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Carter Ginter Sep 2014
White, my hands of ice
Warmed by the chilled blade upon my palm.
A touch of red
Blurs pink.
No light,
Just white, and fade
The frozen air begins to warm
as the water drips from my soul
onto the bedroom floor.
Meredith Ann Jan 24
Everything was always
In reverse with you
as you took all reason
and threw it away

I regret my ignorance every day.

But despite it all
here I am
listening to what memories of your presance tells me rather than my intuition
And even as I write this
Your hypnotic charm blurs my regret from miles away

And suddenly who I am is not as important as you.
Sometimes you like the idea of a person,
More than you ever liked them.
nojak Oct 2014
it seeps like sap down the spine
this tar, or fear, or hate of mine
beads opaque and thick and full of sin
i pick and peel
but they get in

i still dream
but blue, it blurs to black
deep seascape of a tormented hand,
i bind, am bound, to the things i pretend i understand
circle of a girl
eyeing squares of man

light is the letting go
hoping you pull, forgetting you won't
each time i forget, i melt and i drip,
a bad trip.

but when i think of teeth
discerning meat from bone
alone,
i float back with loose palms,
a calm.
Harry lights another cigarette
Amy's dog died at the vet
Peter made Amy upset
Paul wrote up another check
Yolanda made another bet

Amy slams Peter to the ground
Peter utters a horrifying sound
Riley drives out-of-town
Ingrid raids the lost-and-found
Larry wears Ingrid's stolen crown

Fabio plays a riff on the sax
Ophelia fails to pay her income tax
Oliver blurs the cold, hard facts
Larry has trouble trying to relax
Sergio takes a few steps back



Melody
4/1/19
If you read the initial letters of each line, you'll understand the point that I'm trying to make.
PC classic Feb 2016
torrential rain pours

Wiper blades
rises and sets
like the sun

the road awaiting
flashes and blurs

fleeting moments of clarity
DoreenL Jul 2014
-
Empty

Empty

Empty

When words become echoes of the self one minute past

When what’s seen passes and is forgotten

When details are absorbed into the surroundings

When recollections are blurs

When the body is a vessel

When the mind wants to cease

Empty

Empty

Empty

And the heart leaves all thoughts behind

Because wanderers or not we all are lost

-(when words randomly string themselves together,
they give me a sense that perhaps,

I am not empty.)
L B Apr 2018
There comes the disbelief
and the day
when a daughter comes to tell
the matter

And she knows you can't help
She knows there's no way
to convince
that afternoon to think about it....

No way to stop the fire in the leaves
of the driest April in twenty years
as it blackens the acres
and blurs the eyes
to all but its own emergency

Before it
the hay of last year's weeds
and all those buds that hope conceives

the flight of all that lives...

The plight before...
...The fire-line...

forces every hand
to the pure product of heat and light--
then to ash
and not to ask "This once was living?"

A senior class wrote their friend good-byes
...could not bring herself to...
...bring herself there....

She had to bring the mourning home
to make alive
to raise the sun--

"He slammed the medicine chest
And saw....
walked through the kitchen
opened the frig for the zillionth time...
Then walked a mile
in the woods behind his house."

Warm for April
short-sleeve warm

"...And I keep thinking
how the sun must've felt on his face and arms
He must've been swinging the jug
and--
WHAT WAS HE THINKING?

They found the empty amber
a hundred yards behind....

I keep seein' 'im put the handful to 'is mouth...
...Then the jug...
He must've had to swallow hard
They say you could tell
...where he stumbled...
...by the leaves...
...found 'im    on 'is side    with the jug
...just beyond    'is hand...

Oh Ma!  
I CAN'T!  I CAN'T!"

...So I--
"Maybe he was mouthing the words to a song.
...anyway the birds went on
and he was still warmed by the April sun

when they found him."
My daughter, Phoebe knew the kid who didn't make it.  We all know them.

...And there is nothing we can do-- but be there in this first real grief, thanking God for the gift of them, for every day--  giving them back to the giver of life along our sad way.
nicoarty Aug 2015
That is it then
The deal is signed
Everything, is in my mind
I watch past blurs
Doubled sight
What she said I fear is right

There's nothing wrong with me
Is what she said
Nothing wrong but what's in my head
But I can't think that
I can't see
Past the things I know to be me

For her it's not real
I guess it's easy to judge
But for me I can feel it - my own personal grudge
Against myself
My awkwardness
My fear of not being me
Saying things wrong whenever I speak

So tell me I don't tremble
Or take half an hour to reply
Tell me again how it's all in my mind

And if it is in my mind
No physicality in the mix
How could it be something
Real doctors can fix
Am I a monster?
Is something wrong in my head?!
"The problem is; You think that"
Is all that she said.
Doctor, sister, mother, friend,
Lover, brother, until the end
Is this what you see?
Is this what you say?
If so I don't think it's best that I stay.
Hunter Green Dec 2018
Have I lost what I’m just beginning to realize
is most important to my heart’s longing for home?
I was formed in this comforting hurting place of greens and golds and blues.
Help me,
I’m crying in the home-sickness of my bulldozed childhood house.
The rain that blurs my tears,
The fog that hides my fears,
The cold that gives warmth to what’s dear.
Like my memories slipping,
This sense of security feels,
lost.
Z Mar 12
29
"i'm always fine"
i've said that line
a thousand times before
that everything's okay
i'm sunny, i'm funny,
don't touch me
don't call my name like it's yours
i see blurs of peppermint and fingerprints
a hedonistic temperment
supplying my internal wars
that you don't have to fight
and it’s not your fault
but don't assume this is easy for me
to be what we were once, formerly
i feel too much, i overheat,
you touch me and i stall
M Salinger Jan 30
You used to be
the air that breathed
into my lungs, now
it's full of thick fumes

it dangles between my fingers,
burning bright & precarious
but solid, like us
or so I believed  

a long exhale, leaning back
my legs crossed,
because that used to
be yours too

smoke blurs my vision,
as I realized I've swapped
one bad habit
for another

and that the smell
of tobacco and cold air,
makes me feel
close to you

ash begins to fall and the heat
gets closer to my fingers,
the further I wander
through memories of you

and when the ember
threatens it's presence,
I'm awakened to the reality
that you burned away the same

as every cigarette
I've replaced
on my lips
since.
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