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Mystic Ink Plus Jul 2022
Writing for me isn't easy
Unwriting, much harder
So I do
Until I get enough

With all blissful vibes
Symphony of grace
Overwhelm spirit
Grounding reality
And a magic of its own

Out of sight
Let me take you on a journey
Reconnecting all the senses
Returning back to sanity
Curiosity
Wonder
Imagination
And spontaneity
Apprehending the whole
And meet you in the another realm
Healing doesn't always start with pills, syrup, sachets. Sometimes it starts by deep conversation with someone. Sometimes it starts with interaction with earthy matters, get going in the direction of wind. Travelling, music and being close to nature. To heal faster, the sufferer needs to behave like the fluid, free to flow and form.
Steve Page Apr 2022
Sometimes you won’t be, oftentimes you will
see spots and feel lost. If they persist make yourself
an appointment with a quiet man with unremitting sentences
and cold fingers which will explore new fears, fresh cul-de-sacs
leading to excision by a woman with a practiced smile,
knife-thin latex and a distance
that prevents inappropriate contact.

Sometimes you won’t be, one day you will
and meanwhile you find a new lump -
don’t wait, make an appointment
with the quiet man and he may say something
you won’t hear above the screams swallowed by old nausea.

Sometimes you won’t be, one day you will
and meanwhile you let regret rise
and tell your daughter all the too lates
that wait unopened.

And one day you will.
Again, triggered by Tamar Yoseloff's collection: The Black Place
Jan Apr 2021
You told me
THINK about your health

You told me
I HAVE to stay in discipline
to get a life to LIVE

Everyone tells me
I CAN'T **** the treatment off

ENOUGH
I don't want to die
I don't want to die
I don't want to die
But
What if I die?
Or worse,
What if I never get healthy?
Treated like a queen
Now afraid of her majesty

Reluctantly, I have seen
confidence becoming vanity

From self-love to narcissism
ongoing insanity

From king to servant
emotional tragedy
His5Her is a series of poems with different points of view of fictional people.
Mystic Ink Plus Dec 2020
Today I consulted
Myself
And referred to you
You gazed me
Head to toe
Probably found nothing
Interesting
Then, referred me back

I put myself on
Mindset Therapy
And ensured to rest on time

"No need of follow-up"
"Heal by yourself"
Pretty harsh advice, that was
Genre: Clinical
Theme: Something out of nothing
Eola Nov 2020
My memories are gone
Not that I'd like to remember
The last time she didn't hit me
The last time she treated me better
me Oct 2020
i never understood the phrase
home is where the heart is
until i was shaking on the floor of
my hospital room and it was nothing
but walls
and even when i found the energy to
decorate with cliché little things
like fairy lights, posters, my
skeletal “art”
i felt the room swallow me whole
until i was nothing but a grain of sand
my new roommate was a wrinkly zucchini-girl
and i tried not to speak to her
but we heard each other cry in the night
and we never said a word
but i could feel her eyes on me
a girl down the hall
heard me talking about my addiction and
she told me she would pray for me
later that day she pushed me
into a wall and pressed her
lips against mine
then told me i was tempting her,
i was a sin
just waiting to happen
so i sat in the dark outside her room every
night before i went to sleep
and sometimes she would
come out
and hold my hands
and tell me she loved me
Maniacal Escape Jul 2020
Prism paradise.
Administer the scimitar serum.
Stray, gleam, candied eyes.
Stay, morbid stars,
Sermon on the shoe horn
The 10, Ja commandant
Glacial looking glass,
I love what you’ve done with the place.
Thomas W Case Feb 2020
Hook him up to the machine.
Shock his brain into
mediocrity.
Death stalks him;
he is aware.
There is too much
flash in his eyes.
His brain needs a reboot;
he needs to forget,
like a goldfish, like
a monkey in the zoo.
Hook him up to the machine.
He is too sentimental.
Salmon swim in his blood;
he has a paisley heart,
and a tie-dye soul.
He can smell colors.
Hook him up to the machine.
He has Van Gogh eyes, and
a Bukowski gut; he walks
like he's lost in a maze;
hunchback sadness,
butcher knife nerves,
Hook him up to the machine.
He believes in love,
and has too much trust.
His vivid green memory
is a curse, we need to
crash it, **** the eternal spring.
Hook him up to
the machine.
we all go crazy sometimes
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