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our conversations are all in blue.
i try not to mind it,
like i try not to mind the hair falling out of my scalp.

you're just busy being unattached to me.

i make excuses for you as easy as i double text.
they flood my head like mantras,
but not the kind that make you feel calm or loved.
it's more like telling yourself you won't throw up after the twisty roads up the mountain.

but i want to see the view with you.

so i keep sending you blue paragraphs filled with 'sorry's and 'i love you's.
you send the same grey 'i love you, too's.
and we call it communication.

i'm the driver and the passenger
the carsick kid trying not to throw up and the toddler asking over and over if we're there yet.
but i want to see the view with you.
would it hurt to send a grey paragraph? or ask me,
in your best whine,
if we are at the top yet?
throw up in my lap. drive me crazy.

ask me for the aux cord and i'll give it to you.

i'm done listening to this album on repeat.
i want to hold your hand without worrying if your fingers are numb and you just don't want to hurt my feelings.
this car needs more you.
and i don't mean the you dressed in grey half messages that you probably rewrote three times.

i need the you that talked about faking our deaths together
like it was the only part of life worth living.
wearing that laugh you always say is too loud,
but really it sounds like music.
i like my music loud and angry.
and ****** at your parents for being expired versions of themselves, always expecting you to be organic.
i need that you like i need a vice.

because that's who i want to see the view with.
i miss you. not the you that texts me, 'i miss you, too.' i miss the you that calls me a crazyhead for texting you that at 1am <3

09.05.2021
Angela Campbell Feb 2014
Driving through time,
Reflecting on memories
The flashbacks come
In a spiral of streets

All it takes is a whiff
Of sweet salty air,
To think of that day on the beach,
When love was in the air

Driving through time,
I think of you, It's
Enough to make
Me carsick.

2/11/14
(a.f.c)
I've decided to write a series of 18 poems, because instead of trying to patiently wait until February 28th, this is my version of a countdown, to keep me preoccupied.
ri Aug 2017
falling out of love was easy.
all you had to do was make a call,
break a heart,
find someone new.
i guess that’s only if you fall out at all. i guess i'm still waiting for that.
i've been waiting for a while.
longer than it feels and shorter than I tell myself
i have a fear that i’ll be waiting to fall out of love with you when i have canyons in my face from age and broken legs from climbing up this mountain.

you can't tell people that your heart isn't the only thing broken.
bedsides from just being damaged goods, they've heard all your songs before. they're tired of it. "move on, change the station please, this melody is making me carsick. you've had your time to mourn."
everyone had their fair share of breaking. nobody cares.

and no one cares about poetry. no one cares that a poet cries when they think about daffodils or that they feel physical pain in their chest when they think about what wasn't meant to be but it happened anyway.
a poet writes for themselves, and how selfish is that? they consider others only when their chest stops hurting and expectations boil in their brain.
this honestly isn't good i'm sorry
Jake O Apr 2015
Passing by
One by one
Stopping and starting
Like my heart at your touch

All this jerking around
Has made me carsick
And I feel uneasy
Like when you gaze at me

I need to get out
I need fresh air
But I'm still on the highway
Breathing the same hyperventilation

Don't talk for me too long
Or I'll get sick again
And I'll have to leave you once more
Because I'm not used to this constant thumping sensation in my chest

The cars keep passing by
Thoughts from the highway in LA
~**** SOUND~

The way it's smelling, I can't believe it-I've never smelled a
**** LIKE THAT
It's oh so gassy, such a **** sound that goes
**** FA-FAR-FAR-****...
I don't believe it-it's got my face turning a pale greenish-hue!
You know I've never smelled a
**** LIKE THAT
It's oh so gassy, such a **** sound that goes
**** FA-FAR-FAR-****...

Verse 1
I think that the earth is shaking-I swear someone moves the breeze,
An' detonated a whole whopping ton of "Gaseous-TNT",
That **** was like a ghost in Ghost Busters,
It sneak up on you and you freakin' smell the
**** FA-FAR-FAR-****...
I turn around and think
What is this some kind of bad **** could seem,
Who ate that turkey sub sandwich with sharp mustard?
And then cut the cheese?
And do not think that this is the first time I or my friend here
"Duffy" made the birds "rush from the smell" to the trees!
For I, Triumph, am on a mission to escape this **** smell
In such a hurry-heading for the hills
-ABOUT TO PASS OUT........

The way it's smelling, I can't believe it-I've never smelled a
**** LIKE THAT
It's oh so gassy, such a **** sound that goes
**** FA-FAR-FAR-****...
I seek that face mask-like this is a smell emergency
Buddy, You know I've never smelled a
**** LIKE THAT
Don't no one order the garlic liver with fried onion steak!
**** FA-FAR-FAR-****...

Verse 2
The other day I was in gas station, some guy was getting gas
Had gotten "Carsick" and blamed me! But I knew the truth it was the car next to me,
I am not lying it came wafting through the breeze and it goes
**** FA-FAR-FAR-****...
I said, "MAN do I look like the "Houdini of farts?"
With fumes from some unknown specter of flatulence? When clearly,
It was you? What you think I should do? Don't look at me!
Make it so that everyone up in this gas station knows it wasn't me?
But you know the truth-it is a bag of chips I buy one for you please
Don't get so angry I didn't mean any harm, no need for one to yell,
You know you can't light a lighter or smoke? It's a law everyone knows
When there is so much gas you might just
**** (Phew-can't no one light a ****...!)

Chorus
The way it's smelling, I can't believe it-I've never smelled a
**** LIKE THAT
It's oh so gassy, such a **** sound that goes
**** FA-FAR-FAR-****...
Don't ya know that beans are a magical fruit?
I've never smelled a BIFF like that,
In the end we all can't escape the
noxious fumes of the
**** FA-FAR-FAR-****...

On airplane flight I was minding my own business
When some dude let an "aero-**** fly" a guy looked
At me and said:
"Hey, what you think that this is, did superman
Himself let a PHLPH
As his cape lifted up from a gassy (?)
**** FA-FAR-FAR-****...
"You think that Triumph the puppet dog not super enough?
I think you are like kryptonite to me! You saying I had some
Thing humble apology I had to say? Don't you know there is no room to breath?
I clearly know better I see the sign when you need to pull out a bag
Because you airsick there are multiple usages, and you can use it
Like I have repeatedly to breath from a **** smell I didn't make!
I am just a puppet, not a ****-tion teller...!

Chorus
The way it's smelling, I can't believe it-I've never smelled a
**** LIKE THAT
It's oh so gassy, such a **** sound that goes
**** FA-FAR-FAR-****...
From the rear end, this isn't a whoopee cushion ****-
Can't pretend
That I've ever smelled a
**** LIKE THAT
It's oh so gassy, such a **** sound that goes
**** FA-FAR-FAR-****...

MAN!
It's got a life all it's own!
Carlos Oct 2017
Repackaged, see the sentiment sculpted in the semblance of a seraphim with second skin,

I'm reckoning,

Respecting artistry is the energy in empathy,

Interdigitating like gloves to fingers,

Clutching the doorknob,

Twisting to a time that was once there, felt by a someone,

A freethinking carbon unit,

Carved by cards dealt and carsick movements,

This perfect person; a testament to diverging from automation,

A someone, Doing SOMETHING, somewhere,

Forging from thoughts to creation.

I admire you as a maker of things,

There are no mistakes, every moment is golden  -  don't flinch
Sobriquet Nov 2018
I was listening to Kings of Leon  
trapped on the bus for 2 hours
between a lady who had fallen asleep
and endless beech forest skimming past the window
green green grey green green grey,

until we broke through into farmland
past the national park sign
(ka kite ano ko Te Waiponamu),

and a shock of yellow broom flowers
waved us onwards past the lambs
and streams idling through the paddock.

40 minutes from home
it's stuffy and I'm carsick and hungry,
but it's Spring,
the sun's out and I'm just happy to be here.
its been a good year.
what a waste Feb 2018
Every single second it’s another parsec.
I know I’m a wreck, but the least you could do is visit.
I’ll grab you a map, so long as you don’t look at the distance.
I promise you won’t miss it. What’s another car trip?
No, you won’t get carsick.  It’ll be but a minute.
Plus I got a plane, so it’s nothing but a thing.
What do you say? Wanna be my Sunday?
Tap, tap
at the door,
the news
brought home…

carsick
journey,
no map
no compass…

just a face…

a face in
the crowd,
forever
impassive.
Nothing feels real. It feels like outside of these walls, there is nothing. Just a black nothingness where I will fall out of the doorway and keep falling, forever and ever and ever. It feels like there will not be a tomorrow. I will go to bed and I will not wake up. Or I will wake up and be surrounded by nothing. Everything is tinged with grey and everything feels wrong. I don't feel like I belong. Anything and everything that I'm not looking at, just doesn't exist. And if it does, it exists only in memories. My parents still exist, inside of their old victorian house, still sitting in their same office chairs, at their same desks, doing the same old things. Even though they haven't existed in that way for a long time. And I am not who I am supposed to be. I am someone else. Someone in the city, running from their problems on a cold rainy night through the glowing lights of the neon signs on every store front window. But I'm not. I'm here. But I'm not. I'm in the car, driving to North Carolina with my parents for my grandmother's wake. It's dark out and all I can see are the black hills towering above me as we pass through virginia on our way. I'm scared and carsick. But I'm not there. I'm here in the present where nothing feels real. And yet I'm not. I keep shifting from reality to reality. Even though my eyes can see the present, my head sees the past and they overlap in my vision.
everly Apr 2019
i closed my eyes and saw
the lights flickering
the lights have been left on for too long and now
the bill’ll be high ****** and
the room hasn’t been tended to
i inhale and see an old juice spill on the ground that
has turned to a sweet syrup for the ants.

i squirm in my seat aware that this is a panic attack.
i yell in the confines of my adolescent brain that has rock posters hung up and activists signatures
some on the floor even.
the audacity.
i yell for the desire of wanting to rip my clothes off and reach nothing.
tear at my skin and pluck each hair that i grow out till i cry.
i yell because what else to do when the ocean seems to yell over you when by the shore
just trying to get away from everything but reminds you you are stuck
stuck in the confines of your earth.
deteriorating sweet earth.

my loud heartbeat
made the sound of the crashing walls
deafened
muted and delayed.
i use those words often now.

i open my eyes back up to see your radiant smile
glowing for me like the moon
when i remember its presence
it smiles back at me
and i put my head back into the car and adjust the seatbelt and put my head down into my own lap until i get carsick.
i take it for granted
the moon
i take me for granted

let me dim..

— The End —