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 Jul 2016 wichitarick
Alif Imran
Cloudy,
the sky is filled with heavily condensed water,
and birds flying away taking shelters,
and swaying long grass dancing,
whilst all I can hear is the loud sound of leaves blown by the wind,

No sun,
no shines,
clouds are marching,
soon, very soon,
waters gonna fall,

under the broken bus stop,
with broken rooftop and rusting metal,
I hold my small Carmine coloured umbrella
with the lush green leaves paint the background
the sky cried,
and the tears dropped onto my umbrella,
and millions more followed,

the tense smell of water mixing with the earth,
the smell of rain,
the smell of loneliness
perfectly captured by my friend, nature,
I stood there, looking upward
heavily cloud is darkening and darkening,

it is crying it most heavy downpour,
and all the nature too, silent,
and all the nature too are in deep grieve,
water is rising and drowning my feet,
the ambience is not creepy but tranquillizing
nature most expensive marijuana,

As cold as the ice,
clear like crystal,
so pure, so wild,
the heavenly droplets,

I stood so long at the bus stop,
waiting for the one bus that never arrived,
my feet were numb and start to sore,
move on,
move on,
so I let the rain washed away my uncertainty,

I took the first step,
of my agonizing journey,
through the deserted road,
whilst the rampaging storm is abusing me,
I decide to lose my umbrella to the wind,
and learn how to dance in the rain,

After a storm comes a rainbow,
the saying goes,
I believe in those,
cheap and cheezy echoes,

Rain or shine,
I am fond of them all,
nature is wild
wild is good
good for my unsettling soul,

so let's dance,
dance in this cold unbearable blizzard of rain,
of feelings,
let the healing begin,
aren't we all need healing?
It's nights like this
That I remember there's
Tinted glass
Between us.
Our lives
Our worlds
Go through a filter
Before touching each other.

It's nights like this
I rememer that I'm the one
Banging on the glass
And screaming your name,
But either you can't hear me,
Or you
Don't
Want to.

Sometimes you glance up
And I ask myself
'What does that look mean?'
Or I internally shriek
'He actually sees me'

I've spent I don't know how long
At this point,
I've lost track,
Desperately trying
To get your attention.

I want to tell you.

I want to walk miles
And miles
To you,
And yell everything
I've never understood about you
And demand answers.
But that's selfish.

Right now it'd be selfish of me
To voice
What is going wrong,
And that reminds me
How trapped I am.

On the other side
Of tinted glass
 Jul 2016 wichitarick
Corvus
Spending a month in a hospital teaches you a lot about people.
The doctor that told me to shave my head or she wouldn't treat me,
The nurses that spent forever chatting to me
And giving me supportive advice about how my illness doesn't define me.
The woman who was given a terminal cancer sentence
And chose not to pay attention to it and defied it anyway.
How she sat next to me on my bed,
Told me that all suffering is valid,
And just because I'm not dying, doesn't mean I don't get to complain.
How she complains more about her skin problems
Than she ever complained about her cancer,
And that's OK, because pain rarely follows rules.
I never even learned her name,
But she gave me the words I hold most closely to me
On those days when I want to fall asleep and never wake up.
I'm allowed to scream and shout and rage against the pain
And the unfairness of it happening to me.
I just have to make sure I know where the line is
Between giving my darkness a voice and pitying myself.
feeling trapped is a constant
it comes in sweeping waves that engulf my very world—
i struggle to keep my head above the suffocating surf that is my mind
i try to find solace in the ceasing seas of assailment—
for in that moment my battered soul will know relief

relief, however, is a funny thing*
it comes in deluding dewdrops of temporary bliss—
i admire the enticing beauty that is brought to me if only for the moment
i try to ignore the crystal-clear reflection that is my perennial hesitancy—
for in that moment my composure evaporates beneath the afternoon sun


-hcd
i am very tired
 Jun 2016 wichitarick
Beleif
Feeling down?
There's one way out.
Inclusion will bring you back to life.
You will never break apart,
Now consume like the rest. Be like the rest.
In exchange for your life force, you will be given the best.
In a brief moment you will be presented with supplements.
Take all that you want until your smile returns.
Wash them down with coffee and alcohol,
And show everyone that your smile's returned.
Now you can resume your desires and functions,
And remain happy... like everyone else...
Human.
Part two of THE MEDIOCRITY MACHINE

When pain is hidden underneath...
One will never feel complete.
They'll never tear the masks they wear.
Show them their home inside,
But they won't recognize it as their own.
 Jun 2016 wichitarick
The Mellon
There are some things I have wanted to say.
Stories I've wanted to tell

I wanted to tell you how the moon, on that special lunar occasion,
How it is red not because of the blood moon,
Rather because it is the reflection of a thousand sunsets all on one canvas.

Or I could tell you about that old lady I saw on the street the other day

How the wrinkles on her ***** hands matched that on her torn shirt.
How those wrinkles looked like waving rows of wheat to the bread she'll never eat

I could talk about the sunset!
Oh the sunset!
How the last ray of sun light is like that of the love of an old man who watched his wife of fifty years fall from cancer.
How even though his light is gone, he can still see her image refracted on the horizon, as if one last kiss to the world

I could talk about the young girl down the block,
The one who people call "fake" because she covers her face in foundation,
The same face her boyfriend left bruised and swollen.

I can talk about the girl I saw on my walk today.
The one who flinched every time her father raised his hand,
The one that wasn't holding his beer of course.

I could talk about sunsets.
I could talk about the beauty of the moon.
I could talk about a lot of things.

I could talk about poverty
I could talk about abuse or ****
I could talk about a lot of things

Society dictates that I should talk about the good things
I should talk about the sunset, and the butterflies
Oh! The butterflies!

Society is a lot like a butterfly
Its beautiful,
Free,
Alive

But society has heavy problems

Ones that "can't be talked about"

The weight of these problems will rip the wings from a butterfly.
Leaving it to fall to the Earth

Earth, where it will be forgotten
It will be stamped upon
It will be ignored

Until one day it dies
Until it's suddenly a tragedy,

What a pity
Twisted sound in the morning light,wish i had home,sleeping in a pillow tight.
But it is gone with the dusty night,sleeping voices are lost in fight.
What are those burning eyes,crying of pain and full of lies?Am I loosing my faith in love?Do I start to forget you,Love?Only silence fills my soul,cuz it must.
The knife was you,the holes are the dead feelings.You killed it all,I try to find anything but it just ain't givin.
A new angel stole my heart,he replaced your soul...I feel his burning skin and flesh inside..
Inside they fill me every night.What is wrong,I don't know.Without a reason I stopped loving you somehow.
This angel did not love me-he can only own me.His heart was so frozen..I told him I love him,but he just smiled and left the words unspoken.You,dark,mysterious shadows,felt in a dark hole.
Are you there?No,you're not.You escaped from my heart.Once and for all I built the wall between our guilt,and now we sink in silence..
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