#baggage
i adjust the strap of my bag
to even the weight on each shoulder
ignoring the rest of the weight that cripples me
not just physically
my stomach aches
tongue’s tied
body shakes
brain fried
voice breaks
even though i tried
to speak what’s in my mind
but just mumbles escape
i gulp
and take a deep breath
as i feel the blood being pumped
and moving throughout my being
trying to utilize the minimal strength left
didn’t know how bad it would get
not surprising from clueless ol’ me
as fate prevails ruthlessly
Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 2:13 PM UTC
put on repeat
a harvest in time
eternity knocks
we open the door
no time for goodbye
changed in a blink
blink of an eye
and we be gone.
Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 9:09 AM UTC
what's it like holding the weight of the world on your shoulders
sure you've seen a horizon or two
but are those even really your hands?
Oct 15, 2025
Oct 15, 2025 at 11:32 AM UTC
If I weren't me, who would I be?
If the world hadn't shut down, would I still
be lost?
Like blisters on my feet, I carry my doubts,
Mistook burnout for discipline, wore it as
a badge.
Baggage heavy with memories,
I drag it through the mud-
Versions of myself, deeply buried in a suitcase.
If I stop and leave it behind,
Will the old me burn in ashes?
May 27, 2025
May 27, 2025 at 1:34 PM UTC
Mr. Bag Man,
Let go of your rucksack.
There’s only one carryon the bus will let you carry on,
Those bags will only slow you down,
My hand is here to pull you out,
Of the hurts from the past that haunt you.
Bag man,
You’ll hurt your back like that,
Dragging all those bags behind you.
Pack light.
They’ll only get in your way,
And make moving harder for you.
Mr. Bag man,
All you need is you.
Let me guide you to,
The new place designed for you.
Those bags will crowd you space.
Let go of them at a pace that works for you.
Mr. Bag Man,
Let go of those bags,
You’ll miss your bus like that.
If you can’t hurry up,
She’ll leave you at this stop,
with your stuff,
And you can’t miss this bus,
Another won’t wait for you.
It’ll be hard.
The past can hurt too much,
But let her love guide you.
Mr. Bag Man,
Let it go,
All you need is you,
And her love,
In this new place she’ll take you.
May 25, 2025
May 25, 2025 at 11:52 AM UTC
echoes of guilt cause
an avalanche of sorrow;
we’re buried alive.
Mar 9, 2025
Mar 9, 2025 at 7:24 AM UTC
As I stood there,
cleaning my closet,
In the middle of a bunch of lovely trinkets—
I realised, I had baggage.
A lot of it. It wasn’t just stuff.
It wasn’t just an old sweater,
—It was the smell of him.
And perhaps the lovely necklace
that reminded me of school—
Or the cutest folded letter I forgot
Someone gave me, years ago..
How could I let go?
But it was moving day.
Boxes weren’t that large to fit everything.
I had to choose.
Which ones would stay..
And which….
I had to let go.
Jan 16, 2025
Jan 16, 2025 at 3:13 AM UTC
Your self sabotage is a transient orchestration
in soft pursuit of a potent vexation,
juggling vices as a decade old
one trick pony
circling pastures to meet itself
in the middle of an argument;
You’ll dawdle in the toy aisle,
linger in the doorway,
and parse the wounds of
a family member standing afield;
It could end when you let it,
yet the turmoils have you rattled
like a baby shower gift
presented in glass,
refracting sandy memories
that turned to pleas by a
roadside marquee;
Lone hotel escapades
with uncertainties
set sights on useful
youthful hastenings
brigaded into shoe boxes,
skipped lunches,
and a forgotten birthday
and ripple harm into a harmful world
while we reel at the
second hand trauma
which announces your presence;
The countless open-minded scars
that set you apart
can consume all but echoes,
reminiscent of muddy punk tunes
appearing out of thick air
and plucked with the vengeance
of a forsaken child
who never had enough candles to
blow out,
who conceded happiness to pollinate
fall out,
who branched into nothing to escape
burn out
and who stitched longings into trials
that all end with the conviction
of a jealous ghost
Jan 14, 2025
Jan 14, 2025 at 12:12 AM UTC
Forget the book and candle.
The creaking comes with age.
You know those rattling panes
are taunted by branches left
uncut by you in lazy summer.
Do not lock the door and run.
Ghosts are particular. Always
with us, they thrive in three-ply
boxes, and in packed suitcases.
When you are ready, they are too.
Tony Noon
Jan 11, 2025
Jan 11, 2025 at 4:09 PM UTC
In my beginning some thing created this purposeless mess that stands before you
Knowing my best would never be enough and still pushed me through like some kind of fuuck you
To who?
To the future me, to the tragedy I'd become ultimately?
That's a ridiculously high baggage fee
Especially for baggage bestowed upon me
If there's nothing he can't do then none of this is how it had to be
But nooooo,
He had to go and put in that god ****** fruit tree
©2024
Apr 17, 2024
Apr 17, 2024 at 4:16 PM UTC
I should probably introduce myself
My name is Anyone Else
It'd be more than obvious to state I'm a mess
Even though I do try my best
Well, maybe not every time
But I toe the line
I'm not sure it's the right one
Can't know that 'till my times done
Attempted some revision to the predestined
Tried to storyboard my own end
Frankly, I couldn't manage
My baggages baggage had to much baggage
Overwhelmed seamlessly flipped to defeated
A weak will finally and now fully depleted
Note beforehand, this is beyond making a statement
My name is actually, probably, most likely, irrelevant
Knowing me will only be watching me come and go
That's best case scenario
©2024
Mar 10, 2024
Mar 10, 2024 at 5:57 PM UTC
I wanted you to know
Not from anger or spite
Just a sort of insight
A slight glimpse into
My shadowed side
But I'm afraid you can't hold
They are really harsh, crude and snide
I never would lie to you
But you'd cry if you knew
What life has been like
From my point of view
The hurt the fear
I never would lie to you
But you'd cry if you knew
What life has been like
From my point of view
The hurt the fear
The past that's so near
Memories so clear
They felt like yesterday
It seems never ending no matter how I pray
I struggle, I fall, I stand again.
There's just no end to how much I've got to pay
You say, you're sorry
Misunderstood me;
But no, seriously
It's not your fault truly.
I wanted to change
For the better, if only
It's just too late
I'm doomed
That's my fate
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 12:48 AM UTC
Let **** go,
You can't see the world
If you're carrying it on your shoulders
Aug 7, 2023
Aug 7, 2023 at 11:37 PM UTC
My arm is called the epic list
Displaying the anthems of my life
One by one
I've lived these moments
Heard the music loud and clear
These melodies will forever live
In the basement of my brain
Falling into the depth of my mind
I dig it up with my hand
Revealing the traffic
I'm addicted to the melancholy
No matter where I travel
We all carry a bag
I've lived these moments
Heard the music loud and clear
These melodies will forever live
In the basement of my brain
-AJT
Mar 13, 2023
Mar 13, 2023 at 9:34 PM UTC
My blessing came
in a designer gift wrap -
Karma.
The box made of Rejection.
filler sheets of many colors..
..Deceit
…Embarrassment
…..Betrayal
……Jealousy
layered on top
of some
crumpled shreds
of Self-doubt and Insecurity.
— had to tear through
some things to get
to the goods —
The best present I’ve ever gotten -
a whole new Heart;
with me forever to stay.
Solace in knowing
all the junk that came
before Her,
I get to throw away.
Nov 6, 2021
Nov 6, 2021 at 7:21 AM UTC
i live here on the bedrock
tunnel vision
it’s difficult to see
sometimes it’s just grey
there used to be easier ways to get out
before i became baggage
left behind, raided and rotting
a shell of what used to be there
Jul 31, 2021
Jul 31, 2021 at 6:47 PM UTC
you turn to me but i'm not there
i'm drowning
i told you but you couldn't listen
the thoughts won't make sense
none are clear
they're surrounding
encompassing and unnerving
if i take one last breath
would you notice the body
folded neatly
lying under the baggage
you placed on my back
i can no longer support myself
but you won't take the load
stuck inside your head
and i'm stuck with you
if i stop speaking
i'll stop breathing
so i'll carry on until my
fingers are shaking too much
from lack of oxygen
or sometimes too much
i can hear my breathing
speeding up faster
ready to take off and
fly away with what's left of
my soul and spirit
that you didn't crush
still going as i recognise
the dizzy daze i'm falling into
waiting to collapse in
on myself for maybe
the last time
for a while at least
we both know it won't happen
because of you
i couldn't however much you
argue and scream and shout
or maybe it's because of her
calming my mind
ok i have to stop now
i told you it would get too much
once again i say
i'm sorry
remember me
or the old me
if you can
it wasn't your fault
May 7, 2021
May 7, 2021 at 5:16 AM UTC
Its is long overdue
We have already wasted enough time
We have carried this weight, these baggage and so much emotional turmoil, for too long, it blinds us and hinders us
Making us uncomfortable, unacceptable, unable to grow, unable to see what needs to be removed from our lives and unable to overcome obstacles
But I am too afraid....
No, we are afraid to remove such a blindfold and such a hindrance
It seem almost impossible
Because these are things that I....
No, these are the things we treasurer the most.
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 11:46 AM UTC
Hindsight, hallowed be thy name.
All I've got is luggage... luggage!
My God! Turn around; find my comrades slumped under the weights strapped to their spine!
Limping, bearing, burdened by non-negotiables while the High Court of Good Karma takes collective sabbatical —
and this knapsack of shame, I've partial credit in filling.
Grey handkerchief, original sin:
one. single. suckerpunch. and my fists are raised forever,
begging for the chance to swing and prove my own strength
— supposing the opportunity never fell into my lap — I'd said **** it," packed a
hundred grams of bushy brushed-out curls, stop-sign red
fifty grams of lips to match (uniform too, now I think about it)
fifty grams of raccoon eyelids and coloured-in brows
hundred grams of halls of mirrors, circus-attraction Alice
lose a hundred/gain a hundred/repeat til dizzy
hundred grams of sucked-in stomach, eyes averted in changing rooms
wigs by the armful — that's three — nom-de-plumes thrown in gratis
(it's only a journey to the rest of my life anyway, I'll need them,
alternative being cinematic debut as Myself)
hundred performances to imaginary audiences, less-than-stellar reviews
hundred grams of overwhelming then underwhelming "on purpose"
hundred grams of laughing off any belief in potential
hundred grams of scratch-marks and verbal fountains of venom
hundred grams of giving almostneverquite as good as I got
hundred grams of group-work alone thank ****
hundred biro-holes stabbed in martyred pencil cases
feral in broad daylight spoiling for a fight
kilo of aiming for 'scary' and landing on 'strange'
kilo of being third to make good company a crowd
kilo of taking sixteen years to find Her
— Shadowboxer Fiona, rhythms invisible, catharsis in art —
hundred doodled superstitious evil-eyes in the ruled margins
hundred laments over the inability to provide a better future
(removed one by one whenever I think the future's mutable)
that one glimpse of white lightning in a violet storm
one single minute's pause to look over my shoulder
scarce-to-zero progress made
endless miles to go
breathless body soaked to the bone
and this useless! ******* bag! of Everything and nothing of value!!
mansions worth of loathing yet there's nothing to lose
did I decide that because I can't change the world, I can change nothing at all
(instead throwing darts at reflections/emotional vomit/kicking stray dogs as a full-time hobby)?
O clarity so saccharine that I cannot be angered by the wasted years
only because THERE ARE MORE TO COME
I take it
off my shoulder,
the first kind action I have spared myself in time unguessable
empty
the
contents...
really
air it out...
and trudge on
unaccompanied.
The world's enough of an uphill climb.
Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 5:47 PM UTC
stop carrying the
baggage of the past to an
unwritten future
6:31 PM
8/10/20
Oct 8, 2020
Oct 8, 2020 at 3:32 AM UTC
We met many many years back
When the realisation hit that I may need you
I met you at home and the street but as a vision
When my mum constantly reminded me to get you home
I rebelled and didn’t want to
I met you in my tears
When someone wanted you
More than me,
I met you in disdain
When I saw many who had you
But strutted around in false pride.
And I didn’t want you.
And here you are,
Many moons later,
Wherein I rediscovered you.
It was never you, it was the picture I painted.
I am getting closer to you now
Fresh canvas,
Wispy and comforting,
Uplifting like a kite 🪁 in the sky,
You’re blooming,
You smell fresh as a 🌹.
You’re “getting lighter”,
And to me now it is not my weight in body,
But the heaviness in my heart and mind,
That I am getting lighter with.
And as I do, I find you so comforting,
You were always my friend,
I didn’t see you
As people and my heaviness painted you as an enemy,
You’re my angel
And I know you better,
Getting closer to you,
Whispy, floating and free.
I like you lightness,
You’re me now.
You so want to come closer to me,
Constantly trying to invade my mind,
Tentacle my thoughts and dreams.
But hey I get you,
I am going to set you free.
Because now you’re inside of me
And my journey in the here and now is to be.
You’re sweet and I get you,
But sweetness is one flavour,
And I like it spicy and tangy as well,
A tad bitter, some more there,
So I’ll just set you free.
Now, I am free,
Whispy and floating,
Pink and sparkly,
Becoming me...
Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 12:25 PM UTC