Pyrrha 3d
Crawling through my brain till it has made channels connecting to tunnels like little circuits replacing my nerves, the little worm I call Loneliness wriggles onward.

A constant motion of forward goes that worm, bringing with it a never ending feeling of monachopsis.
Day after day it dwells in my mind as the worm carries on.

It adapts and evolves finding a solution to every mastermind plot I find from removing this creature, this beast, this worm from my mind.

“Friendship is betrayal, they all leave and deceive in the end,” it whispers through my head as if another conscience inside my being.

I fear the worms words and obey every command. Dare I disobey what dismay would come my way?

“Happiness is a lie along with perfection, never trace your hands along such deadly lines, the lines of which a mortal mind should never tread,” he says using my beliefs against me. “Happiness is for those who belong, not for you, never for you!”

The worm screams those words through my mind anytime I laugh or smile reminding me not to be so daft.

Oh beautiful, wonderful,brilliant demon of mine.
Keeping me from trying to find ways to end the suffering in my life
Morbid torment in the back of my mind,
Keeping me from trying to find ways to silence the loneliness screaming within,
Bringing me further into the dark.

What would I do without you, dear Loneliness?
You cloud my mind and free me from my foolish desires.
Why should I not be alone?
If I was meant to feel together,
Then together surely I would feel.
Why should I feel happiness when happiness isn’t mine?
How selfish I would be without you holy creature,
Beautiful blessed worm of wonder.
Monachopsis- A subtle yet persistent feeling of not belonging
This is one of the first poems I wrote this year, it's what reminded me of why I love poetry. It provides a place to hold my thoughts.
i love my dad
you do not see it
but that's the way
it is

three hour van silences
are no longer
awkward

i am the scion of 4
that's never going to greet him

i know a child
scratches his belly from the inside

i'm in the house of mirrors
while everyone is eating
i see through the
teasing, the
shouting
mom shakes her head "no one
can ever talk to you"
i see
through
the
pain

my silence as a message:
67 years no longer let you
rush to climb the stairs
to embrace the plush worm
of colors: i do it for you

i do not greet you
but i dress a shirt
with the caption "DADS"
and a picture of us two.
Azrapse Jun 30
i follow the prettiest girls
the ones ill never speak to
they are like birds flying around
i am but a worm slithering
through other scum like me
they are out of reach
but when the bird gets hungry
it flys down to devour the  worm
they catch us by suprise
and sweep us
off our nonexistent feet
flying through the sky
with their talons
peircing our chests
they eat us alive
striking up another cigarette
like the band playing Krupa
or Giuseppe or Calloway
and slurping hot coffee
in the kitchen,
paying no attention to the
stains of the unclothed tabletop
with the rings from my coffee cup
as I’m watching the tabby cat
through the emitted smoke,
slinking on the broken fence,
eyes zoning in on the oriole
roosting on the branch of an oak tree,
chirping with the morning breeze and
targeting the writhing worm for food
with sharp precision while it wiggles
and burrows it’s way into the dirt,
peeved from the struggle and
resting alongside
the golden pieces of my ex-lovers
bludgeoned inlaid skull and her
remains decaying under the grass
where I wrapped her up in with the
missing table cloth and buried
her in my own backyard

there’s only one way to get out
of this inescapable vicious cycle
of vindictiveness and pestilence
like a martyr being crucified by
the idolatrous or the plastered saint
and we act as if we’re the blind man,
galloping down the gravel road
towards the gallows with jubilation
and the noose hanging from the tree
sings our names proudly like
hymns from the angels choir
we drink from the
poisoned well
with delight
while squirming frantically
and dangling
like anchovies
on a baited hook
above
a battery
of barracudas

the sirens arrived and
at least there was enough
coffee and cigarettes
until the constables found me

as I glibly explained
my way out of the whereabouts
to my ex-lover’s body that was
never accounted for

like skipping stones of brainpower
across the pond of iota minds
Sela May 2
She is the worm.
The only worm who doesn't want to be a butterfly.
"Is it really needed?"
Why would she be a butterfly.
When she knows she was once a worm.
Why, why does people changing?
When others know their origin.
She is not shy to be what she is.
She deemed that God is unfair.
Worm is also beautiful.
It needs to stay as it is.
there’s nothing original about my writing.
I just listen to everyone I’ve ever met
in my life who converse it all away
and have the guts to write it down
with my own eccentricities added
like finding a baby in a dumpster,
a cockroach in the dishwasher,
your car keyed and tires slashed,
a bird maimed on the sidewalk,
a worm in the apple,
your woman gone the next morning
Aa Harvey Apr 25
The thought beetle.


There is a little thought beetle deep within my mind;
He is going around, searching for a rhyme.
He digs out my unconscious thoughts
And helps me to write another line.
When his work is done, he hibernates
And I sit back and smile.  


The ladybird flutters around inside my head;
She is in search of the pages, I haven't written yet.
She zips and darts, flitting from here to there;
She is always in a hurry and she is a nervous wreck.  


The worm is just turning another corner, in my brain's maze;
He's having a look around, to see if there's anything I need to say.
Anything I forgot to mention; he will find what needs to be said.
The slowly moving worm is lazy, but he is useful in his own way,


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Alyssa Feb 23
A
Bluebird flits across the
Cerulean sky, always
Doomed to land to
Eat her precious
Food.
Goodbye, says the
Hungry bird to the
Insect it is about to eat.
Just a little bit longer til' you see the
Knight of death.
Lies, says the bug. No
Mouth shall stop my little heart. I say
No to the Knight,
Only a
Person could
Quell my
Remaining fear of her.
So, what shall you do, Bird of
The blue feather?
Unabashed, the bluebird
Vacated the nearby
Woods, only for the
Xylophagous insect to
Yelp out its displeasure at the bluebird
Zigzagging away from him.
George Krokos Dec 2017
It is said that it's the early bird which catches the worm
and that in matters of principle we should all stand firm.
But what if the birds are many and the worms are few,
those principles people adhere to are unjust and untrue?
_________
From "The Quatrains" ongoing writings since the early '90's
Mind can be a Spider ...

Hanging up between things
Spinning a web of threads
Elastic thin intricate
To hunt food for self
Or end up eating itself...

~One can be a think tank
Stuck with no outcome

Or

Mind can be a Silkworm as well..

Confined in darkness
Spinning a cocoon of fibres
Strong lustrous fine
To be weaved into
Useful valuable fabric...

~One can be a writer**
weaving words tied with thoughts
into beautiful poetry
Just a thought to ponder upon....
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