Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
when self-inflicted
or as counter,
the adrenaline is missing;
mind you the hara-kiri:

the sudden thrill,
                    the sudden attack!
it paces the heart differently
from a belief in a self...
the heart paces differently,
it's an entire revisionist sub-plot
of the book of genesis;
it almost makes Dante pigeon-****.
that's the problem with suicide
it's hardly adrenaline ensured
surprising, the predestination of it
being all top surprising as motivational
to provide us a new Cain of the future...
rightfully i'd rather be stunned
into a shock of adrenaline by a murderer,
than by injection of overpowering myself:
the adrenaline missing in suicide
is the real philosophical issue...
the adrenaline missing due to premonition,
the lack of shock... suicide in philosophical
debate is pure chemistry:
to commit suicide is to devolve chemically
without the required boiling points or infusions
of: suddenly.
Emily Oct 2018
What would you do for adrenaline?

Speed along uneven country roads,
Aim just right for that special ****,
Fly upward unexpectedly,
Drop back down with a thump?

Sweat in a long queue,
Strap oneself in tight,
Fly up and spin around,
Drop to earth from a great height?

Hop on an airplane,
Wear a parachute,
Jump bravely,
Create a new route?

The great lengths some will go,
Simply for a rush of adrenaline,

But what would you do for adrenaline from these?

Misplacing a wallet,
Racing to its last known location,
Discovering a stranger took it,
Wondering if it will ever return home?

Driving placidly along,
Stopping abruptly,
Missing by an inch a hit headlong,
Hoping the car behind will stop?

Why pay hundreds to risk life and limb by diving through the sky, yet do anything to keep one’s wallet?

Both produce adrenaline;
one for free with no risk of life and limb, yet it’s the riskier one,
that’s sought even at great cost!

Perhaps it’s because:
adrenaline is best enjoyed when expected?
What do you think? Is my theory valid?
In between   (a poem)
.
my mind struggles against its own illusion
nightmare tumbles out into still morning
light is heavy,
a fog of echoes...
and I am caught
.
day dreams the sunlight
dreams light the day
and I am caught in between
mourning echoes...
like a stillborn ghost
who can't take a breath in the present

….
  
I live on a tropical island and just want to go surfing with my husband, but the nausea in the early morning as I try to eat  breakfast and drive with him to the beach is so uncomfortable.  Day after day it makes even surfing a chore, and I consider not going anymore.  Background anxiety and unreasonable irritation interferes with our marriage, frustrates him enough to want me out.  

For me, a trip to the grocery store or meeting a group of people awakens the same dreadful fear as rockclimbing a cliff. Perspective has been lost in the extremes.  I try to gain some control over this hindering nuisance, seeking situations that bring the same surges of adrenaline so I can learn to master it.  If I can just push past the avoidance that would keep me inside doing nothing, if I can just ignore the feeling I want to throw up, if I can just get out there, I am rewarded with life’s potential beauty eventually.  Many days I do enjoy the thrill of mountain biking or connection with nature when surfing, but there are too many days of internal struggle that reduce what should be enjoyable to a relentless chore of wrestling inner demons.

The VA offers a few sessions of marriage counseling, and the doctor begins to explain PTSD.  ***, I’ve learned to cope with an unreliable brain, but now there’s this?  From what I understand (and that’s just me, an amateur philosopher) Sometimes the brain is so traumatized, that the memory is literally sealed off, encapsulated, protecting it from changing.  If later something happens that is similar, the brain triggers avoidance responses as a take-no-chances survival mechanism.  Literally the brain is protecting one’s self from one’s self.  This all-or-nothing strategy works fending off potential dinosaur attacks, but in our complex society, these automatic avoidance behaviors complicate functioning and well being.  Life becomes an attitude of constant reaction instead of motivated intention.

The website for the National center for PTSD says.  “After a trauma or life-threatening event, it is common to have reactions such as upsetting memories of the event, increased jumpiness, or trouble sleeping. If these reactions do not go away or if they get worse, you may have Posttraumatic Stress Disorder.”  

“Common reactions to trauma are:
• Fear or anxiety: In moments of danger, our bodies prepare to fight our enemy, flee the situation, or freeze in the hope that the danger will move past us. But those feelings of alertness may stay even after the danger has passed. You may:feel tense or afraid, be agitated and jumpy, feel on alert.  
• Sadness or depression: Sadness after a trauma may come from a sense of loss---of a loved one, of trust in the world, faith, or a previous way of life. You may:have crying spells, lose interest in things you used to enjoy, want to be alone all the time, feel tired, empty, and numb.  
• Guilt and shame: You may feel guilty that you did not do more to prevent the trauma. You may feel ashamed because during the trauma you acted in ways that you would not otherwise have done. You may:feel responsible for what happened, feel guilty because others were injured or killed and you survived.  
• Anger and irritability: Anger may result from feeling you have been unfairly treated. Anger can make you feel irritated and cause you to be easily set off. You may:lash out at your partner or spouse, have less patience with your children, overreact to small misunderstandings.  
• Behavior changes: You may act in unhealthy ways. You may:drink, use drugs, or smoke too much, drive aggressively, neglect your health, avoid certain people or situations.”   It lists four main symptoms: reliving the event, avoiding situations that remind of the event, feeling numb, and feeling keyed up (also called hyperarousal)”

Four words strung together: Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.  They’ve become a tired cliché, exhausted from the endless threat of random cruelty camouflaged in banality, weary of the weight shouldering back the wall that separates death and gore from the living.  Living was a reflex beyond willpower and devoid of choice. Control was self-deception.  The mind was so preoccupied with A: survival, B: sanity, in that order.  Rest was a cruel illusion.  The tank was drained, no room for emotions ditched.  Empathy took too much effort, fear was greedy.  Hopefully they can be remembered and found on the other side, if there is one.  Sleep deprived cells were left hyper-alert from the imminent, shot up and addicted to adrenaline.  Living was Fate and Chance, and meant leaving that time and place sealed in forgetfulness.  

Now PTSD is a worn out acronym, a cold shadow of what it feels like.  I try to think of something more personal that can describe the way it randomly visits me, now resigned to its familiar unwelcome influence.  It steals through my brain, flying ahead of me with its own agenda of protecting sabotage.  Its like the Guardian Trickster of Native American legend.  Its an archetype but real enough to make mistakes: Chulyen, the black raven.

A decade after the ER, contentment is found in a garden of slow tranquility as a butterfly interrupts a sunbeam.  My heart fills with bittersweet as I’ve finally found something I love and want to keep.  Just then Chulyen’s grasping black claws clamp my heart with painful arrhythmia and it fills to burst, tripping in panic trying to recover its pace.  The sudden pain drops me to my knees, in the dirt between fragrant lavender and cherry tomatoes.  Pain stops breath and time and makes me remember the ER, when my heart rebelled its ordained purpose for a week.  I had tried to throw my bitter life back in God’s face but He didn’t take it.  Now that I have peace and a life that I treasure, He’s taking it now.  The price for my mistake is due.  It was all just borrowed time and I’m still so young, my children just babies.  God with a flick of cruelty reminds me not to put faith in the tangible, especially when its treasured.  The sharp claws finally relent and I can breathe, looking up with a gasp and the Raven takes flight overhead leaving a shadow.  Bright noon warmth, unusually heavy and foreboding, seems to say ‘there will come a time when you will not welcome the sun.’   Doctors run an EKG and diagnose ‘stress’.

The bird perches on my shoulder two more decades later, always seeing death just over there.  So I sit on the porch just a little longer and check my list again, delaying the unavoidable racing heart and rush of tension when I fix the motorcycle helmet strap under my chin.  I know all those stupid drivers have my life in their cell-phone distracted hands and hope my husband knows how much I love him, and my daughters too.  

Chulyen wakes me at 3:00 am when autumn’s wind aggravates the trees.  His rustle of black feathers outside unsettles summer’s calm night.  He brings an end-of-the-world portent that hints this peace is just temporary, borrowed.  Tribulation will return.

Ravens are attracted to bright shiny things.  Chulyen steals off with treasures like intention, and contentment.  I don’t realize they are missing until occasionally I find myself truly living in the moment.  I guess that is another reason why I crave adventure, for those instants and epiphanies that snap me out of that long term modis operandi of reacting, instead of being.  The daily list of ‘I must, or I should’ can for a brief while become ‘I want’  and I am free.

My companion the black bird perches relaxed in the desert on the gatepost of a memory.  A bullet-scarred paint-faded sign dangles by one corner from rusty barbed wire:
    No Trespassing    
    That Means You
I have a haunted idea what's behind the fence.  Chulyen implies the memory with a simple mistaken sound:
a Harley in the distance is for a second the agitating echo of a helicopter...
or those were the very same words they said when...
or I hear a few jangling clinks of forks in our warm kitchen...
hinting a cold cafeteria at 5:00 am smelling of fake eggs and industrial maple flavored corn syrup,
and everything else that happened that day...
My cells recollect, brace with the addictive rush of adrenaline.  But the raven denies access to the memory, distracting with discomfort.  I trip and I fall hard into the gritty dirt of irritation at the person who unknowingly reminded me.  Anxiety floods in along with fatigue of the helplessness of it all, back then and still now.  I can't go further.  Chulyen’s tricking deception says Leave This Memory, you never wanted to come back.
But I already knew from just recognizing the bird patiently sitting there a sentinal,
recalling every other time he tricked me with nausea and depression.
I tried to tell myself again that behind that gate,
the past has dried up from neglect.
Disintegrated into dust,
Blown away,
doesn't
exist.



After everything else, how to work through this?  The VA gave me a manual, a crudely printed set of worksheets with a government-looking blue cover page:  Cognitive Processing Therapy.
“In normal recovery from PTSD symptioms, intrusion, thoughts, and emotions decrease over time and no longer trigger each other.  However, in those who don’t recover, the vivid images, negative thoughts, and strong emotions lead to escape and avoidance.  Avoidance prevents the processing of the trauma that is needed for recovery and works only temporarily.  The ultimate goal is acceptance.  
There may be “stuck points”, conflicting beliefs or strong negative beliefs that create additional unpleasant emotions and unhealthy behavior.  For example, a prior belief may have been “ I am able to protect myself in dangerous situations.”  But after being harmed during military service, a conflicting belief surfaces, “I was harmed during service, and I am to blame.”  If one is ‘stuck’ here, it may take some time until one is able to get feelings out about the trauma, because one is processing a number of rationales.  “I deserved it because…” , or “I misinterpreted what happened, I acted inappropriately, I must be crazy…”  The goal is to change the prior belief to one that does not hinder acceptance.  For example, “I may not be able to protect myself in all situations.”

(chapter continues with recovery methods)
Tommy Johnson Dec 2013
You can hear the voices of our peers being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways to the street corner to score a dime bag.
Bright, insightful millennials freezing in search of warmth from something to believe in that will encourage them to look forward to see another day.
Where our economy has made financial prudence clear when talking about education, yet price tags of university tuition's skyrocket.
The refused, the ones with hope but no money or scholarships; tread the streets with the echoes of electro house pulsing in their skulls.
Those who strip themselves down and shred their own morals to scraps just to find themselves and to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown, to ascertain what they are, who they are and why.
Timid in high school, pushed along with nothing and no one to put their creative vigor into.
The squeakiest wheels that were never even considered to be given a good greasing.
Faculties giving them lethargic hellos on the first day of school, bestowing celebrated goodbyes to them on graduation day, diplomas in hand.
Now are the ones slumped over in a lackadaisical position contemplating how they can afford an education.
They work eight to ten at seven twenty five an hour Monday to Friday; and weekends staying in as not to blow their earnings.
Those who commute to university and balance a job with it, I applaud you.
The bewilderment of adulthood, the overabundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities, missed trains and lost contacts.
To step out of bed and splash water onto a severely distressed face and staring into a mirror with a despairing look.
Then hoping a bus to Garfield to bring back weight for all the embryonic smokers not yet at the point of make or break, just save up enough to pave my own way.
Gazing at the town on a roof top, chugging down the tenth…no…twelfth beer of the night wondering how this all happened.
Wild sensations of kissing an attractive stranger, the rush of touching on things never felt, tasting pleasures only the lucky have known.
The passionate, yet dissolute yearning for that ever eluding ******* adrenaline. Pounding, Pounding, Pounding until the culmination of energy has come.
Flip sided to those dizzying, tear jerking thoughts of suicide, annihilation of ones being, the contradictions of their faith in themselves and the people around them.
Unexplainable waves of anxiety crashing onto the shore of a diminutive island of optimism
Striving to look past the panic, the gloominess and fury that may or may not be present. But to remain composed and press forward to what awaits them.
Coffee keeps them going. Cup after cup, late night cramming every bit they can; into their caffeine driven psyches until the indisputable crash and failure.
Packs and packs of menthol cigarettes to calm their rattling nerves but at the same time killing them slowly. Their lives will seem shorter than the time it took to finish one bogey when death is near.
Marijuana induced ventures to run down burger shacks, laughing hysterical in the car ride, eyes heavy with a most ridiculous elastic grin extending from ear to ear. While inside millions of thoughts and realizations of consciously simple speculations and troubles become clear and unproblematic. So the joy is mirrored outside in.
LSD trips in Petruska dancing and singing in the rain! Making music, making love; playing pretend and creating art. Becoming a family while kicking back under the warmth of an illuminated tree on a cool fall night.
MDMA streaming through the body, everything is as it should be
Beautiful, lovely to touch, wondrous to stroke, marvelous to move.
To contact and connect, converse and converge with the dwelling desire to share what you feel with everyone for it would be selfish and unpleasant to keep it in.
Mushrooms oh the emotional overflow I need not say more but ****.
Then there are over the counter candies, Oxycontin, ******, Adderall and Xanax, painkillers and antidepressants. Ups, downs, side ways and backwards.
Selling addiction and dependency legally to kids. Making heroine, ******* and speed easily obtainable to them. Changing the names and giving out prescriptions so the parents can feel like they're actually helping their children but are subconsciously making it easier on themselves because they cannot handle the way their offsprings actually are. Some parents a feel it is the only way, I wish it wasn't so. Becoming zombies, mindless addicts before they even start to mature into puberty. I've seen it, firsthand front row.
Oh, the monotonous, mundane rituals and agendas of our lives. School, work, sleep eat, the sluggish schedules and repetitions of yesterday's conversations and redundancy of itineraries we had plotted months prior.
Same people, the constant faces of boredom that groan in apathy and hold the fear of complacency.
We talk about how hum drum out lives have become and what we could to put some color in our world but don’t.
We speak of how unfair the system is but ultimately confuse ourselves and everyone else due to lack or organization and dedication so nothing is changed.
We speak of breath taking women we want to share ****** fantasies with but can’t even muster enough courage to send a trivial friend request.
Texting away for hours trying to court those who now occupy our minds and possess our hearts hoping they may allow us to acquire their attention and affection. Calling them only to receive futile dial tones and know we are being evaded.
Weeping on and on for seemingly endless time frames of a dilapidated relationship that was so strained that a miniscule breeze could cause it to collapse but still clinging to every memory as if they were vital hieroglyphics depicting your very essence.
Brilliant theories blurted out in a drunken stupor.
Ingenious hypothesis shrouded in marijuana smoked out room.
Remembrance of friends long gone.
The marines, the navy.
The casualties of drug addiction.
The conquerors or their afflictions.
The scholars.
The insane locked away on the flight deck never to be seen again.
Teenage mothers unsure of themselves, abandoned by their families for they believe that they brought fictional shame upon the family’s name. The fate of the child is unclear but the mother’s everlasting love shines through any obscurities in its way.
Dear mother of the new born winter’s moon may the aura of life protect you and your baby.
The father gone without a trace.
He will never know his daughter.
And it will haunt him forever.
Parents bringing up their kids with values and morals, The Holy Bible, mantras and meditation, the Holy Quran, The Bhagavad Gita, and Upanishads. Islamic anecdotes and Jewish parables.
The names all different
The message the same
The stories unlike
Goals equivalent
Faith
Kabala, Scientology and Wicca
Amish and Mormons
All separate paths that intertwine and runoff each other then pool into the plateau of eternal life.
But do we have faith in our country, our government?
They do not have faith in us. Cameras on every street corner, FBI agents stalking social media, recordings of our personal lives and police brutality. 4th amendment where have you gone?
We say farewell to Oresko the last veteran of the last great war. And revisit the Arab spring, Al-Assad’s soldiers opening fire on innocent protesters, one hundred fifteen thousand lay dead. Bin laden dead, Hussein hanged, Gaddafi receiving every ounce of his comeuppance. War, terrorism, the fear of being attacked or is it an excuse to secure our nation's investments across the sea? Throwing trillions of dollars to keep the ****** machine cranking away, taxes, pensions, credit scores, insurance and annuities all cogs in the convoluted contraptions plight.
My dear friend contemplates this every night laying in bed, fetal position; the anxiety if having to be a part of this.
Falling apart on the inside but on the outside, an Adonis, *******, Casanova wanna be. Who worshiped the almighty dollar, gripping it so tightly until it made change, drank until he had his fill falling face first into the snow. The guy who lead on legions of clueless girls wearing their hearts on their sleeves not knowing he had a girlfriend the entire time. Arranging secret meetings in hidden gardens, streaking into the early morning. Driving to Ewing in his yellow Mustang to woo a sado masochistic girl. The chains and whips do nothing to him he is already numbed by the thrill. Then he comes home, lays in bed until one, with no job and having people pay for his meals.
He knows what he does and who he is wrong. He recites and regurgitates excuses endlessly. He cries because he knows he is weak, he knows he must fix himself. I sit on the edge of myself with my fingers crossed hoping maybe, maybe he will set himself straight.
My chum who can talk his way out of any confrontation and into a woman’s *******. Multitudes of amorous affairs in backrooms, backseats, front rows of movies theaters. Selfish, boastful and ignorant, yet woman fling themselves at him like catapulted boulders over a medieval battle field just to say hello. These girls blind to see what going on, for their eyes were taken by low self esteem. A need to be accepted, to feel wanted even only for fifteen minutes. Poor self image, daddy issues, anorexic razor blade slicing sirens screaming on about counted calories and social status. Their uncontrollable mental breakdowns and emotional collapse. Their uncles who ***** them, their parents who split up and confusing their definition of love and loyalty for the rest of their lives. Broken homes, domestic abuse and raised voices, sending jolts of fright into the young girl’s fragile minds. I send my sorrows to you ladies, to see such beautiful creatures suffer then be used and thrown away with the ****** that was just ****** deep into their *****.
Then I see women and men of marvelous stature, romantic in the streets holding everyone and everything in high regards. Finding beauty in anything and anyone. Enjoying every second as if the rapture was over head eating exotic foods from unheard of countries and cultures. Bouncing to the sound of whimsical , reverb ricochets and sense stimulating music. Huffing inspiration to create something out of thin air. Dancing to retired jazz and swing albums as if no time had past since their conception. Wearing bold colors and patterns, thrifty leather shoes or suede.
Dawning pre-owned blazers because why spend hundreds of dollars on new clothes just to look good but feel uncomfortable with a hole in your pocket. Dressing up but dressing down, so class yet urban I love it, chinos, pea coats and flannels so simple but chic.
At night they go to underground dens, sweaty bodies, loud music and freedom. Expressive manifestations glowing fueled with MDMA and other substances to further their enjoyment of the dark glorious occasion. Kandi kids sporting colorful bracelets, not watches for time is of no concern to them, they have all eternity they know that.
Going to book stores, coffee shops just to have some peace of mind and a moment of silence to themselves so that can weave the tapestry of imaginative innovation. Writing their own versions of the same story, endless doors of perception, reading news papers and taking it with a grain of salt. Watching the news on TV with a hand full of salt. Searching for the real story so they can know if the world they all live in is actually safe.
She who made her own way breaking hearts, rolling blunts and making deals. The flower child of the modern age, left the rainy days in search of radiant sunshine, idealistic. Reality was subjective, purple dyed hair, multicolored sweater with sandals on her feet. A ten inch bowl with bud from California packed in tightly. Coming from Dumont to Bergenfeild then on to Philly to Mount Vernon. Off to Astoria and the Heights. Now to Sweden laying in the grassy plains below the mountains. Good for you my friend whom I have loved, may fortunes of unsullied joy come to you and all you meet.
Since you’ve left I have encountered drunken burly firemen just trying to have a good time. Pounding down Pabst Blue Ribbon as if it were water; as if it were good tasting beer. But heroes none the less.
EMT's, young eighteen years old high school graduates, saving lives reviving people who are a mere inch close to death.
Sport stars getting scholarships thanks to their superior skills and strength.
Striking beauty school students who are into making the people of this world a little bit more beautiful on the outside.
All these people, successful, doing things. Departing to their desired destinations. I see inside them, they carry baggage, loneliness and insecurities. I can feel their guilt slowing them down. All have their loads but it’s the way they carry them that shows who they really are. And to me their all gems.
Not far in Paterson I watch the junkies limping across busy winding street, perusing a severely needed fix. “Diesel!” they shout beneath flickering streetlights, asking for spare change and if bold enough a ride to some shady sketchy place. I give them a dollar and politely decline. They’ll die without it. Vomiting up bile and blood, twitches and shivers are all you feel when it’s not in you. They cannot stop, they need help. Why not help them instead of “assisting” those who are homosexual? Cleansing so they can be granted entry to the kingdom of God. Looking down on people who have found love and understanding and a deep attraction to others who just so happen to share alike genitals.
Narrow minded uproars about the spread of AIDS, nonsense! The puritanical onslaught of those who want nothing more than the rest of us, love. "Gay", "****", "******", "queer", how about "kind", "funny", "genuine human being"? The right to be married and divorced should be an option for everyone to enjoy. The strains and hardships of matrimony are yours if you want them. If you don’t agree don’t hate or harm just allow them to be peacefully. Same goes for anything for that matter, Jehovah's going door to door, Mormons from Burbank. New ideas are never a bad thing, they’re not a waste of time. On average you have about eighty years to mull over your options.
Some people don’t live long enough to do so, cancer is rampant, blood diseases, ****** diseases, natural disasters coming right out of left field and blindsiding the innocent bystanders of both hemispheres. Some go through life handicapped, autism is apparent these days. Schizophrenia, Asperburgers, ADD and ADHD. Some lose their golden memories of their many valuable years walking down Alzheimer's Lane, not being able to remember whatever transpired only a few moments ago but revisiting gold nuggets from from fifty-some-odd years ago with ease. Some go through life delusional or bipolar. Some can't even sleep at night but they still carry on. And if assistance is needed it is our job as a race to help our brothers and sisters, no one deserves to be excluded from the gala of life. Or be denied by society and pumped with brightly colored pills from doctors promising a cure but prescribing a crutch.
Finding solace in sincerity.
The serendipity of it all hasn’t been uncovered and that keeps me going.
“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world above, below and across. Unhindered without ill will without enmity.” Oh Buddha the truth as it ever was.
Who is he who keeps these thoughts from the conscious minds of the population?
Who is it that distracts us from the humbling beauty and overwhelming devastation of this place of existence we’re in?
It’s they who do under the table parlor trick behind our backs.
Those who broadcast mind numbing so called reality TV shows without an underlying value or meaning.
Those who produce music, proclaiming extravagance to be the end all be all gluttonous goal we all should aim to achieve.
And those who turn noble causes into money making scams and defile pure ideas.
And of course those who give false promises of easily obtained  bright futures, those who don’t care, those who steal, ****, curse, bad mouth and lie. But still manage to get elected into positions that more or less decide out fates. Monsters, demons, banshees howling inconsequential worries and leaving us deaf to hear the real issues.
The
Sacrelicious Jul 2012
**** this,
**** that,
*******
and every ******* lie.

That slid through your
crooked/cracked teeth.

My fists,
consumed with an
angry adrenaline.

Knock out em' out.
You're going to need
an oral surgeon.
Next line you drop.
And Pow.

Talk ****,
get hit.
No, get electrocuted.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
.oh sure, just pass the mortgage payments, i might pay, when i pay off whatever life i lived, and the life i didn't... and some third-party-whatever... oh yeah... just fax me the existentialist details... overloaded with pop Darwinism for the simple answer of a complex question / mode of being... yeah... such the mode of being... give me the mean of non-being... the **** life once was, but became reduced to an epitaph... and only if, if! i am rich enough to afford a gravestone.

don't worry...
if we're just clausit instances
of humanity,
the whole closure chapter...
just wait for the Holocaust
survivors to die with the deniers...
and then you can come
after us...
i'm all up and arms for
en masse euthanasia schemes...
****... let's bypass
the ponces and cowboys...
i'm ready...
   so...
..........................................
tick tock tick tock
tick tock..........................
           missing *****?
****... they castrated you before
they gave you authority
to **** me ethically?!
the *******!
          idiots don't even understand
the whole...
   altar, sacrifice of water mammals...
a beached whale is not
a beached whale...
******* can't even allow
a whale to commit suicide...
even whales ingest a Kamikaze
mentality...
whales don't beach...
but what is the poor ******
going to do...
jump off a bridge?!
   i'm not buying it...
who needs to be saved,
if they can't even be considered
redeemable?!
how can you, "save" someone,
when you cannot provide
redemption for them?
the non-redemption clause:
can't redeem them,
subsequently can't save them...
all you're doing is
prolonging their suffering,
elevating the suffering through
the elevation of failure
in the failure of ending
the suffering...
  so... no one spotted that
the beached whales...
as mammals...
were attempting to commit suicide?
beached whales are whales suicides...
no one saw that?
it wasn't an eye-sore
staring back?
the suicide has already a conundrum
before him...
the lack of suspense,
or rather, the element of surprise...
at least homicide involves
a rush of adrenaline...
       adrenaline... surprise...
     suicide avenue...
     brave people...
                    brave because there is
no suspense of surprise...
absolutely no adrenaline...
          the aspect of consciousness,
the contradictory "choice"...
that contradicts the "choice" of
encountering esse per se,
  or qua vivo...
          i'm not about to solve
this noumenon...
i can't solve it,
because the noumenon of suicide
is already a phenomenon of
a million counter arguments
worth justification...
      but a beached whale?
a whale is a marine mammal...
a beached whale...
what is it? usually a young male...
don't you find it odd...
aren't dolphins intelligent?
aren't whales intelligent?
      so something stupid...
  couldn't exactly elborate the concept
of suicide... could it?
perhaps a stampede...
but surely not a suicide...
         god?
sure... intelligent animals came up
with with god...
but the same intelligent animals came
up with the paradoxical
contradiction, of suicide...
whales...
            beached whales?
you think they were stupid enough
to become, "beached"?
they were in the act of committing
to suicide...
and you were stupid enough
to make attempts at "saving" them...
whatever god is, within the focus of ideal...
suicide is, what god isn't,
within the basis of the inevitability of, will...
we're mortal!
I jump off of the train into the arms of the adrenaline that I crave. He is the poison that makes me feel alive. I keep jumping off of more trains, trying to catch the high. Falling into the arms of adrenaline  once again. He pulls me down and leaves me with bruised limbs. And the angel that saves me again and again  whispers soft words Into my broken mind. Her words flow as she tells me that it isn’t the adrenaline that I want most.  It’s the antidote. And I looked up poison in the dictionary and found your name. You were just another train. All you do, my darling, is cause more pain.
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
This is far from a
car S-p-a--C-y
Oh! My? Crossover traveler
The Phyton
Top of the rank
collision-course
New job space
planning tech magic cursor

Magical Podcast*

Do we have space
Sci-Fi-Hi Meeting
Googling creating playing
Cheating Overexaggerating
And faking our
(dead)lines

Not meeting our deadlines
What is the right time?
Spacewalking on the yellow brick
the road you are my sunshine*
"Million light years away from being rich"?

     Lucy in the Sky
       LSD-Little space devil
No/space for Jack the shinning
of diamonds, this isn't Oz
Emerald City or spin-off

Climb the ladder space objects clutter
Posh-Rich Witch is which
The last epidemic standup comic

Crawling having a ball Spalding

That Spiderwomen kvetch
Wolftie face switched
Fox lies moms moon pies
The collision of the moon
Space monkey baboon
The equation or burning
Sun people in devastation

Magic God

What time holds the
Mass control Einstein the professor
The brain exploding stars
Study hall those equations

In Princeton New Jersey
Those tiny particles lost in space
This corporation division
*
Space Between_

*Hard paper scissors and
Mr. Rock

It's time to money pound
The Big Ben clock
"Do we act like the only
one on this planet"                  
The Singularity
The multiplicity
The burning sun
*
War of the Military
Hot fun "Twin City"
Medieval twin planets

She's brace-space and he's
Well known physic
energy flowing one
step beyond collision of '
     Two Gods"

Magic space-lotus love of "Venus_
Pond

The Mall of America Star Spangle Banner
Next International flight became a winner

Plants and animals
The primal magic
Catching the
planets there both
emerging
The submerging eye
Space-out engaging

The civilization nightmare
On the cusp right here
Martian stripe and stars
Wipeout species of mars
Gravitatious collide of lovers
Confused about earthlings
More siblings another planet colliding

Like a space odyssey ground control to
      "Major Tom"
Fe fi fun on space run
Our Earth Mondadori
Spicy pleasure taste for
Chicken Tandoori
Magical dish
Make a wish

Magic hands believing

Metagalactic space and time
Holy God realistic
Osprey someone is the prey
In the movie magical classic
Breakfast at Tiffanys
Holiday mind dressed up window
"Out of our comfort zone
eating to the end twilight zone widow"

The extra enchanted evening
For the Moms only
Our heads over space
heels hit the ceiling

Eggs Benedict, the salt wasn't kosher
Artsy Audrey Hepburn don't push her

Celestial Ocean Space Steven Universe
The Christmas madness sale
Poison Ivy Pointsetta what
a vendetta
Interstellar meeting her
new race feeling out of place
Adulation like a prosecution
Space collide anytime
can explode

Two worlds become tragic
Space station not a game
A haunting catastrophic
Collision Titanic ship

Magically got more modified
Needing a space program the
spy to identify  

Dragonfly to Madame Butterfly
Space of magic crime-space
All spots, not Dalmatian
Space wings set up for Superman
Magic fan rising adrenaline
Monster cookies for Madeline

Fire and Ice Global warming
wildfires now the collision
On another planet warning
Miracle blessing of magic
Someone before or after
just to touch them

We cannot stop this craziness
The outburst goes pop the weasel

Magic place portal
Something in the way
to crumble like a baby
firstborn rocking her cradle

The curiosity space philosophy
Like breed of cats,
Licking tongue envelope
The cats eye Egyptian
Terrified space milk the tabby
Meeting my space hubby

Microscopic became two dots .-.
Space became a new buried plot
Is this all I got Twitter
Home run ball and
New York Dodgers
Brooklyn bat *******

So compelled to the computer
Designed the Rover robot lover
Magical Elton John
wedding
space planner
Across the Universe
John Lennon
Bennie and the Jets
Like a science
Teacher's pets

Eyes spaced out the magic place within**
So sacred magic hat Rabbit
Mountain bear Airspace Hobbit
Roll over Beethoven
The dog bone playing space I tunes

The spaceship magic
fingers piano
Plays one enchanted evening
Let me see the beautiful
new awakening
When Robin sings
Her magical wand
Lights up the world
of hands magical awaits

Remember "A Poem" can be magic
Collison in Space or Good earth how do we collide into one another planet some fire exposed in our words can we change the way we feel we collide again but what happens when our planets collide
The taste of adrenaline sits on my tongue
Copper in flavor, or maybe zinc, or steel
I do not know
So many metals have I tasted
This taste burns
Sending jolts of electricity through my body
This taste of adrenaline only comes
When I think of you
Along with the butterflies
How they wreck my stomach
Wreaking havoc within
Causing the taste to become bolder
Unable to rid it with simple drink
The only cure for such a taste
The balm of your lips
The touch of your skin
I need it now more than ever
To push aside this metallic taste
*adrenaline
Josh C DeWees Oct 2013
The world is my oyster
No its not
Ever oyster needs a shuck
Tell me where mine is?
Another pill
Another suppressant
No
No more pills
A sweet shot of adrenaline
The other me takes the wheel
My devil behind the wheel
My foot pressing the gas down
Another monster releasing
Bloodshot vision
Crimson craving beast

Cutting
Stabbing
Ripping
Tearing
Maiming
Beating
Twisting
Biting

My my just can't lie
Its the love of the chase that created this high
My my I need a shot again
Sweet adrenaline
I've been acquainted with the following psychoactives compounds:

Depressants & Dissociatives;
Ethanol / drinking alcohol
β-Phenyl-γ-aminobutyric acid / PhGABA / Phenibut
γ-Hydroxybutyric acid / GHB / G, fantasy
Morphine / *****
Thebaine / Paramorphine
Codeine / 3-Methylmorphine
Dihydrocodeine / DHC
Tramadol / Ultram
Diazepam / ******
Chlordiazepoxide / Librium
2'-Chlorodiazepam / Ro5-3448 / Diclazepam
4'-Chlorodiazepam / Ro5-4864
Alprazolam / Xanax
Clonazolam, Clonitrazolam / Clam
Etizolam / Etilaam, Etizest
Flubromazolam
Zopiclone / Zimovane
Quetiapine / Seroquel
Thiopental / Sodium Pentothal
Nitrous Oxide / N2O / NOs, laughing gas
Amyl Nitrite / Poppers
Promethazine / Phenergan
Cetirizine / Zyrtec
Dextromethorphan / DXM / Benylin, Robitussin
Ketamine [racemic] / K, Kitty
Esketamine [S-isomer] / Special K
Deschloroketamine / 2'-Oxo-PCM / DXE / DCK
Methoxetamine / 3-MeO-2'-Oxo-PCE / MXE /  Mexxy
3-Hydroxyphencyclidine / 3-**-***
3-Methoxyphencyclidine / 3-MeO-***

Stimulants & Nootropics;
Adrenaline, Epinephrine
Ephedrine / Ephedra
Pseudoephedrine / Ephedra, Sudafed
1,3,7-Trimethylpurine-2,6-dione / Caffeine / Coffee, Black Tea
3,7-dimethylxanthine / Theobromine / [constituent of] Chocolate
N-Ethyl-L-glutamine / L-Theanine / [constituent of] Green Tea
Lidocaine
Bupivacaine
Benzoylmethylecgonine / ******* / Charlie, nose candy
(2R)-2-acetamido-3-sulfanylpropanoic acid / N-Acetylcysteine / NAC
2-Hydroxy-N,N,N-trimethylethan-1-aminium / Choline bitartrate
L-alpha glycerylphosphorylcholine / Alpha-GPC, Choline alfoscerate
Cytidine 5'-diphosphocholine / CDP-choline, Citicoline
2-Dimethylaminoethyl (4-chlorophenoxy)acetate / Meclofenoxate
N-Phenylacetyl-L-prolylglycine ethyl ester / Omberacetam / Noopept
Coluracetam / BCI-540
(R,S)-2-(2-oxo-4-phenylpyrrolidin-1-yl)acetamide / 4-Phenylpiracetam
(RS)-1-(1-methylethylamino)-3-(1-naphthyloxy)pr­opan-2-ol / Propranolol
(±)-2-Benzhydrylsulfinylethanehydroxamic acid / Adrafinil
(±)-2-[(Diphenylmethyl)sulfinyl]acetamide / Modafinil
(–)-2-[(R)-(diphenylmethyl)sulfinyl]acetamide / Armodafinil
(S)-3-[1-Methylpyrrolidin-2-yl]pyridine / Nicotine / Tobacco
3,4,8-Trimethoxyphenanthrene-2,5-diol / Dendrobium Nobile
Mesembrine / Sceletium Tortuosum, Kanna
3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine / MDMA / Molly, Mandy, ecstasy
3,4-Methylenedioxymethcathinone / MDMC / βk-MDMA / Methylone
β-Keto-methylbenzodioxolylpentanamine / βk-MBDP / Pentylone
α-Methylphenethylamine / Amphetamines / Speed
N-Methylamphetamine / Methamphetamine / ****
4-Methoxyamphetamine / PMA, 4-MA / Death
4-Fluoroamphetamine / 4-FMP, 4-FA /  PAL-303 / Flux
2-Fluoromethamphetamine / 2-FMA
Methythiolpropamine / MPA / Blow
3-Methylmethcathinone / 3-MMC / Metaphedrone
4-Methylmethcathinone / 4-MMC / Mephedrone
4-Methylethcathinone / 4-MEC
4-Chloromethcathinone / 4-CMC / Clephedrone
4-Fluoromethcathinone / 4-FMC / Flephedrone
4-Fluoromethylphenidate / 4F-MPH
4-Fluoroethylphenidate / 4F-EPH
3-Fluorophenmetrazine / 3-FPM / PAL-593
4-Fluoro-α-methylaminovalerophenone / 4-Fluoropentedrone / 4-FPD
α-Ethylaminocaprophenone / N-Ethylhexedrone / NEH / Hexen
alpha-Pyrrolidinohexiophenone / alpha-PHP / α-PHP / PV-7
4-desoxy-MDA / 6-(2-Aminopropyl)-2,3-dihydrobenzofuran / 6-APDB
4-chloro-N-(2-morpholin-4-ylethyl)benzamide / Moclobemide
5-Hydroxytryptophan / 5-HTP / Oxitryptan
Escitalopram / Cipralex, Lexapro
Fluoxetine / Prozac
Venlafaxine / Effexor
Amitriptyline / Elavil
Tianeptine / Coaxil, Stablon
NSI-189

Hallucinogens & Psychedelics;
Δ9-Tetrahydrocannabinol / THC / Cannabis Sativa/Indica, Marijuana
Cannabidiol / CBD / Herbal Cannabis, Cannabis Resin
AM-2201 / Synth-'noid, Spice
NM-2201 / CBL-2201
5C-AB-PINICA
Harmine / Peganum Harmala / Syrian Rue
Salvinorin A  / Salvia Divinorum / Diviner's Sage
d-Lysergic acid amide / d-Lysergamide / LSA / Ergine
Lysergic acid diethylamide / Lysergide / LSD / Acid, Lucy
1-Acetyl-lysergic acid diethylamide / 1A-LSD / ALD-52
1-Propionyl-lysergic acid diethylamide / 1P-LSD
6-Allyl-6-nor-lysergic acid diethylamide / AL-LAD / Aladdin
2,5-Dimethoxy-4-methylamphetamine / DOM / Dominic
2,5-Dimethoxy-4-bromoamphetamine / DOB / Aphrodite
2,5-Dimethoxy-4-chloroamphetamine / DOC / Doctor
2,5-Dimethoxy-4-methylthioamphetamine / DOT / Aleph
2,5-Dimethoxy-4-iodophenethylamine / 2C-I / Infinity
2,5-Dimethoxy-4-ethylphenethylamine / 2C-E / Eternity
2,5-Dimethoxy-4-bromophenethylamine / 2C-B / Nexus
2,5-Dimethoxy-4-methylthiophenethylamine / 2C-T / Tesseract
2,5-Dimethoxy-4-ethylthiophenethylamine / 2C-T-2 / Rosy
2,5-Dimethoxy-4-fluoroethylthiophenethylamine / 2C-T-21 / Aurora
2,5-Dimethoxy-4-bromo-β-keto-phenethylamine / βk-2C-B
2,3,6,7-Benzo-dihydro-difuran-8-bromo-ethylamine / 2C-B-FLY
2,5-Dimethoxy-N-(2-methoxybenzyl)-4-bromophenethylamine / 25B
2,5-Dimethoxy-N-(2-methoxybenzyl)-4-chlorophenethylamine / 25C
2,5-Dimethoxy-N-(2-methoxybenzyl)-4-iodophenethylamine / 25I
3,4-Methylenedioxyamphetamine / MDA / Sass, Sally
3,4,5-Trimethoxyphenethylamine / Mescaline / M
3,5-Dimethoxy-4-ethoxyphenethylamine / Escaline
3,5-Dimethoxy-4-methallyloxyphenethylamine / Methallylescaline / MAL
N,N-dimethyltryptamine / DMT / The Spirit
N,N-dipropyltryptamine / DPT / The Light
N-Methyl-N-ethyltryptamine / MET / The Colour
N-Methyl-N-isopropyltryptamine / MiPT / The Touch
4-Hydroxy-dimethyltryptamine / 4-**-DMT / Psilocin
4-Acetoxy-dimethyltryptamine / 4-AcO-DMT / Psilacetin
4-Hydroxy-N-methyl-N-ethyltryptamine / 4-**-MET / Metocin
4-Acetoxy-N-methyl-N-ethyltryptamine / 4-AcO-MET / Metacetin
4-Phosphoryloxy-N,N-dimethyltryptamine / 4-PO-DMT / Psilocybin
4-Acetoxy-N-methyl-N-cyclopropyltryptmine / 4-AcO-McPT
4-Acetoxy-N-methyl-N-isopropyltryptamine / 4-AcO-MiPT / Mipracetin
4-Hydroxy-N-methyl-N-isopropyltryptamine / 4-**-MiPT / Miprocin
5-Methoxy-N,N-diallyltryptamine / 5-MeO-DALT / Foxtrot
5-Methoxy-N-methyl-N-isopropyltryptamine / 5-MeO-MiPT / Moxy

‒=≡End of Line≡=–
Losers
can't help
but keep score.
Vale Luna Feb 2018
(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.
Forward: from the victims perspective.
Backward: from the murderers perspective.

This TOOK ME FOREVER TO WRITE
THE ADVENURES OF GEORGE BURNINGTOM




YOU SEE IN THE DARK CORNERS OF A COUNTRY TOWN NAMED DUBBO, IN NEW SOUTH WALES

LIVED A GANG OF 13 YEAR OLD BOYS, WHO WERE ADRENALINE JUNKIES, YOU SEE TAKING RISKS

WERE THE MAIN PARTS OF THEIR LIFE, ONE OF THE BOYS GEORGE BURNINGTOM, WHO LIVED IN

A REALLY RICH HOUSE, IN THE RICH CORNER OF DUBBO, HATED HIS FAMILY SO MUCH, THESE

MATES OF HIS WERE MUCH BETTER, YA SEE, THE RING LEADER OF THE GANG WHO WAS HARRY SMITH

WHO WAS IN A VERY POOR FAMILY, YOU SEE HIS FATHER WORKED AS A CLEANER AT DUBBO ZOO

AND HARRY, HAD ALL THESE GET RICH SCHEMES, WHICH INVOLVED TAKING HEAPS  OF BREATHTAKING RISKS,

ONE THING THE BOYS WILL DO IS HEAD TO THE SKATE PARK TO RIDE UP ONE WALL AND OCCASSIONALLY WOULD SKATE DOWN

THE STAIRS, SOMETIMES SCARING THE OLD PEOPLE AS THEY PASSED BY THE STAIRS, GEORGE, WHO WAS INTO

SOAKING IN A BIT OF ADRENALINE, BUT JUMPING HIS SKATEBOARD, FROM THE FOOTPATH TO THE MIDDLE ISLAND

IN THE SWAMPY WATERS, MIND YOU, GEORGE FELL IN A FEW TIMES, AS HE TRIED THIS, AND SKINNED HIS LEGS

WHICH MADE GEORGE WANNA CRY, BUT HE WAS THINKING, BOYS DON’T CRY, BOYS DON’T CRY, AND THEN THE

OTHER KIDS RAN UP TO HIM AND SAID, YOU LOOK VERY HURT, BUT YOU ARE NOT A DISGRACE TO OUR GANG, IN FACT

YOUR PRETTY COOL.

THE BOYS WENT BACK TO THE SKATE PARK, AND DID A FEW TRICKS AND JUMPED UP ON THEIR BOARD A FEW TIMES

AND GEORGE FELL, HEAD OVER TURKEY, BUT LANDED ON HIS FEET, AND THEN THE BOYS SAW A SEMI TRAILER, AND GEORGE

SAID, LET’S RACE THISB TRUCK, AND THE OTHER BOYS SAID WE COULD DIE, IT’LL BE A TAD RISKY, AND GEORGE, OUR LIVES ARE

RISKY, YOU COULD SAY WE HAVE A RISKY LIFE, AND AFTER SAYING THAT, THE BOYS FOUGHT THEIR DELLUSIONAL THOUGHTS OF DANGER

AND RACED THIS TRUCK, AND THEY WERE ENJOYING RACING THE TRUCK, THE TRUCK DRIVER LOOKED THROUGH HIS WINDSHIELD

AND SAID, THESE KIDS ARE TOO CLOSE, AND THEN SAID, I HAVE TO TAKE AN EMERGENCY STOP, TO LET THESE KIDS PAST, SO HE DID

AND FOUND OUT WHAT THE KIDS WERE DOING SAYING, YOU KIDS DON’T UNDERSTAND THE ROAD RULES, AND THEN YELLED OUT

YEAH GO, YEAH GO, LIKE THE COWARDS THAT YOU ARE, AND THE KIDS RODE BACK, AND SAW THE DRAINS AND HARRY SAID LET’S RIDE

IN THESE DRAINS, AQND THEY WERE ENJOYING PLAYING IN THESE DRAINS, AND THEN THE PASSER BY, CAME UP AND SAID, LISTEN YOU KIDS

THESE DRAINS ARE VERY DANGEROUS, GEORGE SAID, WE ARE RISK TAKERS AND ADRENALINE JUNKIES SO TO SPEAK, AND THE MAN SAID

WHY DON’T YOU BOYS  GO ON HELICOPTER RIDES LIKE THE OTHER KIDS OF DUBBO, LIKE MY SON AND THEN GEORGE SAID, YEAH YOUR SON

WHO IS THE BIGGEST GEEK OF THIS COUNTRY TOWN, WHO CAN’T STAND ADRENALINE, IF HIS LIFE DEPENDED ON IT.

THEN AFTER THE MAN LEFT, THE GANG KEPT PLAYING IN THE DRAINS AND DESPITE ALL THE ***** LOOKS  THE PASSERBYS HAVE BEEN GIVING TO THEM

THE BOYS STILL PLAYED IN THE DRAINS WITH THEIR BOARDS, AND THEN AFTER THE BOYS WERE SICK OF THE DRAINS, THEY RODE THEIR SKATEBOARDS

OVER TO THE CORNER STORE, SO THEY CAN PLAY THE PINBALL MACHINE, BUT THE BIG BULLY MARKO BRIDGETOWN WAS THERE, AND THE ONLY WAY

TO HAVE A TURN ON THE PINBALL MACHINE, THE KIDS HAD TO BUY THE BULLY SOME GRUB, LIKE FISH AND CHIPS OR SUMMIT, BUT GEORGE SAID

WE HAVE BEEN TAKING RISKS ALL DAY, HOW ABOUT WE TAKE ANOTHER RISK AND STAND UP TO THIS BULLY, BUT THE OTHER KIDS INCLUDING HARRY SAID

THIS DUDE IS GOING TO BE ANGRY WITH US, BUT GEORGE SAID NO, WE DON’T HAVE TO BUY THIS BLOKE A MEAL, AND THEN SAID, I AM NOT GETTING BULLIED

BY SOME LOSER ON THE STREET, AND THEN GEORGE TOOK A RISK, BY KARATE KICKING THE BULLY, AND MIND YOU, GEORGE REALLY PUT THE BULLY IN HIS PLACE,

MIND YOU HE GOT A BIT TATTERED, BUT THIS WAS A RISK GEORGE IS WILLING TO TAKE, YOU SEE NOBODY IS MAKING FUN OF GEORGE BURNINGTOM AND GETS AWAY WITH IT.

DESPITE ALL THE KIDS THINKING IT WAS A RISK, THEY ADMIRED GEORGE’S BRAVERY, AND RODE THEIR SKATE BOARDS DOWN THE ROAD OF DUBBO, AND AFTER A

ADRENALINE DAY OF TAKING RISKS, EACH KID WENT HOME, TO WATCH A BIT OF TELEVISION AND THEN GO TO BED, AND TOMORROW, WELL, ARE THERE MORE RISKS

TOMORROW, I DON’T KNOW, TODAY WAS A RISKY PART OF THEIR LIFE.
Tomas Denson Apr 2014
A wild flight into drizzled dark night
The chorus line thumping
Overcome by roar and strain
Of metal tested to limits as we race
An endless risk disregarded as thought
And the sound of a bright giggle
Wondrous eyes lit in thrill of threat
Fear has no place in this setting

A manic gleam and set to her face
Sharing a secret as we laugh and howl
Because this is who we are
For all out control and desire
We scream endlessly through life eternally silent
Until we do not have to be
And in glory we release!

Fear is a thing to be learnt
A feeling to ******* and freeze
Is it felt here?
A resounding no! Shatters the question
In the screech of tires
In the surge of adrenaline
In the wild savage smile of freedom
Of a shout into the night in defiance of order!

Does my heart race as we tear around?
Not even a tremor! Until I turn,
My face from the moaning wind rushing past
And i gaze upon this savage exposed
Lips pulled back in ferocious glee
A focused and fierce glare to the world
We deny life and taunt the spectre
Come to us, we cry!

The paths are slick with tears of the gods
The roads tempestuous writhing in deceit
I sit in peace, relaxed
A warrior companion at my side
We know no fear of what may come
For trust
Ah trust
Is the colour of life
Ever shadowed as a challenge to endings!

She lights as a fire of the brightest stars
And i would embrace her
Burning endlessly.
joyce knee Jun 2014
When I was traversing in the alternate universe,
I couldn't stop sneezing.
I couldn't handle newness.
No benedryll for adrenaline.
The stars paved sidewalks
Into the deep depths of a frozen sea,
Straying salt crystals freely,
Caught by the laughing galaxies,
Who played marbles with dreams.
My hands began to twitch
Like piano ballads being spun in the air.
And I when became whole;
I existed, finally.
written 12/15/12
Johnathan locke May 2015
Humans get really crazy,
When they are are the polar opposite of lazy.
Climbing up a mountain, jumping from the sky,
This is a completely different kind of high.

Bungie jumping, shark diving,
Any activity that ends in dieing.
They go out of the box, while sane people stay in,
To get that dose of adrenaline.
Allyson Walsh May 2015
She was not just "asking for it"
Her skirt showing her long limbs
She is not one to submit
Or to give up when told to quit

She will not stand for your catcall
For your whistle and "hey there, doll"
You should not be appalled
Because she really can rule it all

She is fierce and she is true
She's neither higher nor lower, but she is equal to you
Her body is not just something you can tear down and *****
So, pack your things and say adieu

She is feminine
As well as pure adrenaline
Cease to examine this "specimen"
And become a true gentleman
For "Her"
Pyrrha Jul 2018
I want
To fall in love with someones smile
To swoon under their gaze
To become dizzy with their touch

I want
To crave someone like an addiction
To nestle up to their warmth
To get an adrenaline rush from their scent

I want
To hold them and never let go
To tell them how much I love them everyday
To keep discovering them like it's my personal quest

I want
To give them my heart
To love them for all that they are
To keep them from the tainted world

I want
But what can I do with these contaminated hands?
How dare I try to hold them close with these hands of mine flowing thick with lies?
To tell them sweet nothings with my corrupted tongue?

My love
Is like a wildfire
Sudden, quick, and innocent
Without my permission my little spark turned into a flame
And consumed everything that contained a letter in your name

My love
Is like a wildfire
Untamed, ephemeral, and dangerous
It destroys all it touches,
Breaking barriers, burning bridges
It envelopes everyone in its warmth leaving no option but to run or turn to ash

Beware of my wildfire love
You cannot leave unscathed
I leave a scar

Beware of my wildfire, love
Because I'll burn enough for us both
I'll keep you warm on cold nights and dry on rainy days
I will set your heart ablaze and love you with all the force of my wildfire

Beware of my love,
It can't be forgotten nor replaced
This is the first time posting a poem on here as I am a new member, I hope whoever stumbles upon my work enjoys and relates!
--- Jul 2013
So much excitement
Adrenaline makes it feel
Good
I'm learning so much
So fast
Hopefully the pain goes away
So that I may continue
My training.
Running is fine.
Jumping is pretty OK.
But landing...
Ow.
Maybe I'll rest a bit.
Izzy Jul 2017
First Minutes
The discovery sinks in as we spring into action
Adrenaline kicks in, heart pounding, blood rushing.
My mind confusedly putting pieces together.
First Few Hours
Calls are made to paramedics and cops and investigators swarm our house.
Our car goes faster than what is safe as we follow the ambulance as it carried what we would later learn was only her body and a few dedicated paramedics.
A time of death is announced and more tearful calls are made, this time to family and later to friends.
We leave hours later surrounded by a mournful silence.
First Day
We sat on the on the couch in a shocked silence, which was only broken by my calls to her friends, the ringing of the house phone and doorbell.
First Week
The silence was deafening and I had to escape.
So I returned to school after making arrangements with my family for the cremation and shedding my own tears for the first time. I caught the last two classes of the day and began burying myself in my classwork after telling those who needed to know.
First Month
Our own questions were behind every turn as we handled finances, possessions, settling things and celebrating her short life.  
I began to tell more and more of my friends.
Second Month
The pain was still fresh and stinging,
My mother returned to work for the first time.
Third Month
I held back my tears in English.
The play we read reminding me of her and running lines with her the previous year.
Fourth Month
I let it get to me while locked in my room, wishing it was my boyfriend's arms around me instead of my paint-stained jacket as I painted the canvas as black as I was feeling.
Recording my tears for him and watching how he hid his own watery eyes the next day in class as I honored our promise.
Her birthday passed and my mother planted flowers.
Fifth Month
After an uneventful spring break, my dad began staying home from work, unable to handle the weight of his thoughts.
Sixth Month
School ended and summer began and for the first time in what was now fourteen years, I didn't have a sister. I was alone.
Seventh Month
Slowly but surely the pain faded, with the help of scattered therapists, counselors, and mountains of support from family and friends. Summer traditions continued but were never the same.
Eighth Month
The weight of her absence doesn’t rest on my shoulders as heavy anymore.
Ink stains me with her memory. The pain I felt, saw and personified over many pages as we still face it.
My father has returned to work as we each learn to deal with the missing piece of our family in our own ways.
Ninth Month
School begins.
It's my junior year and school is starting for the first time since 3rd grade without my sister. My mother would always take a "first-day" picture, the tradition faded when we attended different schools. Maybe it wasn't so annoying after all.
Tenth Month
It's October, my, our, favorite month. Lost memories run through my head along with missed opportunities. Did we even carve pumpkins last year? Last year we argued about passing out candy but both ended up falling asleep. When was the last time we went to the County Fair? The Mullet Festival? Missed opportunities for silly reasons.
Eleventh Month
The Holiday season is kicking off. Soon it will be Thanksgiving. Her absence is noticeable as I stand amongst my family and celebrate. The only ones who don't ignore it are the little ones, repeatedly asking where she is as the grownups look uncomfortable. I don't know what to tell them.
Twelveth Month
The Holidays are in full swing and I can't help but think of the last one we all spent together. She passed before Christmas. They aren't the same anymore.

One Year
Its hard to believe that a year has passed without her. Her room is the same as if shes just at school. We spent the anniversary doing things she enjoyed, like taking the family dog to the beach and sharing cotton candy.
We haven't moved on, not in the slightest. My mother still cries, I don't think she'll ever stop. But as the days pass I can see how it gets easier and easier for my family to be happy again.
Mena Mulugeta Jul 2018
It’s deeper than that.
It’s deeper than the ocean.
It’s this feeling I can’t bare.
My heart thumping so quick

Adrenaline rush when I heard the
Words that you were gone.
Altitude is so high I can’t even cry.
12 Empire State buildings tall, and
I still really couldn’t reach my soul.
My emotions overpowering many things
Wishing you were here,
wishing there was a golden stairway to heaven.
I would climb milestones
just to hear your voice.
I wish I could come up home,
and sit down just to see your reflection.

You’re shining brightly
with flashes of light.
Looking like an Angel
I feel your presence.
  Things are unreal
  time is not ours,and
Forever you will be in my heart.
Rest In Peace to you beautiful souls.
May all you beautiful souls Rest In Peace Beruk
Charlie Hazels Jun 2014
Sometimes I forget
The abuse.
Sometimes even the
Pain begins to fade.
But then I remember-
Knocking on my door at 9.45
On a Saturday night
Isn't normal
When I haven't seen you in 3 years.

and the adrenaline rushes
and my heart is hammering
and the fear flows through my veins.
and i turn the TV up
and I pretend I can't hear you
and I cry silently.


Sometimes I think that I can
Move on.
Sometimes the barrier
Begins to fade.
But then I remember-
Parking outside my school
For a week
Isn't normal
When you don't even know my age.

and the adrenaline rushes
and my heart is hammering
and the fear rushes through my veins.
and my escape plan is ready
and I won't walk alone
and I try to hide in the crowd.


Sometimes I think you've
Finally died.
Sometimes the fear
Begins to fade.
But then I remember-
Offering holidays just to me
And not your other daughter
Isn't normal
When we both chose to leave your life.

and the adrenaline rushes
and my heart is hammering
and the fear rushes through my veins.
and my head is spinning
and I change my number
and I block you.


Sometimes the PTSD
Is gone.
Sometimes my childhood
Is rescued.
But then I remember-
A 30 mile bike ride
With no food or water
Isn't normal
When you're only 10 years old.

*and the adrenaline rushes
and my heart is hammering
and the fear rushes through my veins.
and the insomnia takes hold
and I can't open my front door
and if you could get in you would.
This is a response to my teen years, which were and are filled with huge stress because of one person, who I spend my life avoiding. I can't wait to be free when I go to uni.
Liz And Lilacs Feb 2015
She looked more alive
dangling from the edge
than she ever had resting
in the lap of luxury.
Were we ever meant to live the ordinary life?
Dreamer Apr 2015
The crowd fades away
As chords in every melody
Rings in our ears,
And shivers downs in our body
It vibrates in every muscle
A musical fusion
Almost everything didn’t matter
It’s you, me and the beating rhythm
The graceful posture
The sway of every gesture
It’s a motion adventure.

Feeling the adrenaline pulsing through
Pervading the entity
Beating rhythm pounding, it electrifies the body
into graceful art, emancipating the sound of the music
Captivating the mind, liberating the young, reckless soul
covertly hidden inside an indifferent exterior

A freeing beauty
of movement to the rhythm
A therapy to the mind and body.
Dancing to the music,
feeling every tune
every beat
every breath of every movement,
with Explosions of Euphoria
how about that! :) I'm so proud of us, we did it! I'm having that totally awesome post-poem feeling you know? So incredibly honored to be working with you, dear Pax :) We did a fantastic job, woot woot! (((hug))))
Kittridge James Feb 2013
The familiar rush
of adrenaline hits
almost cripplingly


Your hands have
become adjusted
to my every curve


My eyes dart
my voice becomes
a thick, heavy syrup


I flinch at first
but it switches to
thrashing about


Even just sitting
in your near vicinity
drives me batty
Sneha Thakur Jan 2018
Let me take you ,
Into my fathomless fantasy.
Let me uncover , What it feels like to be the one to love.
I see our bodies pressed against each other.
Fragrances binded into one.
Lips being sober.
Adrenaline pumping it's pace over .
I sense your heartbeat against mine
And I hear everything , From the whispers to the moans and the sound of your breathe .
You loose sweat , you cry , you sleep , you care , and you love tooo?
I lay confused . I thought you did not exist for real. I thought you were made of metaphors.
rained-on parade Jan 2014
You say doctors will
make the best poets.
They will search your emotions
by the skin; cutting open to reveal
and revel
with surgical precison.
They will play with
heavy drugs and blades--
nothing shall hide beneath
the armors of bone and muscle.
They know the anatomy
of the heart too well.
They will find the things
you have hidden in your chest.

I say
doctors will never be poets.
They are too mechanical,
too fast with their edges
and ridges.
They cannot see the pain
as pain but merely as an anomaly.
That sadness is black bile
not melancholia.
They cannot sing to you
but only clammer in medical jargon.

Poets will use their imperfect words,
and perfect rhymes
to find the secrets of your rib cage
with ease.
They will find every flaw
of your broken body
and make it the best story
you've never heard.

Doctors,
they will put love to define as
a momentary rush of adrenaline,
an arrythmia for another human
caused due to an imbalance of the heart rhythm.

Poets will tell you
that love is the first jolt
of life for them.
They will say love is a state of euphoria
that takes those irregular rhythms to perfect symphonies.

Doctors say that
veins carry blood
devout of oxygen.
I say that they carry your broken emotions
to their feelings factory
to mend it within its beautiful catacombs.

All those doctors
will find and fix you
with perfect solutions.

And these poets
will do their best
to be your perfect solution.
For Aarshia.

I am to be a doctor with a poet's heart.
Mason Hollows Nov 2014
Listen
My skin glistens
The sweat drips ~n~
I feel the motion
The rise of my emotions
The tingle in the spine
Expands in time
Engulfing my muscles
With adrenaline, hustle
**** reason
Incite treason
Don’t back down
Don’t turn aroun’
Introduced, an obstacle
Beat it like a rock, unstoppable
Heart, rhythm, momentum
Breath, flex, go get ‘em
Never rest,
There is no success
As soon as you think you won,
Something hits your chest
So stand up, strong
This fight is gunna last long
In 1 second,
You could be gone

ViKing
By GeoEthE
Another Bad Poem Mar 2018
she says
she's not a poet
but i find her poems
to have more meaning
more beauty, more heart
to them than mine
and the way
she uses her words
can change how a person is feeling
from sad to happy
just with a couple of phrases
knitted together

she says
she's not a good writer
but those early morning
last minute essays
of pure adrenaline and
half-awake thoughts
present ideas
in such a way
that it's impossible
to find them anything
but perfect

she says
she's not sure
what her future will bring
but i know her
she's smart
and she's
so wonderfully stubborn
that wherever she may end up
she will go farther
than anyone could have ever imagined
including me
i can't predict exactly where she'll be
in 4 months
or 4 years
but i know her path will go
down the most bountiful roads
and in the end
she'll be happy
and all will be worth it

she says
she's not grateful
but almost everything she does
she does for others
she loves her parents
and hurts when they hurt
she realizes what they do
for her, and wants to make them
the proudest parents on earth
she loves her friends
and tries to make them better

she says
she's a relationship whisperer
and i guess she's right
because with a few choice words
gentle nudges and an onslaught
of appreciated suggestions
she whispered us together

she says
that the dark spots on the sun
can bring shadow
to the most brilliant light
but not even
the dark of endless night
can dim her brightness
or hide her from those
who see her for who she is
who see her potential

she doubts herself
sometimes she thinks
she won't succeed,
always worried
that what she's done
isn't enough
or that there's too little time
to get everything done
but no matter the odds
no matter what she's up against
she pushes through
she persists, she fights
and she gets what she wants
or as close to what she wants
as is actually possible
sometimes she even achieves the impossible
and it's nothing if not admirable
showing me that anything is possible
proving to me that
"You could rattle the stars
You could do anything
If only you dared"
not by anything i've done
but by everything she's accomplished

she says
she's not beautiful
true, she's not a model
but that doesn't mean she's not perfect
but the way those eyes shine
like earth kissed by spring rain
promising life and happiness,
mirrored by her wide smile
though not often seen,
just one smile from her
is like a ray of sunshine
through grimy windows
bringing light into a place
that knew nothing but darkness,
warm enough to melt the walls
surrounding the coldest of hearts

somehow,
sometimes
she says she's ugly
possibly due to the scars
dotting her arms and her back
scars which started years ago
but on the contrary
i think they just enhance her
they make her more human
each one a reminder
that she's been through
countless things in her life
but instead of giving up
instead of giving in
she's come through,
a lump of carbon
forged by the fires
of her world
and the pressure of
her surroundings
the pressure of life
and came out
the most precious of diamonds
not the biggest
but the most wonderful of all
with small flecks of imperfections
that make it shine all the brighter

i say
she's often right,
but the subject
becomes herself
and she's far from the truth
she's absolutely wonderful
and in my eyes
perfect
a perfect person
and a perfect friend
the most beautiful woman on earth
mentally and physically
and there's nobody else
i'd rather love
quote from Sarah J. Maas
though the loving isn't easy, i still love
with all my heart
i hope this makes you smile when you're down
or helps you see yourself the way i see you
arizona Sep 2012
And for a minute, would you like to believe in love?
No, to really believe it's there. Wherever there may be.
Not chemicals reacting in your brain as the men in white would say.
But to have a feeling so deep, that not even the soul inside you can find it?
An attachment harder than concrete.
One that can be stepped on, over and over and remain intact.
To have the ability to combust at any moment of happiness.
Maybe from the sparks of the first kiss.
To have the words 'I love you' slip off your lips
and internally, believe this is heaven on earth.
However, those thoughts of your loved one
that magically filter through your head everyday
is nothing but what those men call adrenaline.
Adrenaline, Dopamine, and Serotonin.
When you say those words, do they slip off your lips like love?
When you touch and embrace each other, does the dopamine pour out of your heart?
Does love exist as we know it?
Nadia Apr 2015
It gets me high
The emotion,
It gets me high.
I live off of it
I feed
On the energy.
The pure raw anger of our last fight
Gave me an overdose
I'm intoxicated by pushing limits
The anticipation
I'm driven primal
By the hate.
I shoot up
And ride the high
Until I crash.
And burn.
And crave more.
Adrenaline flashing through.
I feel it move through all my being.
My bones paralyzed,
My flesh weakened by the strength of my veins.

I can hear the blood
As it rushes through my body.
My head is pounding furiously
My heart is beating fiercely.
Should I, should I not?

I wouldn't know now,
Would I?
For the question I ask;
Can I, can I not?
Can only be answered if I do.

Take the step,
Have faith in my doings,
For adrenaline flows through me.
Scary as it is,
It is to strengthen me if I dare.
So I will.
nivek Oct 2014
Engine is cooled
but ready
Tuned up
a full tank
Adrenaline
Adrenaline flows and you get ******.

Where do I run?

What do I do with this?

I have this rage,

This undeniable fear.

Nowhere to turn.

Which way do I steer?

I can’t **** this pain,

It burns too deep.

The tears flow and the heartache seeps.

Seeps to the very depth of my being.

All that I know,

Everything I'm seeing.

It Reminds me of you,

And brings back this hurt.

This horrible need,

I want to feel.

I need to bleed.

Maybe if the hurt is from self,

Then the other will subside.

So I take this off the shelf,

Pretend everything's alright.

Then I drop the hammer,

Push this metal through me.

The pain I knew,

Still bites through to me.

Why wont this go away?

Why cant I feel okay?

Nothing seems right.

You are not here.

Everything I once knew,

Just seemed to disappear.

Nothing I say.

Nothing I do.

Seems to let you know what I'd do for you.

Train, bullet, insurmountable pain,

Things I'd take so you'd never feel the sting.

What we had,

That was real.

I can still grasp it.

I can't help but feel.
- From Stirred Ramblings
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
.do you really need a disclaimer, for this sort of work? no, not really... it's not exactly being allowed the equivalency of dropping an in excess of 2000mg of paracetamol.

the one aspect of legacy media, that still has some viability, akin to rekindling the famous extract from the movie: all the presidents men... is concerns for metal health issues of youngsters, who didn't have, the, "privilege" of being exposed to internet ergonomics, other than within the confines of gaming, they came far too late for, what replaced mp3 sharing.... ideas are not exactly sound-bites of copyright infringement...

**** me... do i really have to slap then punch
myself in the face, to remotely stay
awake while drinking ***** like pepsi
sharpshooters?
     i guess so...

   i too, "suffered" from roman bulimia,
the classical kind...
   don't ask me how i managed to make
the esophagus contender of the heart,
muscle...
                 at first it was cheap choc down
the throat, missing on brushing my
teeth for 48 hours...
   then... ******* down the throat,
like the ****-style gimmick of the Watergate
informant...
       came back up, bundled in quasi turds
packages...
               classical Roman bulimia -
eat, regurgitate, eat some more,
hell, now you have a Pompeii style
banquet of the coming of age...
laxatives?
that's no bulimia...
  bulimia is an extension of an ancient
Roman practice, akin to throwing yourself
****-naked into a nettle shrub area...
to get the "itches"...
     that method, involved in energizing
the neuron extension of the skin...
              it's a "placebo" itch...
   nettles, ancient Romans,
and bulimia like the rite of a loss of
virginity of kings...
      festering at its core... of the French court...
with a *****'s teaching apparatus,
leveraging the use of, a single "tool"...
           and even though the ancient Romans
never reached my people...
i get to abuse their phonetic encoding stratum...
bulimia... sure... i, "suffered" from it...
not really, no... i ******* enjoyed
the regurgitation process...
   anti-Grecian pederasty gimmick...
(a) taking a ****
   (b) oral regurgitation
   imitating an ancient Roman banquet
(c) / (d) ensuring the two entry points
are filled by an external source -
wishing for vanilla custard *******...
none to be...
    oops...
               so no one taught these girls
about ancient Roman bulimic
practices?
   you work on the esophagus...
                       by the time i finished
the transition period...
  i automated the esophagus reaction...
like training gymnastics for a six-pack...
no longer ******* down the throat...
you say charge? i think of
a rhino juggernaut...
           so no one bothered these girls
introducing ancient methodologies
to their predicament?
    no training of the esophagus,
no two (index + middle) fingers down
their throat to ease their larynx from
a gagging order?
    none of it?
   they'll grow out of it!
i did...
       drink a liter of ***** per day
and i'm feeling: shimmy!
          upon each nocturnal investment
that i translate into writing...
      anorexia?
    give them excess coffee...
              or strong cider...
      the most pristine aperitif...
    you can't cure anorexia with either
drips or syringes...
   you need aperitifs...
                     but please don't give them
white vinegar...
           you need a balance of alcohol
overcoming the sugars...
     strong beer is alcohol overcoming
starches... won't work...
     coffee and sugar helps...
  both simulate the pristine form of
the marijuana *****...
             it's not poison...
so why should i care?
   oh but i do care... reading this article...
troubled teenagers dodge Instagtram
   curbs on photos glorifying self-harm
...
ever tried burning out a cigarette tip
on your knuckle?
   ever wondered about
    warming up a hand of scissors and
giving yourself an indie tattoo?
   while at the same time...
relying on the mouse principle?
i.e. remaining pipsqueak clean from
making any noise?!
              cutting is so crass...
so unimaginative...
  you will not achieve the adrenaline *****
status of a stab-victim...
   there is no element of surprise...
but...
     if you really want to ingest pain?
hmm... hmm?
            heat up a scissor arm...
   and put it against your skin...
            and then... EAT... the pain...
with what you can surmount in and with,
silence...
                   cutting is too... dramatic...
at least burning yourself you have
not achieved the stature of a shedding blood...
cleaner, more effective,
think of orange recycling bags
collected at the start of the week...

              **** me though...
you seen the comradely behavior
of competing athletes, at the european
championships in Berlin,
   with the pole vaulters?
   Armand Duplantis -
congratulated for having crossed
the 6m benchmark of respectability...
now... that's sport!
football, soccer, basketball,
call it what you like...
   that's not sport, that's business,
that's advertisement...
     that's concussion cover-ups...

Epke Zonderland? also a doctor...
communist Poland believed in
sport, sport on the side,
   sport was never to reach status
of a mono-career investment...
            most of the local football
players from my hometown,
also worked less hours in
the metallurgy plant...
                  that's sport...
   a healthy balance...
which, mainstream sport is lacking...
oh look...
   the women doing the hammer throw,
or the discus...
   not exactly Vogue / Chanel catwalk
material...
    mandible beauties...

    to be honest? the doping affair
in the Olympic sports?
   but a minor setback of credibility...
     i rather watch that...
   than those pitiable 22 ballerinas in soccer.
Veena Aneev Mar 2014
One yearns for the shock

Excitement, fear, or anger

The adrenaline
M P Hill Jul 2012
Feet clench when meeting the cool tile, Cold feet make way
to the trying wooden floor boards with subdued creeks
On a level so high up, there are two sets of thick glass
and a city just beyond my reach

This is where I rise and ponder at all hours of ever
aimless to the point of seeking something further
Than what my eyes have always sought

Waking searching heart beat ripples
grating fear dark moans my questions spiral on
Into tunnels where the Gods play life or death
and the air about them is so unapologetic
the sterile resistance of the catacomb becomes
Unaware

Can you hear it?

Chaos till the calm, the still
adrenaline on the breeze, the pulse
The hand grasping the arm in an attempt to relax

Me me me

Oh' you see me but do you empathize?

My defiance is as aimless as existence itself
meaning from something closer
Than what my mind has fought

The cure is liquid clear and precise
the instrument holds the sharpest alleviation
Potent in my veins I can feel sleep puncturing

Pure sedation,  and now I grow quiet, still again
what's that word? "Indifferent"

Indentured to the sterile glow of the catacomb  

I'm sure the needle would at least apologize
for all  of these misunderstandings
For people who struggle-
Constantly within their mind.
Derek Wings Aug 2016
It's those moments
Right before you jump off a cliff
When your heart doesn't just beat
But hits you in the chest
Trying to push you back
From this leap your about to make
Forcing your body to take
Against all fear
That excitement
That adrenaline
that fills your veins
When your feet leave the ground
And there's no coming back
As your falling down

I live for those moments
Because in life there are only a few
Like first time I looked in your eyes
And the first time I said I love you
The amateur poet Nov 2013
Running, running, faster, faster, harder, farther, pushing my limits
The rush of adrenaline floods my veins
Pushing me farther, faster
Making the cold air burn my face.
The closest thing I have to taking flight,
My dream

My dream that has been in the works for eight years now
Now, almost ready to be put into motion
A motion that must be completed once its started
And I've finally started to break away.

Jump, leap, reach for the sky.
My wings are ready,
And so am I.

Smooth, sleek, powerful in design
Just waiting for a spark
The allowance to fly.

Golden tipped feathers, all perfectly aligned
Tone wings from practice
Just waiting for a sign.

Planning, preparing my wonderful escape
Many years of planning, making sure of no mistakes.
The situation thought through
Run, leap, and fly.
It sounds so simple, but that is far from the truth.

Riding on this moment,
Every anxious hour spent crying in pain,
Just waiting to see the world from a freer point of view.

Failure leads to more waiting, and that just won't do.
The first try must work,
I'll make it to the clouds,
Just watch me.
The world will be mine.

The moon, the clouds, tired, sleep deprived joy.
The sights of the world I've only heard of before
Before I saw it rush under me below.
The music of the world
Singing the opening to it's show.
The wind in my ears, fire in my blood
I can only dream of what it will be like flying so close to the sun.

690 days until I can take flight.
690 days of planning it right.
It can soon be mine,
I will be free!
But until then
I fly at night,
with my love
but only in dreams.

— The End —