#accumulation - Hello Poetry

I have become the sum of all my fears and failures The accumulation through the years, To some degree, Is on another level then most others Uninstalled the self installed blinders Hoping to stumble across some left behind life perks I didn't know this is how finders keepers works Nothing found has kept me off the ground, Barley kept me out the ground, And every moment hurts For what it's worth, I don't know what I'm worth Starting to wonder, Just internally first, But maybe this whole thing is cursed Or worse There was never a purpose of falling prey to thirst ©2024

0

Apr 14, 2024

Apr 14, 2024 at 8:49 PM UTC

bettsjc187

~•§•~ Or Worse ~•§•~

I have become the sum of all my fears and failures The accumulation through the years, To some degree, Is on another level then most others Uninstalled the self installed blinders Hoping to stumble across some left behind life perks I didn't know this is how finders keepers works Nothing found has kept me off the ground, Barley kept me out the ground, And every moment hurts For what it's worth, I don't know what I'm worth Starting to wonder, Just internally first, But maybe this whole thing is cursed Or worse There was never a purpose of falling prey to thirst ©2024

18

A lot of people in the world labor under the weight of too many things they have accumulated in their lifetime and to which their mind clings. _______________________

0

Jul 28, 2023

Jul 28, 2023 at 10:28 PM UTC

George-Krokos

Simple Observation #353 - A lot of people.....

A lot of people in the world labor under the weight of too many things they have accumulated in their lifetime and to which their mind clings. _______________________

3

All this dread and regret is getting out of hand It’s staining my skin Seeping through my hair Contaminating the walls, The floors, Everything i touch They go hand in hand, you know... I dread things i shouldn’t give a second thought to, And regret my choices later on-- I don’t know why It’s so **** hard It’s a vicious cycle And it’s out of control My mind just won’t let me do things That i really ought to do Because i know i’m only going to **** it up later I know I know I can’t do it So when it’s time to pay my dues I prove myself right And sink further into the Suffocating cloud Of regret.

0

Oct 11, 2017

Oct 11, 2017 at 10:35 PM UTC

lady_grey1002

This Vicious Cycle

All this dread and regret is getting out of hand It’s staining my skin Seeping through my hair Contaminating the walls, The floors, Everything i touch They go hand in hand, you know... I dread things i shouldn’t give a second thought to, And regret my choices later on-- I don’t know why It’s so **** hard It’s a vicious cycle And it’s out of control My mind just won’t let me do things That i really ought to do Because i know i’m only going to **** it up later I know I know I can’t do it So when it’s time to pay my dues I prove myself right And sink further into the Suffocating cloud Of regret.

24

I am in levels. Past levels. This deep, intrinsic wonderful lost, the lawlessness of its fascinating expenditure of excite. Pushing through the wild and feral snow-dusted plains and timber ridges. Like red-spotted dots breathing through the cylinders called the spine. This descends into a narrow channel of scantly clad greenish scenery in a time-soaked visionary wilderness of snow, Our crab legs dancing down wiry purple highways, our heads could not even look backwards if we had wanted. Furious, love-latitudes, stalking breaths thwacking fork-ended tongues into a pinkish knot buried into the first layer of organic membrane on this railway of miniature canals, showing. And their pride snuck into the elbows, shooting down each vertebrae as it stepped with great precision every ledge that the currency emphasized. The raw accumulation of stolen heart-beats rattling between the interstices of new fuel careering these red engines. Crashing with exquisite pleasure into one another.

0

Apr 26, 2014

Apr 26, 2014 at 4:41 AM UTC

martin-narrod

I am in levels. Past levels. this deep intrinsic wonderful lost, the lawlessness of its fascinating expenditure of excite.

I am in levels. Past levels. This deep, intrinsic wonderful lost, the lawlessness of its fascinating expenditure of excite. Pushing through the wild and feral snow-dusted plains and timber ridges. Like red-spotted dots breathing through the cylinders called the spine. This descends into a narrow channel of scantly clad greenish scenery in a time-soaked visionary wilderness of snow, Our crab legs dancing down wiry purple highways, our heads could not even look backwards if we had wanted. Furious, love-latitudes, stalking breaths thwacking fork-ended tongues into a pinkish knot buried into the first layer of organic membrane on this railway of miniature canals, showing. And their pride snuck into the elbows, shooting down each vertebrae as it stepped with great precision every ledge that the currency emphasized. The raw accumulation of stolen heart-beats rattling between the interstices of new fuel careering these red engines. Crashing with exquisite pleasure into one another.

3