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Xoundor 1d
It’s starting. I feel the taps.
I glance over my shoulder. No one there.
In my mind? “Hey chum, got time to spare?”
Time slipped and left the dreadful gaps.

“Hey chum, care to wake up?”
Reality calls. Eyes on us. “Help me out here?”
“Sorry chum, nothing but void.” A nervous tear.
Get up and pour some coffee in that cup.

Dear mind, we need to talk.
“Cease your violent tapping, leave me be!”
Eerily quiet, but the shadows glee.
Dim lights. Senses rest during a late night walk.

Hopeful dawn. Tell me a story, my friend.
“Look at you, chum! Paying attention!” Rising stress.
His lips move, his words roll. Tap tap. “Mind, please continue to process!”
A fleeting tale, instantly lost. I was there for you, yet absent.  

A mind deep as the universe, yet without gravity.
During daylight, always beckoned by fantasy.
My thoughts fade away, my memory fails. I swear it’s not apathy.
I try not to drift. Please bear with me, for your love is my necessity.
Sometimes, however blank the stare may be - so restless the mind can be.
These are the inner conversations that take place and the sudden realization of reality which ensues.
I wonder how many may relate?
annh May 2020
I watch him tapping, from the corner of my eye.
Left hand. Pointer to pinkie. Sequentially.
Beginning and re-beginning.
Defeated, intent, scowling, jubilant.
In my imagination he is a poet, counting syllables.
Writing haiku in his head, as he waits in traffic for the light to turn green.

‘You've got to be kid-
Well, crud, what just happened there?
I ran out of syl-‘
- Rick Riordan, The Hidden Oracle
Arisa Mar 2019
i'm sorry that me nervously tapping on the table
annoys you
sara,
but like,
it's not as if i can just
not
have anxiety
or anything.
******* it sara
Emily Miller Oct 2017
Tap, tap, tap,
Go the keys,
Tap, tap, tap,
Furiously nailing the letters to the page,
Like nails to wood,
One at a time.
Tap, tap, tap,
Words about heartbreak and love,
His eyes and her eyes,
The way his coat smells,
The way flowers grow,
The way music touches your soul.
Tap, tap, tap,
Spinning sugar-sweet rhymes about “womanly” things,
While my womanly thoughts lie burning in the deep,
Dark,
Cavities of my chest.
Tap, tap, tap,
Deep down,
Beneath a waterfall of Earl Grey,
Beneath the flutter of a feminine heart,
My womanly words crackle like a fire suppressed.
Tap, tap, tap
I can hear them rumble like thunder,
So close to being spoke,
Being written,
Being typed,
Tap, tap, tap,
Tap, tap, tap,
The fire and the thunder stay in my chest,
Rolling and seething,
Tap, tap, tap,
I continue to write,
Tap, tap, tap,
Someone else’s words.
There are those you meet
You've never laid eyes on them before
But you feel that  you've always
Been listening to their song
Their banter
Hearts that split you open
And throw you off your own
Imprint
And you start to wonder
If from now on
This ink is permanent
And when you start
To fall into their eyes
You feel like you could
Trust your life to them
You don't know why
It's not logical
And your mind starts;

"This isn't real
They're just like everyone else"

Still you feel their feet tapping
Inside your skin
And their hands brushing away
Your issues
And your tissues tingle
And don't give a ****
Because it's such a perfect
Moment
Where the air is thin
And cool and sharp
And cuts like a laser
Right to where there's
Nothing but this
And you find yourself
Wanting to be everything
That they are
Whilst at the same time
Knowing you already are
And you can't decide
Which is more beautiful
Their bone structure
Or
Their quirky knee-hopping
And you know for now
It's a perfect, transparent
Irreplaceable moment
When you want for nothing more.
The guileless feeling of innocent heart space......the frequency of human beings when they resonate, the limitless variations of love in all it's magical forms...The freedom of unconditional love
Liam C Calhoun Aug 2015
Fireworks thunder like
Stars long gone,
And I’d remembered
Something Grandpa once said –

“The world’s a wonder,
But home will always be
Home.”

And the fireworks still thunder,
But I’m the star long gone,
As I’d remembered
Something my son once said –

Innocent and earlier mirror’d,
His eyes were all that’d speak,
“Please.”

So now, I knock, atop the “thunder”
Calloused oak ‘fore, “father,”
As I discover, come echo’d only answer –

Whispers brought the cold, and the scent
Orchids wrought, “tell him to hurry;”
Once and an only gasp I’d hear too late.
I hated my father; but do I now? You tell me, please?

— The End —