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A Jung Lim Jun 2020
Suddenly recognized 
a day running in the morning

An enemy that I was raising
another myself

Why you are there
How long have you been there

You have tackled me
against my entire identity

You have denied 
what I was doing


You came from society
when I was young

By the words from
nearest people

I refused to accept you
But you have slid to my space


It was me who was raising
in the place that calls

Now I have found you
I **** you
A short but intense melody
Catching up with the seen and unseen.

Boundary of day and night,
Where earth's surging spin
Inexorably melts 
Cascading aches and melancholy spills 

Thirsty planets open,
For the ****** of rockets and unfurling of roots.
Nature holds her breath
and decides to wait.
The bursting promise within
the boundary of mountains and water
Life hesitates 

Where serenity of silence rules over this deserted border.
Seen or unseen,the border of unconsciousness.
By/ Angel.XJ 10/05/2020
Gerry James Jul 2018
I wake up seeing bruises on my body.
Turns out self harm can knock a person out
Just as much as her smile does.
Just a little bit of spare ink :)
Elm Jun 2018
The eyes look, but I see
The skin touches, but I feel
The nose sniffs, but I smell
The ears listen, but I hear
The tongue licks, but I taste.

So observation proves another.
A silent partner,
Silent until prompted
Waiting... and acting
When conscious eyes of experience aren't there to catelog being.
When all seems to flow naturally
I am not there to reflect
And no memory of my own can reveal
My lucidity.
An acting unconsciousness leaves awareness wanting.
jennee Dec 2015
she looks at his eyes while he stares at her thighs
and he's wondering if she's going to sleep with him tonight
the dress that hangs by her dainty physique is meant to impress
but all he pictures is what's underneath
their hearts beat giving values to their chests
of treasured boxes kept locked away from all of the rest
she wishes for solace and an assurance to not be pressed
he wishes to gain her trust and to take over, hoping for a nightly event of passionate ***
he lures her into a loophole of false intent
she smiles at his slipping mask but continues to reciprocate
they exchange words over drunk breaths
but she is too intoxicated so she forgets
her tenuous wrists are taken into his
she tries to refuse but eventually gives in
to forceful attainment and prohibited entry
she wonders if her racing heart will be heard through her thin exterior
she wonders if there are other words for "help"
and why men always have to be the superior
her fingers are helpless along with tight shut eyes
clothing sliding from svelte body parts, past unconscious skin
she senses heavy breathing, not hers, to keep herself wondering
unaware and completely susceptible
she falls asleep, passing out with her body against his

the sun will kiss her tender cheeks
with the absence of coffee drinks
she will be awake and lying next to nothing but empty sheets
she will remember looking into his eyes
hoping that he was the one to keep her safe from reoccurring lies
but he was nothing but a crooked thief
who robbed her of her entirety

a poem that i made about 2 months ago
Kathleen M Apr 2015
It is dark here
The folds of cloth sheltering
Smoke drifts by lazy in the air
The fear is present
Stay here
Stay underneath
It is safe here
My head rings loudly inside
Like a branding iron in my brain
Don't get up
The light makes it worse
Underneath is safe
Shut your eyelids
Let unconsciousness sweep the pain away
Laura Turner Dec 2014
Do not presume to think dear sun
To ****** away my dreams
The dark still holds me in it’s thrall
Within the great unseen

They will not lift these limbs of mine
They wallow in their weight
Enjoy the burden of their bonds
Refuse to animate

A captive to these strains of sleep
Gladly shackled to my bed
I revel in their sweet confines
My eyelids drawn with lead

I Self sedate with each warm breathe
Benumbed by this safe drug
Which toxifies my consciousness
I revel in it’s fug

I will not wake, I’m staying here
Please do not liberate me
Reality’sbecome too much
For me to cope with lately.
Barbara-Paraprem Jun 2014
There’s a gap
unconsciousness and unconsciousness.

© Barbara-Paraprem, 2014
Balance.  What a charged and pregnant word.

Balance.  Common in our daily vernacular
but void of it's innate and innermost meaning

Balance - what do you see?
The Golden scales of antiquity?

What a dichotomous lie
For Balance is multi-planar, multi-dimensional
Multitudes of exponential, fractal-like branches
Hanging from the largest trunk of the largest tree with the largest network of life-providing roots spreading in all directions at once like a wild-fire with unlimited fuel

Balance.  It's perfectly symmetrical reflection
Only distorted by the waters of our perception
Thrives and simultaneously strives for connection
Connection to the mirrors of eternity
The pristine, naked, flesh-covered bodies of pure vulnerability, set free to explore this spherical dream

Balance is a friend, but left unseen, reaching for our touch without so much of a glance towards it's arduous efforts to bond with the deep dwelling dreams of Souls,
Balance can be distorted, as the tree is, in the ripples of our confused and distracted minds.

Crack!  A branch breaks.
Balance falters, catches itself and picks up its severed limb - a sacrifice, for the greater good.  The only good.

Crack!  Another branch breaks.
Balance steps to redistribute it's misaligned weight
A sacrifice, for the greater good.  The only good.

A fitting mantra.

Crack!  Crack!  Crack!  Branches breaking back to back
Plummeting to the cold hard ground.
This sudden decay is too much to handle
The limbs of this great tree, the greatest amongst all cannot regrow at the speed at which the others wither

Ironically, balance is now imbalanced

Shaking, desperately grasping the ground with its roots  to stay upright, at the very least, to remain present, persistent, possible, but, most importantly, present
Present for those vulnerable naked bodies to one day glance past their distorted waters and into the depths of what truly is...

A force, so strong, so humble, so forgiving reaching out through it's remaining, fatigue-strewn branches in a dire need to make contact with the branches of our mortality

When branches unite, as they shall, as they always do from time to time,
Imbalance is washed away as waves wash the shore
And Balance emerges from the distorted waters, now retreating, pulled by the tide of self-awareness

Perfectly, our fingers fill the gaps of our grief-stricken but eternally determined ally and meet with it's tender stumps, the necessary wounds of time
A fusion of worlds meld the two together in a forge as hot as the sun but as nourishing as a mother's touch

Balance, in all it's glory, sewn to us through the channels of our consciousness is now, truly, and undeniably,


- Brian Patrick Williams

— The End —