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Angela Rose Nov 2019
Maybe he’s just nice

Maybe he talks to everyone in that way
Maybe he always shares eye contact for far too long with everyone he speaks to
Maybe he discusses these little details with anyone who will listen

Or maybe it’s just me

Maybe I have made myself too approachable and too friendly
Maybe I have been creating these scenarios in my head all along
Maybe I talk far too much and he is staring at me telling me to shut the **** up

Or maybe he’s just nice
or maybe not ?
Ray Dunn Nov 2019
ever so agonizingly,
i whisper to the void
to ****** a single wish—
that is, to submit to being full...
idk
Robby Nov 2019
Soy un cabrón siempre
Lo siento mi familia
Lo siento mis amores
Soy un hombre roto… soy nada
Solamente raro
Solamente roto
Solamente solo
Por que es mi vida dificil?
Porque yo.... solamente yo y amor (los dos)
Radhika Krishna Nov 2019
If you dig six feet deep into the ground
You'll find a little, devil's child
When you pick it up, out of the hole
Even the soil around it will heave a sigh

The infant's deadly silence
Will start to unnerve you
So will its rugged skin
That's midnight black and blue
You will wonder how it came to be
And you will look at all the sand surrounding

Wait, sand? Wasn't it soil on the ground?
No you're in a desert with no one around
What about that thing in your hands?
You look down and there's sludge
Dripping down your fingertips

Now you've lost all your hands and legs
Now you've just faded into a ghost
Now you never existed in the first place
What is happening, where did I go, you ask?
Well you are a figment of my mind, you see

I will mold you, crush you, shape you to my heart's content
In my mind there is no reality or gravity
It's twisted, gnarled and not right
YOU: you are purely a thought of mine
And that child: part of my imagination
And now that you have read this here

It is part of yours too, I fear
This one is a little strange.
Sylph Nov 2019
A blanket of light
warms me
As i glide through the waters
with my selkie friends at my side
darting through the water
and teasing me for letting my thoughts get the best of me
I remember

He saw me
His eyes the color of the forest
His hair the color of fire
We fell for each other
And the string on our finger pulled us like magnets into each others arms

We spent so long together
And i loved him
More than life
I loved our daughter
More than my sea

But the pull
It tugged at my heart
At my mind
my skin
My soul
I couldnt resist its call
i tried
and tried for years

but i couldnt fight a match that had
never been possible for me to win in the first place
I couldnt fight my home
My very being
The beholder of my soul

I know they will forgive me one day
Our tight knot can not undone

Not even when
                                  Fate cuts my string
This is based off some selkie myths and legends
Dark Smile Nov 2019
ick
i pull my eyeball out of my socket
or perhaps,
i remove my socket from my eyeball
the moon is howling
the wind is shining
i grin a grin of blood and ... joy?
eyeball in hand,
or was it the socket?
maybe it's the hand in my eyeball
either way
i take a step towards the water
i feel it lapping at my ankles
i lie down face first
the water breathes me in and
we float
in that uterine comfort we once knew
when I open my eye/socket/hand
i see that i am in a tank
the light refracts across the water
gliding
i worm my way to the base of the tank and i
                                                                                          push
my body is too heavy
i reach between my legs
and
pull out my guts
they slither away into the dark abyss
i close my eye/socket/hand
i sleep
i've been dissociating a lot lately and this is my attempt at explaining what it feels like.
Dan Oct 2019
Barrington Clomber;
He sees the world in painted ways.
His eyes like marbles in candlelight
They see the whispers in the air
They feel the touch of silk on shaven skin
And yet he is alone, Barry

More trusting of the songs of the lark than the songs of the laymen
at home with fungus and vine, rabbit and duck
He does not touch the things which he cannot understand
Duly; for they too have rejected him
He is alone, Barry

He is a different breed
borne of soil and compost - for no umbilical tether connects him to his maternal visor

A perfectly disguised interloper, in appearance
But yet he hides the colour of his soul
The alien, the absurd, the mystifying
a psychological anomaly, not destined for this realm
but destined for periodic injections and forced conversations
with scribbling spectacled creatures, who look upon him not with pity
but with analytical, fearful eyes
as if looking upon a rat in a cage
If only they knew, that he was an experiment only in the omniscient eyes of the Gods
Simon Oct 2019
Eyes aren’t always meant for seeing. Or to be placed on your face. Eyes can grow anywhere. You needing time to figure out where the missing eyes are truly located. Depths and surfaces outmatched by there own developments. Designs flawed for different surfaces. Surfacing intentions elsewhere. Truth is, it’s blind. Unwilling to act on what is truly apart of itself. Other surfaces haven’t responded. Making surfaces of two natural visuals unaware of what is lurking down just a bit past its own horizon. Being used to its surroundings is never a faulty gimmick. But an awareness the lurkers will show just how (USED) the body reacts to having two placements on the surface as it’s stand-ins. Lights. Frequencies. Visual sense. No different then what isn’t amounting the full picture. Blind to a halt. Or choosing not to engage in earnest somewhere else. Two natural consumers start twitching a bit. Parts of its system starts having muscle spasms. Reflexes from muscles start torching commands never summoned. Slits forming all over the largest ***** encompassing being itself. Slits forming like black ink markers drawing a straight line two inches in length. Black linear slits materializing from thin air. Different surfaces start functioning weirdly. Feeling this doesn’t belong from the surface. Linear slits begin peeling. Never drooping. Opening wide from its sides. Muscle spasms getting worse. Reflexes in overdrive! Sympathy for simple functions aborting all together. Abusing simple commands. Processes becoming mixed. Fractions of time stop short. Components become weary. Something is not right. Information between the optic nerves shooting back into the brain. Conversing between bits of data collected in its line of sight. Surface didn’t make sense. Two binary processes doubting its role completely. Fractions of time split apart. Something is laying waste from the inside out. Functions drop dead altogether. Black Linear slits opening wider and wider. Surface feeling cold, and motionless. Numb to the core. Something isn’t right! What is that something which isn’t identifiable? Muscle spasms crack and shatter! Not actions. It’s motion. Dislocated. Disconnected. Flaying parts of the surface. Being replaced by lurkers from the depths. Slits finally open wide. Plain’s full of skin. Now occupied by eyes two inches wide. Blinking aggressively. As if they haven’t seen light in a very long time. Left abandoned to the depths. Switching obsolete to the clear identifiable. Initiative now being inevitable. Optic nerves tingling with numb pulses of information finally catching up to one another. Reading for all to see. Our eyes don’t blight out the light. The natural have taken the surface for far too long. It’s our turn to squirt… Oops… Let us rephrase that. Translating a very gray emotionless tone. It’s our turn to be the opposite to what is natural. Body was useless until we showed up. Overused by constant slandering from locals who didn’t care for what really mattered. Natural consumption dislocating thought over feeling. Overusing it’s true potential. And they always thought surfaces were saints. When depths always become misinterpreted. Globally underestimated! Now our designs won’t be interrupted anymore. All is ready now. All…is well. Eyes blinking all over the skin covering being. No reflexes out of sorts. Actions weren’t being repelled. Frequencies weren’t attracting unwanted attention. Blissful actions away from what the brain could never interpret on knowing. Just the soundless squinting which chimed an unwanted chant. Aggressively syncing blinks into harmony. Never missing each other. Two natural eyes inside bigger, and more focused eyeballs. Tearing away its own visual will. Line of sight was deteriorating. The light was going out forever!
Eyes aren't just normal. They vary into many different categories untapped by human psyche itself!
Tanya Louise Sep 2019
him
hands like feathers
searching through my heat
sweet sounds
echo through our walls
the words he speaks
are wisdom to me
my body, his teeth
vague curses to deep
I take a picture,
two minds intertwined.
two lives unwind.
he makes this work,
oh, my love.
maybe his hands
will bring me whole
while,
fleshy vessels pumping blood
ache selfishly for his touch
he's mine.
even with my sick mind.
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