#cabinfever - Hello Poetry

see through hardened panes watching nature's ebb and flow inside out snow globe

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Oct 1, 2020

Oct 1, 2020 at 8:43 PM UTC

crabapple

Haiku 5: Panes

see through hardened panes watching nature's ebb and flow inside out snow globe

3

It's funny. If there was one thing people could agree on, It's that we didn't have enough time. But now that we have all the time In the world, we're slowly losing our minds

0

Mar 30, 2020

Mar 30, 2020 at 6:32 PM UTC

zackripley

Cabin fever

It's funny. If there was one thing people could agree on, It's that we didn't have enough time. But now that we have all the time In the world, we're slowly losing our minds

7

There’s something so hopeful about a pitch black sky— the kind of deep and ominous nothing that couldn’t care less about your renewed sunrise and clean slated second chances. There’s a calm in that darkness that I **** up in one breath. I hold it there, in my swollen lungs, until I go a purple fit for her majesty, and any specks of light that catch my eye tessellate and turn and repeat. This world becomes a slow song caught in a kaleidoscope, and I’m dancing, happily, happily alone.

0

Mar 3, 2016

Mar 3, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC

bforshort

take me to a place where buildings don't grow

There’s something so hopeful about a pitch black sky— the kind of deep and ominous nothing that couldn’t care less about your renewed sunrise and clean slated second chances. There’s a calm in that darkness that I **** up in one breath. I hold it there, in my swollen lungs, until I go a purple fit for her majesty, and any specks of light that catch my eye tessellate and turn and repeat. This world becomes a slow song caught in a kaleidoscope, and I’m dancing, happily, happily alone.

17

Rigid spine, a creeping spider shuffling through the mental aisles. Sight aloft, aghast, a ceiling. Cast away in one’s own chamber. Preacher’s preaches drown in water, leagues below my iron bedstead.

0

Nov 14, 2014

Nov 14, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC

mj-lm

Bedridden

Rigid spine, a creeping spider shuffling through the mental aisles. Sight aloft, aghast, a ceiling. Cast away in one’s own chamber. Preacher’s preaches drown in water, leagues below my iron bedstead.

11