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Lark Train Jun 2016
The gentle apathy
Which, up to now,
Had carried me
So softly through the forest here
Abruptly stopped when you drew near.
I couldn't help but be interested
In everything you'd do.
The world had grown old on me,
But somehow it seems so new
But only around you.
Fumi Himawari Jun 2016
Escape, run, a thousand miles apart.

I walk away far from that love.
It is a prison cell that deteriorates my heart.

I am letting go, because this pain won't do any good to me.

I am moving on, because I love you alone.
Independently, I will set myself free.

I want to be happy, not weary.
Without you and this feeling, my life is easy.
Connor Exodus Apr 2016
Sat in the Pub Zoo, I can nestle
And lie, in the hustle and bustle
Of this merciless crowd of brick.


My thoughts are my own for me
To lay down on a bed of broken
Bones, and weary, weeping eyes.


I look up to see a skeleton of black
And of piercings. I will never know
What it thinks, for which I am grateful.


For sometimes, I don’t wish to seek
Another ruin. My neurological debris
Is enough, it tortures me until tomorrow.


I do not hope, or wish, or think
Or willingly believe. I just sit and
Exist and critique the sobbing leaves.
Chris Thomas Apr 2016
I am a weary traveler, yet I fatigue from sitting still
I've been on this trail, seeking medicine for my disease
Not sure if I'm still alive, or merely ill

I am lukewarm water, yet I burn from the cold inside
I stop at every impasse, pushing rocks out of my way
And wondering if my legs are broken, or if they overstride

I am a rudderless vessel, paying no mind to signs
As I drift from place to place, from dream to dream
Retreating from this world without a finish line

I am a weary traveler, yet I fatigue from sitting still
I've been on this trail, seeking medicine for my disease
Still not sure if I'm alive, or merely ill
Sibyl Mar 2016
The air, it tastes of aspartame
O, how the shadow swooned.
Abrasive, it shifted hues
to white, from a maroon.
Alone, he treads on endlessly
without any sight of the moon.

Alone, he treads on endlessly
under bleak skies he spoke too soon.
A night of emptiness befalls
without any sight of the moon.
A light within still flickers
O, how the shadow swooned.

A light within still flickers.
A wisp from a cocoon.
An agonized longing rises
O, how the shadow swooned.
"but none was left but embers"
under bleak skies he spoke to soon.
Joanne Lee Feb 2016
It is relentless

It never quite ceases

Out of the multitude of predicaments, one is resolved only to be followed by another colossal quandary

I am exhausted, depleted of all vigor

So ready to resign and wash my hands of this existence

Alas, I'd like to rest now.
February 2016
Randy Ray Price Jan 2016
The clutch of winter’s cold hand chokes the air out of me just a little bit more every day. I gasp for air, but it is a lifeless, most un-sufficing sort of air. I don’t desire the oxygen, but I need it to survive. As I tread through the gray city streets the wind has a peculiar way of always flowing against me. The snow banks, by this time of year, are no longer white and pretty. No. They are *****, worn out, aching for their inevitable fate to remove them from this depressing city. But they know they still have many weeks before their suffering ends. I feel a connection with them, knowing that someday my time will come.
However, long before my inevitable death, many new summer times will spring forth much life. Soon, the air will hold life again. The wind will suddenly shift away from my face, the sun will shine a little brighter, and the poor snow banks will be taken out of their misery and replaced with green grass. I only know this because it happens every year, and I have no reason to believe this year should be any different. It is this knowledge that carries me through the grind of winter. Don't worry, your gray days will pass.
An unusually straight forward approach.
Weariness Jan 2016
I have walked a thousand deserts. I have swam so many lakes. I have died in countless fires on a reel of ever blurring takes.

I have woken from a thousand dreams. And cried so many tears. I have kept on searching for my love throughout a million grief filled years.

I have been told that Truth sets free. But for it I have seen many good folk hung. And oft have sighed at a new war, that same old butcherer of the young.

Yet seldom have I been at peace. And only once did I give my heart away. For an oath, sworn in my troubled start, has caused the ghost of Hope to stay.
Eachmilidh Jan 2016
Headlines, deadlines, quotes, replies
Feelings, dealings, truths and lies

Words of encouragement, words of trust
Stories, scandals, fuelled by lust

Paper, vapour, sound and mouth
Questions causing fear and doubt

“Media” – propaganda, facades and fronts
Changing thoughts in changing months

Opinions, minions, priming, deceit
Selling , telling, triumph, defeat

Leering, jeering, whisper, scream
The word noose bound to **** a dream

Amidst the stories carefully told
The media waits to buy your soul.
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