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Heidi Franke Apr 2023
He called in for a shower after being alone on the streets for a week.

Is that time enough
to get ***** for a shower
   as a man nearly twenty-six
in years.
She could turn him away
like her father’s sister
might have and did.
From time to time.

It all depended on how many times in a week,
month, or year
he would show up without a call.
Without knowing he still existed.

Somehow, his presence and
were a mixed blessing.
His presence was like a merry-go-round
that goes against the earth’s pull.
Like a brazen thorn
stuck into your shoe.
******* all the ***** things in.
Taking everything in its sight
and power and making
everything contort
to his reality.
Where he and only he resided.
Would she open the door for him?

What she does know
is that she might risk speaking
in a bright happy voice
of a mother
so gladsome to see her son.
Welcoming him in.
Rather than turning him away
because of his inconvenience.
Grief is inconvenient.
That is one thing she knows.
Notes on helping a mentally ill adult child. Copyright 2023 @ Highwireart
Don’t these hours fly by
No wonder my body can’t keep up
When my mind can’t comprehend it
The days and weeks pass through
Space faster than light in a vacuum,
For the vacuum of life
Is much more efficient
In ******* out everything
Than we could possibly mimic.
9 lines, 220 days left.
Saurabh Raizada Feb 2021
Cocooned in groggy haze
swamped with torpid emptiness
jaded sea of inert vacuum
laden with muzzy loneliness

sharp tick-tock of the weary wall clock

I lie awake with my eyes shut tight
striving in vain to dream dreams
caged in a mute indifferent night
inertia of stodgy listless being

wait is long… no sight of dawn

Exhausted ceiling-fan rotates
loose rusty rod, old dusty blades
creaking & groaning every two rounds
lazily it swings & sways

just like fan & the clock
I too am a mechanical zombie
wobbling thru’ the night... barely alive
Dereaux Oct 2020
In a vacuum
you were trapped

I jumped a hole
in the air

In infinite space
we fled together.
Salmabanu Hatim Apr 2020
Days at home and I have started hearing things,
My furniture and home appliances seem to talk to me.
My bed says "Come and lie down,
Enjoy tea in me,"
My pillows say,"Hug us,relax everything is going to be fine.
As I entered the kitchen my toaster jumped up to warn me of my wife's mood,
Too late, we started arguing and the vacuum told me to **** it up,
To make matters worse the washing machine put a different spin on everything.
The T.V and my mobile threatened to die if I did not give them rest,
Furious I banged the front door,
The door **** advised me to get a grip,
But the door screamed I was unhinged,
At that my fan soothingly said it would soon blow over,
At last the curtains ordered me to pull myself together.
Was lockdown can play havoc on your mind.
Many questions have been raised on my nature
The most of them by myself, but also by the people;
The funny thing in the huge number the questions assume:
They can be answered by one word: Vacuum.

From those questions, some may please me
Like "What art are those that may lead thee?"
Or "What limit has been reached by your knowledge?";
They are rare but I like when I'm asked on my storage.

While there are questions I barely like
Like "Why are you a person whom we barely like?"
Or "Why are you so different and not alike?";
Let's answer them by a single strike:

My nature is like the nature's nature:
There's no place where's no creature;
So, what I'm fighting is what the nature's fighting,
Where is darkness there must be lighting:

Vacuum, I'm all fulfilled with emptiness,
If there's ten planets I need a twentieth,
I wish to fulfill my eager to be fulfilled
Even if by the pressure of that knowledge I'll be killed.
M Sep 2019
What a ******* *******,
you really ******* are.
If ***** were made from hydrogen,
you'd be a ******* star!

Fuel for ******* hatred,
Burning without end.
Ensconced by ******* vacuum,
because you've got no ******* friends.
Nigdaw Jun 2019
I wrestle you out of the cupboard under the stairs
Every weekend
Scaring the ******* out of the cat
Who by now knows what is happening,
Perceived as a fight to the death
Filled with electric noise, until finally
I tame the monster and put it to bed
He elects to hide
In the kitchen, under the table.

We dance the waltz of cleanliness
Over carpet, lino, round litter trays
Up stairs and across bookcases
Just you and I, an odd couple
Locked in a battle against dirt and dust
The build up of bacteria (yuk!)
Cleaning away the footprint of a week
On the possessions of our life.

My wife doesn't know about us
You and me and our OCD
We share for an hour, or so, while she's out
Shopping, drinking coffee, with her mum
Ours is a secret affair
******* cat fur out of the crevices,
When I am done we part company
Hiding our passion behind closed doors
Until we meet again, next saturday

My love.
Pyrrha Apr 2019
My love fills the vacuum of space
It melts the ice caps in the north
Reaches to the center of the earth
Stretches from sea to sea
Yet my love still can’t seem
To find you

My love screams above the thunder
It sings softer than a lark
Turns lava into rock
Fills the stars with light
Yet my love still can’t seem
To reach you

My love grows roses in the sand
It turns shadows into sunlight
Makes salt taste like sugar
Takes strolls across the universe
Yet my love still can’t seem
To touch you
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