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I couldn’t sleep.
My brain shivered when I moved my eyes.
I felt invincible
“Invincible” fails to describe it.
Then I was a cockroach
Crawling like a little bug
My head missing each obstacle
Just enough to feel them
Brush their matter against me
Blowing a rush of air back at me
Warning me my choices are crucial.
Cutting it close to the end
But - I don’t mind it.
-I’d be a liar if I said
I didn’t like it this way-
Some fear the discomfort called the unknown.
I welcome it with open arms
A gift in each hand.
As long as it never bores me.
Life must never be boring.
Fear is inevitable
It is always present
My greatest weakness.

Life is not the time to find your purpose
It is the time to create it
If I Falter
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

If I regret
fire in the sunset
exploding on the horizon,
then let me regret loving you.

If I forget
even for a moment
that you are the only one,
then let me forget that the sky is blue.

If I should yearn
in a season of discontentment
for the vagabond light of a companionless moon,
let dawn remind me that you are my sun.

If I should burn—one moment less brightly,
one instant less true—
then with wild scorching kisses,
inflame me, inflame me, inflame me anew.

Keywords/Tags: love, regret, forget, fire, sunset, sky, blue, vagabond, moon, sun, burn, true, kisses, inflame
Brayden Guilford Dec 2019
In the glen the brawest lassie keeps
In the glen where the brawest lassie weeps
There be a lad who wakes an' dresps,
He stood an' march'd awa' tae there!

Did he wave in awe! In awe! In awe!
Or did he march tae the borough hall?
Wi' the piper on his should'in'a'
Oh! He's aft at the a'! chattles call!

“A'm a man in tartin dresp an' that,
Wi' the guard, the colours a' a'fly
Oh! The jack and stars upon thy breast,
They lack their patrio Naw! Oh! Naw!

“A see her now in moonlight dressed
In nightgown white like 'er breast!
An' heart'burst'aseem! A'seem!
her bonnet a' a glitt'rin' gleam!

“A a'march'd thourgh the bonnie fen
An' lookied back at me ain dear glen
Or the river it drained did me o' sin
An' looked again, again! Again!

“That lassie deed, she, deed she's dee!
An' aft awa' A march awa'
Whilst lookin' frae me ain dear glen
Me ain dear glen, me ain dear glen!
An' aft wa', A march'd awa'!”

In the glen the brawest lassie keeps
In the glen where the brawest lassie weeps
There be a lad who wakes an' dresps,
He stood an' march'd awa' tae there!

Did he wave in awe! In awe! In awe!
Or did he march tae the borough hall?
Wi' the piper on his should'in'a'
Oh! He's aft at the a'! chattles call!
R Oct 2019
He travels
Aimlessly

With no specific place
In mind

He is not lost
Nor does he want to be
Found
DC Hall Jul 2019
A window seat
A good book
Dylan's discography
This ought to get me there.
I'm headed out with my life in a bag.
The simplicity of it all on your back.
Profoundly liberating to societies hold.
ESHÉ Mar 2019
My mothers love I never knew.
Her affection was cold and pale blue.
My thorny heart was born to sin.
In creek water, I'm born again.
A pack of joes, a fith of gin,
I follow ghosts of what could've been.
Ive seen the sun pass through the. moon
In every town, I start again.
Derrek Faraday Dec 2018
Before the thaw, my feet will be rooted
Into this nation’s primordial freeze
My muscles and bones will be acquainted with malaise
The sun’s altruism will be refuted

Before the thaw, I will struggle to find consciousness
The frost will leak through the bedroom window
And don the facade of a blanket
The door will prove to be bottomless

Possibilities will seem unachievable
The brain will itch for what it can not have
Buses will limp through congestion
And the blizzards may feast on the feeble

You may want to write of your misery
But your automation will halt in cataclysm
Because someone held a door open
For the gust that billows bitterly

Gastric emissions will become tangible
As smouldering wastes contrast against the sky with rancour
The wispy whites, marginalized into *****
And the world remains infallible

I will lack the tools of incision
To enact my life’s revisions
I will weep for my unguided millions
While I saunter into oblivion

After the thaw, I will smile
My expatriate soul will run in the whimsical wind
Of the morning dayspring that will march unto me
I will stand over a kingdom of honey-filled tiles

After the thaw, the arks will converge
Into the straits of the Bermudian Sea and the
Elusive Caspian Forest, where I will learn to love again
While bidding farewell to winter’s dirge

In the waking world, I will ***** a limestone castle
Where entropy will rule and the mind’s domain
Is left susceptible to perennial reverence
The sea, coloured true, nesting a fairgrounds vessel

In this Great Revision, gargantuan skyways
Will show the world how exiguous we are
That we must not wait for exodus to come
Should we fear to waste away
Into icebergs
Sunny Gulati Sep 2018
With groggy eyes

I glanced outside my window.

It was early morning

and the street was deserted below.

Sleep had somehow evaded me

the night before.

The desire to mould my future

forces my mind to work overtime.

I have forgotten how to relax

and switch off at night.

Unknown fears drown my mind

all the time.

Below, I saw a vagabond,

unaware of where he was lying.

He slept more peacefully than me.

His needs were probably less than mine.

He was like a rolling stone

who gathered no stress.

Whereas my expectations offered resistance.

Preventing me from going with the flow, in acceptance.

Though our needs are few,

our expectations can become too many.

As I looked away, I wondered whether

I should pity him or me.
The more your expectations the more are your troubles
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