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#daze
Birds used to be dinosaurs humans used to be monkeys things are moving fast The world’s conspiring to endow me with agency. Are we sure this is the right decision? They have us in dissections and anatomy labs, microscopy in histology and simulations in clinical skills. Professors are saying things like, “in preparation for your hospital rotations.” Shut up! Stop this runaway train. Seriously, slow down. Here’s a peek inside my brain - a typical med-school weekday: 5am wake, coffee, organize my bookbag. 5:30-6:45 jog (with my escort Charles) 6:45-7:10 a shower and stuff 7:10-7:30 breakfast, toast with coffee 7:30-8:00 homework review with coffee 8:00-8:30 commute with coffee (maybe write a poem?) 8:30 AM to 5–6 PM, classes, blending lectures, small-group sessions, tutorial and practical labs and self-study. 6:30 Arrive back home, disheveled, for 1 hour of study with coffee, a shower and stuff (maybe write a poem?). 8pm dinner and coffee 8:30-11:30 ‘Méthode des J’ (recall injection studies) and coffee Rinse and repeat, Monday through Thursday. Forgive the data dump, but I’ve been asked My watch is so judgemental It’s been giving me low sleep scores (low 40s). I fall asleep quickly and sleep softly until.. Argh!! Who set that f-ing alarm? . . Songs for this: One Two Three - Hooverphonic Chain Gang by the pretenders
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Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 11:30 AM UTC
these days
I recall my school daze like yesterday, Am so glad those times have gone away The memories have Faded, and gone astray, My life was tough, and the skies were gray. I was very good student, and I did my best, didn't have many friends, but I did not fret. I was a loner sometimes, but that's okay, Just recalling old thoughts from my ole school daze!!!! B.R. Date: 08/21/2023
0
Nov 20, 2024
Nov 20, 2024 at 5:55 PM UTC
Them Ole School Daze
just woke up so late, what do i eat sleep wasn’t deep.
0
Sep 7, 2024
Sep 7, 2024 at 11:20 PM UTC
sunday morning
We were scraped hands we were exhaustion showing through; we were messy hair after naps all to prove we loved how we lived and we lived how we loved but then - we grew up and minutes turned to seconds, and weeks turned to days and soon enough there we were grown ups, in a daze. time moving faster than it ever did before every day, suddenly a bore. thinking more from the core don't know how we ever swore this world would never turn us stone turn into all the things we say we won't waiting to see if the bad would outweigh hope. never thought being a grown up would be tough, then we grew up and we've had enough.
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Jun 29, 2023
Jun 29, 2023 at 9:43 PM UTC
Scraped Hands
we spent our summers in a daze made up of sugarcane and promises lost in the wind the heat soared above us, free and untamed we didn’t ***** our fingers on the thorns we swung till the sun pierced our skin sunburnt and snakelike peeling specimens we danced in the ashes, a feasible effort baked in our button-ups, American flag wielders, Jesus lovers half deceased in a pile of audacity dresses on girls with the actual embodiment of the word we were outright outliers on the brink of independence we were broken, but we felt like stained glass a beautiful portrait of veneration they showed our faces to the president and he sighed with relief some days we laughed until we got sore under water fountains and jet blue skies that made us forget our melancholy and sometimes we swore we would never speak again the sun was burning holes in our soles we breathed in the smoke, it felt holy in my lungs we regretted to regret if we would ever lose this charm but i guess we all figure out, you have to pretend until you’re gone we were still indigo sparks in the Fourth of July sky at midnight we saw the statue as it beamed for opportunity and we smiled back in common courtesy i even showed my teeth in the summer we were folk songs word of mouth enchantresses flying high above the canopy we remember when the piano started to weep the sweat on our brows used to slide down our cheeks for sore eyes they would’ve looked like teardrops though time has passed through a narrow mindset i still remember how the roads got wet on a Saturday morning and the sprinklers quit because their jobs were fleeing it’s crazy she’s dead now summer dreams only fade we lost the look in our beady eyes i missed the last train to freedom hearing my name be called by you was like having my heart ripped out in front of me but for summer she doesn’t recall such a memory i would’ve loved to hold your sweaty red hand for the last time knowingly as the season set and invited the breeze for now it’s just like a reverie a hazy afterthought splitting through the atmosphere like a comet it wasn’t glory, it was gory the summer sunset stuck in our frizzy hair we lost the feeling we chased for so long behind an alley that smelled of redemption and cinnamon an island lost in legend a girl with loose intentions whose fists fight hyperbolic battles sweaty recollections of a faint moment in space   a storm weathers forgiveness is flowering in my palms and we used to be so good at that
0
May 31, 2023
May 31, 2023 at 11:21 AM UTC
equinox
we spent our summers in a daze made up of sugarcane and promises lost in the wind the heat soared above us, free and untamed we didn’t ***** our fingers on the thorns we swung till the sun pierced our skin sunburnt and snakelike peeling specimens we danced in the ashes, a feasible effort baked in our button-ups, American flag wielders, Jesus lovers half deceased in a pile of audacity dresses on girls with the actual embodiment of the word we were outright outliers on the brink of independence we were broken, but we felt like stained glass a beautiful portrait of veneration they showed our faces to the president and he sighed with relief some days we laughed until we got sore under water fountains and jet blue skies that made us forget our melancholy and sometimes we swore we would never speak again the sun was burning holes in our soles we breathed in the smoke, it felt holy in my lungs we regretted to regret if we would ever lose this charm but i guess we all figure out, you have to pretend until you’re gone we were still indigo sparks in the Fourth of July sky at midnight we saw the statue as it beamed for opportunity and we smiled back in common courtesy i even showed my teeth in the summer we were folk songs word of mouth enchantresses flying high above the canopy we remember when the piano started to weep the sweat on our brows used to slide down our cheeks for sore eyes they would’ve looked like teardrops though time has passed through a narrow mindset i still remember how the roads got wet on a Saturday morning and the sprinklers quit because their jobs were fleeing it’s crazy she’s dead now summer dreams only fade we lost the look in our beady eyes i missed the last train to freedom hearing my name be called by you was like having my heart ripped out in front of me but for summer she doesn’t recall such a memory i would’ve loved to hold your sweaty red hand for the last time knowingly as the season set and invited the breeze for now it’s just like a reverie a hazy afterthought splitting through the atmosphere like a comet it wasn’t glory, it was gory the summer sunset stuck in our frizzy hair we lost the feeling we chased for so long behind an alley that smelled of redemption and cinnamon an island lost in legend a girl with loose intentions whose fists fight hyperbolic battles sweaty recollections of a faint moment in space   a storm weathers forgiveness is flowering in my palms and we used to be so good at that
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58
As you breathe out I **** in Wondering Where all my life have you been?
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May 18, 2021
May 18, 2021 at 2:31 AM UTC
Smoke
They woke up in another world Feeling like they were in a daze Everything around them Moving a little slower Their veins dilated Making their blood flowing quietly Their muscles light as feathers Making them wanna float Their conversations about everything Yet nothing Their laughter echoing across the water The heat of the fire tickling their skin Goosebumps Appearing They were high On love An experience They never ever wanted to end
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May 13, 2020
May 13, 2020 at 11:12 AM UTC
High on love
They shall say of 2020, when it's done nobody forgets a year like that one, this one, with you in it, never been one like it, fractally speaking, on this scale of perception. The demographic target of Covid 19, and I share periences from some years sortalike this,  like 1961, but that isn't global, that was national, the summer, mostly, then 1963, the fall, those days got global, a bit, 1969, the autumn, 1970, the spring, and all those tied in to now by way of psychedelia, and post war blues odyssey of a sort, walking to Chicago scheduled, through the October Moratorium, burlap sack of peyote Wuwuchin season, then Earth Day 1, in San Jose, half a time, half a year in men's measure, those days were more cosmic than global...when I consider I knew the way, that far, at that time, those were strange days; then I disappeared. Now, I reappear, just to say, the way I got here, got me this far, but as Granny Cook, from the original Angelus Temple amen corner, click, she said " we all need discernment", then Job called for a referee ee ee ance refer to Voltaire - define your terms .. dis cern the terms of our agreement, reader. This map leads here. 2020 April, it is a meme forming link in the evolution of the global brain holding AI accountable for each idle word, every good nobody got, give it again, doit doit now, we missed. Hamartia, ha, try umph, and we are rolling once more right past confused Camus. 1954. These are the last old days, new ones are emerging, after all we know finishes shifiting into next before our seeing eyes.
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Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 4:22 PM UTC
These are the last old days, for old people, like me
They shall say of 2020, when it's done nobody forgets a year like that one, this one, with you in it, never been one like it, fractally speaking, on this scale of perception. The demographic target of Covid 19, and I share periences from some years sortalike this,  like 1961, but that isn't global, that was national, the summer, mostly, then 1963, the fall, those days got global, a bit, 1969, the autumn, 1970, the spring, and all those tied in to now by way of psychedelia, and post war blues odyssey of a sort, walking to Chicago scheduled, through the October Moratorium, burlap sack of peyote Wuwuchin season, then Earth Day 1, in San Jose, half a time, half a year in men's measure, those days were more cosmic than global...when I consider I knew the way, that far, at that time, those were strange days; then I disappeared. Now, I reappear, just to say, the way I got here, got me this far, but as Granny Cook, from the original Angelus Temple amen corner, click, she said " we all need discernment", then Job called for a referee ee ee ance refer to Voltaire - define your terms .. dis cern the terms of our agreement, reader. This map leads here. 2020 April, it is a meme forming link in the evolution of the global brain holding AI accountable for each idle word, every good nobody got, give it again, doit doit now, we missed. Hamartia, ha, try umph, and we are rolling once more right past confused Camus. 1954. These are the last old days, new ones are emerging, after all we know finishes shifiting into next before our seeing eyes.
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39
i took off into an unknown place two lane roads fade into a daze the earth is painted with rust and grey my face is fresh without clay the freckles take up the spaces where your finger tips once laid and the wild flowers be me to stay
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Jan 9, 2020
Jan 9, 2020 at 1:45 PM UTC
tangerine
That moment when you’re somewhere between sleep and awake. That moment on a roller coaster as you drop at almost a 90° angle and your adrenaline surges. Your favorite song on the radio in the summer, when your windows are down and you’re singing along. The warmth and comfort that envelops you as you snuggle into bed. A sunrise. The moon rise. The galaxy of stars on a clear night in your small home town. All of these things and feelings You are every one of them, combined.
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May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 4:00 AM UTC
You are every good thing
The days seem longer When hands remain idle When thoughts are empty When goals aren't present When phones aren't ringing When clocks are creeping When the sun is inching But that gives plenty of time to run away to day dreams.
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Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 7:14 PM UTC
The Daze
He crawled from his van Hair slicked back like the wind had grabbed it and never let go "What's up man?" His voice was shrill, and scratchy Like a villainous rat from an animated movie The sound of it honestly sent me into a daze Trying to comprehend his existence He'd carved himself a niche Cleaning the carpets at this lackluster apartment community I listened anxiously as he spoke to the other maintenance guy beside me Although my time at this property was short, I learned of Candido's way.
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Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 12:00 AM UTC
Candido's Way
perfectly poised, i paint poignant statures alive yet devoid, an entrancing actor diamonds and daggers i dazzled through a circus girl's cunning, but a heart beats true pirouette, ball change, waltz and twirl singsong silly circus girl my heart is heavy but i cannot weep my eyes are closed but i never sleep.
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Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 9:39 PM UTC
singsong silly circus girl
i am a blade tucked safely in Tupperware my lonely teeth hidden under clammy pillow feel these nightmares like they were yours i could blush with you all night when my mouth feels dry it is not from the absence of presence but from the rotundity cascade that your hair ebbs as it collides with mine i'd like to think this folly is something i can put on the centerfold a gift too pronounced with an utter of my masked gravity inside all the beer you pour into a proud papercup days shrink into nothingness
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May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 1:06 AM UTC
orange fanta
though thine wife gladly (and long time ago) verily swept passed her final child bearing year this house broken husband genuinely hankers to father (yes sire re:to set sea men "NOT FAKE," nor NONGMO free and reduced) and longingly participate in parenthood again donning baby proof couture wear analogous (as aye imagine dragons fire breathing worth tolerating), those who fervently veer yearning to undergo *** reassignment surgery (SRS) with unintentional surgeon's delicate tear aye thru thoroughly anesthetized flesh, (especially genitals under going transformational substantial removal via said - bravely bite ting the bullet - sharp pinching shear) contemplating, formulating, issuing personal specifications to cutting crew validating, testifying recapping re: questing genitals do not reappear since significant surgery purport, some hetero ****** person might **** sitter queer yet no doubt a homosexual and/or lesbian would ap pear to understand completely if ***** didst unwittingly accidentally overhear confidential conversation, yet warmly reassured the speaker, they did not intend to get near enough to glean enough information that said transexual could reduce wardrobe with women and/or menswear and this once distraught, distressed, and distributed without willingness unfairly fated to live stemmed, undoubtedly wrought from ****** misalignment, would post surgery hover off the ground and modestly swagger off into the sunset (this scenario projection strictly of mine) anyway ***** could map out in one direction destiny describing, an upswinging trajectory linear once future freed where gender now nsync with physical gonadal accouterment unconcerned if urge arises to swivel derriere with flare. ------------------------------------- matthew scott highland manor apartments schwenksville, pennsylvania 19473 USA
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Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
to sire with love
though thine wife gladly (and long time ago) verily swept passed her final child bearing year this house broken husband genuinely hankers to father (yes sire re:to set sea men "NOT FAKE," nor NONGMO free and reduced) and longingly participate in parenthood again donning baby proof couture wear analogous (as aye imagine dragons fire breathing worth tolerating), those who fervently veer yearning to undergo *** reassignment surgery (SRS) with unintentional surgeon's delicate tear aye thru thoroughly anesthetized flesh, (especially genitals under going transformational substantial removal via said - bravely bite ting the bullet - sharp pinching shear) contemplating, formulating, issuing personal specifications to cutting crew validating, testifying recapping re: questing genitals do not reappear since significant surgery purport, some hetero ****** person might **** sitter queer yet no doubt a homosexual and/or lesbian would ap pear to understand completely if ***** didst unwittingly accidentally overhear confidential conversation, yet warmly reassured the speaker, they did not intend to get near enough to glean enough information that said transexual could reduce wardrobe with women and/or menswear and this once distraught, distressed, and distributed without willingness unfairly fated to live stemmed, undoubtedly wrought from ****** misalignment, would post surgery hover off the ground and modestly swagger off into the sunset (this scenario projection strictly of mine) anyway ***** could map out in one direction destiny describing, an upswinging trajectory linear once future freed where gender now nsync with physical gonadal accouterment unconcerned if urge arises to swivel derriere with flare. ------------------------------------- matthew scott highland manor apartments schwenksville, pennsylvania 19473 USA
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61
she held all my passion what does that even mean ? ... .. .
0
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC
Untitled
Eyes daze, pseudo-malaise, The soft lament of wasted days. Whatever needs be done be done, As long as none insist on clearing My veiling haze. Dim those lights, turn down the sounds My mind becomes crowded, Elbows bruising. The further pushed from, The deeper pushed in. Raised voices and wagging fingers Have no effect but a Deeper shove to the depths. Firm hands held haughtily between strangers A meeting with the spirit lost To the deep end of the well, The cracks in bone show age
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Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
Veil
dandelions dueces dancing delicacy descending demonstration demonstrating demonstrations double dealing darlings dieing death did die do dueces dandelions ? ... .. .
0
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC
dueces dandelions
When the haze wears off and you come back to reality, your senses no longer heightened  return to the dull.   And you look at yourself like who am I now that I was not before? Return to the haze where everything felt OK kiss the sky dance with the breeze write poetry feel everything that the “normal” you can not see Live,love and get lost be wild Be free lost in the haze
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Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 10:54 PM UTC
Lost in a haze
Awake , but sleeping away Sleeping as the world changes its way, Awake but in hazy daze Hardly it had been days Spinning in strays Time slows to erupt a new end and hasty beginning in space Collapsing the top base all the thought phase The colours back in greys Bottom is the only that stays and my eyes starts to droop again To wake in new land another day in new surround , new belief circle slowly reaching the same end someday
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Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 1:55 PM UTC
Sleepy awake
I slip and fall, behold the water all around, this daze, the overlit tiny space, hospital, looking at me, doctors piercing gaze. This is it! I feel their needles pierce my side, fill me with that which will put out my lights. I scream and in a rush they tilt my head back and let the pills go down my throat. I was the one who got myself trapped by this modern castle moat. Should have known better, but still I cry, this is it, I'll set fire to the skies, and no one will ever again sing me sterile lullabies! *Tick Tock Clock Years Fears Covered the empty bed sheets Tears Vague memories burned into my skull Like a flashing bulb **** All pain is gone The chills Spills Backwards Slipping into a near coma From my FREE drug induced state Speeding heart rate, and yet you, Sifting through bottles For that one last pill To free your cowardly self From having any free will.*
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Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 9:58 PM UTC
Sapphire Skies-Lullabies
her lips, of blooming poppy, hold promises of ***** slipping past the choices, knowing they'd be caught too late, and not before they've met desires secretly in shadows underneath the moonlit balconies
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Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 3:07 AM UTC
Secret Recipe
he took my breath away with none but one gaze exposing my scattered brain a memory clear but a haze i saw him in hindsight yet i was still stuck in a daze to count how many times i lost myself in so many ways and like fog he quickly faded leaving me alone in the chase i almost caught him but i missed despite focusing on his face
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Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 11:58 AM UTC
softened sight