesn’t know any other way
Zywa Jul 7
Trees along the road

continue to grow as if --

nothing had happened.
Exposition "Without a trace" in De Pont, Tilburg

Collection "Bruises"
Sanya singh Jun 23
Surviving ; not living.
This is the new world.

Losses and pain
We’re all stuck in the whorl.

Our world’s a little smaller now
Survivor population , as we call

But at least we are connected
With this one messy thread of a world.

So don’t you suffer alone
We all have someone, for whom we mourn.

Speak and scream and talk and cry
Just don’t keep it in
Or you’ll die inside.

Everything seems unreal today
Uncertainty being the most certain

But don’t let it go in your head
Because one day we will dream again

Its okay to be mad
Its okay to be hurt

Embrace what you feel
Even the deepest of wounds heal.
in this tough time , when nothing feels right
just remember you are not alone
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