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Emilyn Oct 2020
im overcome with the need to reinvent myself and confess everything to everyone, to become so open that im bleeding out every secret ive ever had to keep all over the linoleum floor, but second thoughts stitch me back together with needles made of words meant to cut, whittled down thin enough to fit just underneath the skin, pulling gashes in my skin together with online threads about checking up on your friends that everyone reads and nobody listens to, performative pieces that people regurgitate to make you think they care but they dont, because we're too busy worrying about ourselves to think of anybody else. we're conceited by nature, reverse narcissists kneeling by a river, scrutinizing our reflections, searching, aching for imperfections so we can say "look at how horribly ugly i am and pity me". we're too proud to be pitiful and too pitiful to have any pride, paradoxical advertisements of lonely people too scared to ask for love.

my hands are shaking and my mind is buzzing and if this makes any semblance of sense to you then I am so terribly sorry.
i chugged an energy drink before spanish class and came up with this mess of metaphors. enjoy.
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2020
a glimpse of
what might have been:
the candle
and the blow

pacing the floor
mind filled with nighthawks
stomach with bitter pills

snow on the window sill
--the long winter
of our love

it comes out of the blue
like dead reckoning

thoughts of us

a hand withdrawn
the final wager on goodbye
Nylee Sep 2020
A tangent drawn over
Below looking for cover
Closely following through
Decide against going after
Elevating my view
Further towards the issue
Glued my eyes toward sad side
Happiness doesn't make my guestlist
It has been a while I've felt good
Jinxed my life with overthinking mind
Kind of never been ever kind
Letters and words, I cannot encompass

Much like my dreams that never came true
Not thinking about it doesn't make them go
Ongoing struggle keeping the feelings inside
Pushing it within, to not hinder my work
Quite unsuccessful attempts, and I see day becoming night
Rays turning dark in blink of time
Stars are no longer seen in the night sky
Turn the page over, how do I
Until almost I tear those pages out
Vanishing away is a thought lingering
What good I am currently exploring
Exploring the tweaks of my current life
You wouldn't want to share one with me
Zero is the number of chance, you'd like me.
Colm Jan 2020
Desire of being
Give me your name
And a photo to match so that I can see past
The flatness of this absent meaning
Give unto me
Yesterday - Tangent, Wishful, Desire To Know
Ksh Nov 2019
I'm trying this new thing
wherein I take something ugly,
and turn it into something
I find beautiful.

Like the concept of myself
being replaceable and dispensable
in someone else's life,
in this very moment in time.

I choose to interpet it
as me being a signpost, a direction
to the one true place that someone else
is destined to be.

Like tangent lines,
meeting once,
in a certain finite point
in the infinite board,
and to never meet again.
Confusion's forsaken my thoughts to the long-lost brothers of insecurity.
Forcibly taken and tossed aside to hide within the lies of insincerity.

Kindred servant's lullabies:
Forgotten songs of yesterday,
Soothe me into waking nightmare.

Lead-shoed memories float upon seas made of stone,
Buried shallower than a grass-fed grave.

Anxious tensor userp my synapse's happiness...
Clutching my eversweet peace like a spoil'd child.
Hidden from view,
but most certainly there.

Dare me to escape the frozen steel I call home.
Wrought Irony,
Dragging my prison beneath my feat...

Misspelling's intentional because my feat?
Dragging my feet.

Asleep at the wheel,
my heart is steel.

Awoken stone cries gravel tears,
bruising my feet as I walk,
Talking as if the sensation is anything less than profoundly real.

Tangency is my thought process,
Clever distractions from the harbor'd fears:
just look the other way.

Case in point:
Confusion's forsaken my tears,
as my fears fade away,
if only to return another page.
Homunculus Jul 2019
Twisted tales come surging
From a mind writhing and purging
In an oft fomented urging
For expressions, pure and raw
That fight repressions, lure and claw
Their way up to the surface
To effect a sense of purpose
But it's really all just worthless. . .
That's, unless you think it's not!
But if you don't: Your brain might rot!
Your skin might bubble, blood might clot
Leaving you heaving bile and snot
Or maybe phlegm and sputum
So your mental stores, you loot 'em
Load these rhymes up and you shoot 'em
Into repressed regression's mains
Into depressed suppression's veins
Until they sing a glad refrain
Of being decoagulated
Platelets become agitated
Now the blood is circulated
And the brain that hibernated
Has awakened from its slumber
Now it ponderously lumbers
With intentions unencumbered
Gotta do it by the numbers
So, them synapses start firin'
Them cortices start wirin'
And belly full of fire sings
Of jelly beans and tire swings
Of silly schemes and flyer wings
On foul mouthed little parrot,
Owners ***** laundry, airs it
Polly want a *******?
Just a snack sir?
But old Polly sez:
"**** me harder, Álvarez!"
Look aghast, her husband Ted:
"Oh hell no *****, 'cause that's the bed
that both we AND our children sleep in!
you've got Latin Lovers creepin'?"

She vacates the bedroom weepin'
Well . . . that took a drastic turn
To dwellings where disasters churn
So silly, will we ever learn
Or for mere want of learning, yearn?

(Tom, to himself: Go eat food. . . .)
(Tom, back to himself: Good idea!)

I think he left, but I'm still near
As tattered, scattered writing, dear!
So, read me well and read me clear,
And bring some friends to visit here!
(Paraphrase of System of a Down song from 2001 tour) I'm on drugs! I'm on drugs! Iiiiiiii am on DRUGS!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm on drugs! I'm on drugs! Iiiiiiii am on DRUGS!!!!!!!!!!!! Doooooooooo yoouuuuuuuu like DRUGS? Iiiiiiiiiiiii ammmmm DRUGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" But so are you, really. You drank coffee today, didn't you? AHA! Caught you right in the act! Case closed. . . .
Anya Oct 2018
I'm fine
I'm pretty sure
I'm fine

I'm normal
for the most part
I'm not super different
I don't necessarily stand out
I'm that nice girl
who's kind of a nerd
A sort of vague
baby bluish
in your memory

Except for those
who I am close to
who see me as more,
splatter painted orange
which happens to be my least favorite
and tiny splotches
of greens
and yellows
then if you look way down
deep deep deep
like the deep blue sea

I'm fine
I'm pretty sure
I'm fine

I began writing poetry
due to loneliness
My obsessive
had put
tantalizing thoughts
in my head of what school
best friends
but wasn't

I would notice
every little thing
a drop of a pin
would mean
a world of difference
in my head

I'm fine
I'm pretty sure
I'm fine

I'm smart
But lazy
I don't spend
enough time on
what I should
I'm too privileged
I complain
(As I seem to be doing now)
I don't understand
what it's truly like
to not

I do as I please
It's not
that I'm not a hard worker
But it's like now,
when I know I have
two essays
and two
speeches to write
(And science homework)
here I am
writing poetry instead

I'm fine
I'm pretty sure
I'm fine

I've repeated that,
how many times now?

I wonder what got me started
on this furious
ferocious tangent
I think it was...
another poem I read

About how poets
have something wrong
with them or other

I began thinking,
what about me?

Who's to say?
Probably me
Because I'm me
And I get to decide
who I want to be
Is what an optimist would say
Not cheesy
to believe
to believe
You know what?
***** it,
Um...all I know was that it was me talking myself into going from uncertain to determined but I'm really not sure where I went with that. Hope it's relateable or gets you thinking!
maxine Jun 2016
life has been busy yet uneventful
which doesn't make sense to me
..people ask what my plans are and i have none and yet it seems like i'm busy
busy doing nothing
busy going insane
busy being stuck inside of my own mind all day everyday,
laying in my bed with depressing thoughts in my head
i haven't written and it's wearing on me
i'm tired but i haven't done anything exhausting
i'm just tired,
and i wish i could say i feel numb because then it would help explain everything to everyone and i could just say, "I'm numb."
i could say i don't feel anything but i'd be lying to everyone including myself
i'm a mess
i can't figure myself out
i am a very negative person
it's always been hard to be positive.. i've never known what positivity is really..
anyone i've ever been around has been a pessimist and so i always thought there was only one glass and it had to be half empty.
i'm half empty.
i am a loser.
i have no friends, (which i say because i do but it seems that none of them want to hang out with me because my summer is uneventful)
my life is uneventful.
it always has been.
i am an uneventful, boring person.
people tell me i'm funny and i should be a comedian..
but i don't think i'm funny.
i think i'm annoying,
i can't have emptiness (in all forms), or awkward silences filled with emotionless faces looking at each other but thinking they're staring at me
we're all crazy.
but maybe us crazy ones can see that we're crazy which make us better than the "normal" ones that judge others.
life isn't complicated but we make it..
us humans.
us humans..
revolting creatures..
with our plans to have kids and get married,
have dinner with Susan and Brian,
go on vacation.
not realizing..
it doesn't matter.
because at the end of the day our lives are busy.. yet uneventful.
it's been awhile but i've missed writing and this came so naturally and i like this poem.
it's just something i've been thinking about lately and i think it's accurate.
we all have uneventful lives at the end of the day.
nothing really satisfies us,
the human race.
they call us that because we never stop going.
so therefore we need constant satisfaction.
but in the end..
we are all empty and boring.
running around with our uneventful lives.
Luna Craft Apr 2016
I read philosophy, not for fun, for meaning
I allow it to wrap my brain, tie it in little bows
Let Marx spell out socialism, let words lead to communism
We all live in caves, ignorant to the masses, see shadows and shout Plato
Nietzsche yells 'God is dead' in pain and alone
Religious intent allows us to believe, lies or not
Let men of a hundred years question my fate
Intimidate my senses, let me question everything
Even simple, we learned when, why and how as children
But we did not experience true questioning
Whether we truly chose to believe or not, I still don't know
Question my faith, my thoughts, my feelings
Let my words shatter out
Fall apart
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