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#intrusion
Intruding my mind as though it is your own domain My thoughts race until they are replaced by snapshots of your face I construct your essence in bits and pieces Exhaustive love, thoroughly reaching If I told you that I loved you, you would fade away We fear what we cannot comprehend I'll make space for you in my heart where you may lay Rest your precious soul at my feet And I will carefully wrap it, I will never stray
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Nov 4, 2025
Nov 4, 2025 at 3:53 PM UTC
I think I love you
it's not that I'm antisocial that I want to be alone or friends are an intrusion to my fragile state of mind it's just that I'm protecting you from the madness behind my eyes
0
May 19, 2023
May 19, 2023 at 2:30 PM UTC
antisocial
The phone rings, Or rather vibrates, As I stir my instant coffee Because my Keurig is broken And I haven’t gotten around to replacing it. The lady on the other end Of the call Says she’s with the bank. She’s selling identity theft protection subscriptions. I listen to her Explain What that is With mild excitement growing in my stomach; Not with regards to the Subscription, But over the Tones and intonations — The way she breathes: Softly, Warmly, Unconsciously. I let her run with it, Feigning curiosity at first. A question here, There, To really get her going. I wonder when she was last ****** She asks to verify my name, Address. She mentions a credit score package (Ooh la la) That will provide me with insight as to whether my identity has ever been Stolen. (This call Is getting steamy) She tells me that in order to receive the package I need to confirm my enrolment in the subscription. ‘What? Could you repeat that?’ I can feel it Tickling, Licking, My soul, As I sip my ****** instant coffee. I tell her That I absolutely won’t enrol, That I refuse, But that she should be a voice actor Or that if she was a voice option for Siri I would surely select her. She doesn’t have a response, Choosing to wish me a good evening instead, And to thank me on behalf of her employer. ‘No, Thank you dear. Call this number whenever you like. I don’t want your talents to go unappreciated by other customers Who I’m sure are all swines.’ Click. I stare at the ended call And fantasize about your voice, And when you were last ****** Too bad the coffee is ****
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Dec 5, 2019
Dec 5, 2019 at 10:14 PM UTC
A most enjoyable intrusion.
The phone rings, Or rather vibrates, As I stir my instant coffee Because my Keurig is broken And I haven’t gotten around to replacing it. The lady on the other end Of the call Says she’s with the bank. She’s selling identity theft protection subscriptions. I listen to her Explain What that is With mild excitement growing in my stomach; Not with regards to the Subscription, But over the Tones and intonations — The way she breathes: Softly, Warmly, Unconsciously. I let her run with it, Feigning curiosity at first. A question here, There, To really get her going. I wonder when she was last ****** She asks to verify my name, Address. She mentions a credit score package (Ooh la la) That will provide me with insight as to whether my identity has ever been Stolen. (This call Is getting steamy) She tells me that in order to receive the package I need to confirm my enrolment in the subscription. ‘What? Could you repeat that?’ I can feel it Tickling, Licking, My soul, As I sip my ****** instant coffee. I tell her That I absolutely won’t enrol, That I refuse, But that she should be a voice actor Or that if she was a voice option for Siri I would surely select her. She doesn’t have a response, Choosing to wish me a good evening instead, And to thank me on behalf of her employer. ‘No, Thank you dear. Call this number whenever you like. I don’t want your talents to go unappreciated by other customers Who I’m sure are all swines.’ Click. I stare at the ended call And fantasize about your voice, And when you were last ****** Too bad the coffee is ****
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“So good to be checked in on :)” <> so informed, I’m thinking, yes, I know, it is a spécialité de ma maison, checking in on far and dear, not so near, ones, periodically. ask myself why, and the answer comes easy, intrusion and extrusion. the pleasant shock of stumbling into an old friend, both stuck in the revolving door at Macys Herald Square, which is odd because it’s DECADES since I was there. there are many outposts on the poetry cables who have received this SOS, and the inevitable outcome is a new poem commissioned and perhaps, no admission, that’s the why and the wherefore surely so purely selfish. need a guide to help me pick apples and pumpkins, which is not in my wheelhouse of expertise, thinking you could give me a boost, so selfish, you see, picking up the pieces of fall(ing) and poem titles from, then for, friends. for you never know when and how well, cinnamon apple and pumpkin cream pie soothes the souls from home grown tumult, with hot tea. SOs, how ya doing? just checking in... <> 9/12/19
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Sep 12, 2019
Sep 12, 2019 at 4:58 PM UTC
“So good to be checked in on :)”
I wonder what you're doing Dwelling does not change how I feel It becomes extremely hard controlling Painful thoughts that won't let me heal Time is supposed to mend wounds I fear it's making them worse My overwhelming desire for you Has become the sweetest curse I wish for a pleasanter plague to punish Then we wouldn't be connected Been watching in silent observation To see if I end up rejected Tonight You are lying in bed Happy Be free of dark thoughts Do not be pulled by negative energy Memory you all but forgot Why do I coldly imagine what's on your mind? Sit and find no conclusion What you don't know is your image invades my brain Cannot tell if I love or hate the intrusion
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May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 6:52 AM UTC
In True Use One
The Home Owners Association Came by again today With open glares at The green crawling across my chestnut walls, Blocking out my view of Their pale tan plaster and Baby blue curtains. Fees clutched in hand Eviction notices in their prayers, They march up to a house, Existing outside of their domain, Bought by a grandfather And never sold to no developer. I watch with arms crossed As they step past tomato plants Whose fathers I planted with mine long ago. Pleasantries exchanged Mean nothing combined with Cold eyes on me as I politely tell them that their nobility Has no jurisdiction. Later when, One let’s his dog dig up Pieces of my lawn-less garden, I stare from my curtain of leaves At exposed roots, The veins of a child’s loss reaching into air. Tears will do no more than moisten the corners As I walk outside Camera in hand Staring at a man Who slowly droops While shame dribbles back into his eyes. Nothing is said, Even when he turns and quietly walks away, Leash held slack in hand And dog loyally trailing behind.
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Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC
Suburban Freedom
Be it a dead silent dark night, With the clock counting dead hour. Or a walk through a chaotic lane With the people busy in chitter-chatter. My thoughts have completely been absorbed By the warmth, and everything that is him. My mind has gone wild. It doesn't stop dreaming and thinking. I wish I could post my senses to an eternal rest Because it's beautiful and exhausting. Gleeful and yet hurting.
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Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 9:57 AM UTC
A fanciful intrusion
You were every fantasy I imagined Inside my head, perfect intrusion Don't want to lose these childish hopes Can't hold a man who's an illusion. Let me sleep, be at peace Worry will come when I wake Contol over urges is weak at best Drawn to the people who bring me heartache. Of the dreams I've sacrificed The hardest to lose is the future we planned Promised myself I'd mature and grow Reasons took time to understand. What happened to nightly conversations? Once was my favorite part of each day My heart torn in two directions I foresee danger either way. How do I choose which way to head? Stuck thoughts which cost me sleep Try to stop them with mental blocks Over the hurdles hours leap. Feels like you're always lurking in the shadows Where your memory burns like fire In false promises identity is revealed Lost in a maze of sweet desire. The human in front of me Does not match the image in my mind Seems you've grown roots hidden in my brain Not as simple as it sounds to leave you behind.
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Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
Perfect Intrusion
I wonder if it is the divine right for a king not to apologize. A king resting in his glory hole, Savagely ripping apart his council, Smashing fortifications to the ground in spite. Some view his kingdom a paradise on the outside but within, Bricks of hell layer one another in heaps of hate and misconception, A queen bowing her head in dismay. Subjects fall without ease, Knights taking territory from every which way, The wrath of this king spread over territory not his. A reign that was not his own. To the king, his divine right lay with God but to his queen, His power lays within the dirt their subjects part each other from.
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Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 3:56 AM UTC
Divine Right
So we saunter up to each new prospect, slow and sly and seductive in our invitations. "Look at what made me this way. Wouldn't you like to see?" More and more until we've disrobed and dismantled ourselves to the absolute limits of our abilities (our willingness?). We repeat this display of sacred shedding until we finally elicit that awe-inducing look of "concerned understanding" - we complain that we are misinterpreted in Cassady fashion when we make no real efforts to be understood. "Care most about me." Let me mystify you with myths of me, perverse nursery rhymes lulling you into a slumber inside my skull from which you will wake with a start, demanding release from that citadel you so wished to infiltrate when it was your hands that needed warming.
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Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 1:44 AM UTC
Lug
*Rigid, my mind Tight fastened in thought Alone, save the loudest Of volumes you sought; A rhythm surrounds me: The beat never stops. My wrist – ever pounding Sleeve dripping, nonstop.* **These sounds are resources You’ll never see bought – So rare, and so special Yet, mine? They are not. “Gems?” You do ponder, As pure as could be. You hear not this beating? Live hearts seal my sleeve! I gathered each one From men and from lovers Then, left them undone To never recover These hearts I collect As one might a stamp, Each choking my wrist; All broken and damp As wet hearts do bleed Each torn from one’s chest The blood, you’ll not see It’s ink they express! “Now, why not your own?” You wonder, distressed But my chest is empty: Forlorn, dispossessed. My heart is no more – I searched sea to see. “How so?” You deplore. ‘Twas taken from me! In place of a heart I now hold a pen; I’ll never be whole – Likewise to all them: I **** all these lovers Must spare not these men For one sole ingredient Will satisfy pen. Such hearts I do mention Once, twice, and again Draw ribbons of ink, Gliding fresh to my pen** *Rigid, your mind Interrupting my thoughts Becoming the loudest Of volumes not sought “Release and replace!” A mere noise; you infest; Oh, leave me alone, Or your heart will be next!*
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Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 5:20 AM UTC
Hearts of Ink
Page and thought you avoid me still. Broken in soul we found no exit in bitter tears and a iron will. Not everything is crystal my dear. Do you remember the passion that was when you are no longer here? As we break to thrive . Monsters of the storm so empty to remain alive. Why question are words when thoughts were all we had . the asylum vacant still breathes of the lost and mad. Can you taste the rains embrace to speak it true maybe just for me? Thoughts lay heavy upon my thoughts. No matter my years the image I so clearly see. Wine that flowed now only is a bottles afterthought. Watch your step kids we seemed to have forgotten every lesson ever we were taught. And you as to me as we dance in regret and are washed clean. Hide the scar my dear we ****** a lifetime so perfectly wasted and obscene. I hold no remorse this delusion allows only for one to stay
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Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 2:09 AM UTC
Lost Ramblings
Little soul - are you satisfied? She's crying over him, He's leaving because of her, You're trying to keep him here, And he's struggling to breathe and nobody likes to face the truth And I should have answered the call and I should have Little soul little soul you're going too far He isn't yours to sweep into the pond Your eyes cannot see into the correct situation's panacea evening glow, oh! so pure and whole aeration of the dust-packed pores inside Little soul, Little soul - no. Don't go there Don't wander into - LITTLE SOUL! I saw you open the package before the allotted date styropeanuts, strewn cross't wooden paneled flooring white infinity symbols, floating in rusty red blood I told you the truth would set you free And I warned you what it would do Little soul. Little soul.
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Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
Little soul
The words caged within are not to be discussed. Our minds and hearts are heard and seen through these words, by the deafened and the blind. No one dares to intrude with caged words. If set free, they're personal and presumptuousness alluring.. The dilemma still unsolved.
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
Quotation Marks
Don't look into my soul; I didn't give you permission to.
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Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
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