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Sarah Jul 2018
As you guzzle down your emotions,
forcibly silencing yourself,
You’re actually drowning an addiction;
Rather than your sorrows.
the liquid that easily slides down your throat,
is engulfing you in its depressively, thick brew.
Your eyes are noticeably bloodshot,
while mine are hidden behind hands and muffled tears.
Written 07/14/2018
Caela Bay Aug 2020
I am what they call aggressively in love
my feelings punch me in the gut
             and beat me till I am blue.
I am what they call depressively  in love
it doesn’t make me happy to feel this much. What you call butterflies  
                   I feel as knives.
I’m anxious and I’m angry.
and I don’t want these feelings.
Past psychological development
describes zigzagging mama's yoyo
casually, aye publicize, (asper
mein kampf) personal woe

unpleasant memories indelibly
etched, jagged, scar outlined like ticktacktoe
solitary games invariable resultant
draw between every “x” and each "o"

metaphorical of course for this poetic,
formerly non opportunistic
generic Joe Schmoe,
hoof hound cathartic airing emotionally

rocky terrain, whereby floe
tips of icebergs with poetry I tool
examining, excavating, extracting, et cetera ***
ping to discover ring visa vis,

why this ordinary fella did not want to grow
up, when on the throes of puberty lugging
"FAKE" nostalgic memories in tow
markedly heavy impossible to shrug

Atlas off (as if yoked with an albatross) also
weighted with Taj Mahal size fountainhead
gushing with emotional phlegm like no
buddies business shockingly deadly toxic

sputum nearly killed me, the only bro
their too hoo (owl right) untwisted sisters
one older, the other younger dough
ting on this then suicidal, impassive, and

ambivalent depressively sullen self burrow
wing boy within my own wormhole unresponsive
to overtures of sincere love - self castrated
particularly social maturation grew

ming this present day subdued chap
still smarting from ravages of anorexia
nervosa, particularly wrought hardy brew
of schizoid personality disorder self

deprivation excruciating frame of mind
as I mercilessly flayed and never grew
to experience ordinary relationships,
hence though married with grown daughters,

nonetheless...pay penance forever rue
man hating price hermetically
sealed wharf from humans,... thus you
cannot reach me, - now adieu!
Qualyxian Quest Sep 2020
Waiting for Blackie Ryan
Waiting for Godot

Waiting for Halloween
Waiting for first snow

All my life is waiting
For that which never arrives

Poems in the night
But which ones will survives?

Talked with my boys tonight
They make me feel alives

Depressively I sleep
Dreams are where I thrives.

— The End —