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Cindra Carr Nov 2011
The fatigue flows through me
As if it has invaded the marrow of my bones
Leaking out into the flesh
Rendering me paralyzed in an unfocused state
I sleep to live and wish only to end the dulled mind set
It’s crushing to find that shard of thought
Urging me to get up
Do not sleep, it whispers
There is too much to do, the insidious trails of ideas speak
The words taken down seek to undo the restlessness
The blurred vision of the time slipping past in red numbers
Sleep, my body cries
Wait a minute more, my mind calls back
Sleep deprived with burning eyes
A single tear breaks the tie
I cannot go on
Sleep calls me back
Pulling me down to the place I cannot ignore anymore
Sleep, my body whispers
Sleep, my mind sighs

cc111911
killian Oct 2018
i miss the feeling
of teeth rolling
in my mouth
blood, liquid, red
tongue to metal
doesn’t mean i want
your fist in my jaw
doesn’t mean i want
to taste your blood
just means
maybe
i want to taste something other
than the same tastes
the same teeth
the same tongue
Cynthia Dec 2018
Yes, I visited my old friends one day,
Told them all about my life,
How things have been these days,
Reminiscing the treasures we once shared.

Yes, we sat in silence,
Under the glistening stars,
As I told them,
"It would be nice of you to pay a visit,

Never seem to catch a hold of you these days,
But I hope you're now happy as we once were,
As you now have each other.
But it does get a little lonely for me."

Alas, they never replied,
Perhaps it was the six feet of dirt
That blocked my sigh
As I said,

"Farewell, once again,
My friends,
Your time had run out,
And my hourglass is soon to finish,

And I'll join you,
with a smile."
கையறுநிலை (kai-yaru nilai) - A Tamil word to describe the utter helplessness of losing something and never being able to get it back. (In this case, Friends) (P.S. The literal meaning is: slipping out from one's grasp)
Hadiy Syakir Mar 2018
Maybe it's for you but not for me, but who knows?

When will the time stop and give way to the paradoxical space that will shove the soul out of its life, eventually?

Tend to think that the archetypal white collar worker is what you should be before you delve into the reality?

Jumped into the ripest chord of a void song, and you found nothing but truth and perplexity?

Threw yourself into the wilderness but you are still deprived of happiness, only peace, filled with emptiness?

Crashed the mental into bi-polarizing set of uncertainty and sanity, driving everything towards the ravine of confusion and misinterpretation?

Dropped the last sweat of joy and contentment before you discover the eventuality, pessimistic value of the whole context?  

Until the ultimate full stop appears, will you understand what is the whole story is all about?
Anne Molony Oct 2017
I’m learning the new language of love
It’s cloudy and I’ve only
broken sentences
already-fluent in the tongue of
drunk hook-ups and
meaningless touches and
compromised endeavors and
disguised intentions

I have never felt what I was promised
I want to bathe myself in it
showers
pools
seas
of infatuation
if it exists

desperate for affection
addicted to the idea
that a soul could long for me

craving something
anything

unreliable arousal
am I unfairly deprived?
OC Jul 2018
We ran out of pencils
which didn't bother us much
'till we discovered that
we ran out of words and letters
as well and

in the lack of words
there was nothing to ration
sheer terror and confusion
and those leaked out of storage
foaming, flooding, roaring
draining all other emotions and

thus the hunger settled in
oozing through the cracks
clinging to the walls
suckling like an orphaned boy
until, when nothing's left
consumed itself to null and

we were left with the absence
who's already small amounts
swelled, and inflated
filling our entire volume
entrapping the echos of memory
then, naturally,
diffused to the outside and

we were left
deprived of selves
only the void within preventing us
from bursting towards the void outside
we float
in no distinct direction
and on occasion bump
into each other's shell
a tap deprived of sound
unable to disturb
eternal peace
RBWhite Dec 2018
Stars and tears lead the sky,
In a Moonless night deprived of yellow light,
Stock White remains bright,contrasting  heavily when the Demon decides to arrive,
So soon,such a shame,
When Angels started to lead her cruel way,
And now she said and did everything she was meant to be,
Shedding blood from Earths and Skies,
As if nothing else was going to mend her own wounds,
But she sure saw the Demon crawl,
The second her smile brought back the Yellow Light.
Everything we sacrifice will form an important part of who we are. This poem is the first of my poem series BLACKXPOETRY and it tells the story of a woman on her way to hell and her subsequent rise to the hellish kingdom,Enjoy!
Josh Apr 4
You were born near the warm ocean,
grew up around there,
With your clear acrylic smile
and sun-kissed blonde hair

I, the winter cold
More north than I can remember,
We met that day you visited,
a brisk chill, that December

We drank and danced,
while the years passed over
Argued and grew apart,
our greatest fears, now sober

My memories of you, once treasured
Now, faded
as sun deprived lands complain,
Forever, jaded
ryn Jan 2015
.
   Curious minds,
      splashing under
       moonlight
       With
      outstretched kisses
     pulsating yellow,
     Over the awestruck
      magical
       rainbow,
         Feverishly tracking each
         supernova
      on sight.


   Resting the moment
    on a
     cresting knoll,
    With
   an audience of several
   time-worn
     rocks.
      Whilst the
        whistling sirens
        in the winds do call...
          Wasting away
        the ticks of
     worldly
      clocks.


        Evading with class,
       all
       heart's turbulence,
        Craters of sadness
          congeal
           in thin air,
             Glamorous amnesia
             falls
          with cadence,
         Eyes wide shut,
         susurrating
          a
           lost prayer.


             Lifeless gazes
               yield
               only
             abrasive tears.
             As erratum
              catches up
                with its
                 gaping maw.
              Hurling
            its anguish
             in
             rips and shears,
              Bleeding out
                of
               singing wounds
             so raw.

             But...
              time carries confident,
                its stock of
                   soothing balm.
                   Latent doses
                 hidden
                within
                 invisible vials.
                  Welcoming vision
                    with its
                    sunlit palms,
                   Staving the longing
                    for the
                    fear of trials.


                      Now hushed
                         remain the remorseful
                        battle trenches,
                        Deprived of their own
                          victims
                           ­ save gaping wounds,
                            Only
                        ­     faint faith
                                commanding
                ­                   corroded limp
                                   forces,
                                 Stirring
                                light away
                               from
                                all
                        ­         agony
                                    and
                   ­                doom.



                              Moonskittles
           ­                 *ryn
.
This has been an amazing experience!!! Big thanks to Moonskittles for the opportunity to share a page with her captivating style of poetry!!!
.
As soon as he could begin to walk
He was taught to never break nor bend.
To strive for the best from beginning to end. So he learned to show no feelings, he held them in. He hid them all and believed he had none it didn't matter because it still got the job done. Successful without doing one thing wrong. This was the man he was born to become. He was the definition of strong but behind closed doors-
Julian Delia Oct 2018
My head feels like a visit to the cranioscopist’s,
Like someone bored through it with a drill.
Inflamed and ill,
Like the ego of a billionaire philanthropist.
Flashbacks of “You”,
Got me off my tracks and feeling blue,
Stumbling around in pain, without a ******* clue.

My neck is aching,
My body is shaking,
My ******* soul feels like it’s breaking.
Volcanic unrest, putting my heart to the test,
Got manic anger strapped to my chest like a suicide vest.

I’m the spectre of truth, a hard hitter,
Like that last, smooth drink that fails your liver.
A lone wolf whose claws are made of words,
A man grown bitter and whose heart hurts.

My legs feel heavy and tired –
Is it now accepted to not have energy to even exist?
For that certainly isn’t how we’re naturally hard-wired.
I don’t know how to accept the illusion,
There seems to be no solution –
I look desperately, amidst the confusion.
I look for similarly empty eyes,
For those who do see the lies.
The only truth left is this;
He who murders lives, and he who loves dies.
Ye semi-regular dose of distilled emotions.
Robby May 2014
Sleep deprived I've been up for too long thinking about how we used to dance so long ago. if I grabbed you by waist Do you think these worries would fade and bring us to a time we both know. Ages ago two different paths but  if you trace this chord back to the wall you can see we were never unplugged at all.
Emily Nov 2018
I talk about you to my friends like this is something real.
I mean I can't hold it back when you're always on my mind.
They think you're the most amazing man ever.
Never would I tell them the pain you bring me at night.
Overthinking as I lay my head to rest.
I mean I am just a little girl,
why would you want to end there?
Maybe you just want to keep your options open.
I mean this might not work out in the end,
at least that's the vibe you're giving off.
I turn to poetry to let you know how I really feel.
Every word made off my sleep deprived mind,
yet you're still the number one thing on it.
I melt into the thought of being with you and I'm not scared to show that off.
Osiria Melody Feb 14
To all those troubled people,
who Deprived themselves of food 'cause they
were a size 20 instead of a 2,
who possessed Drawn comfort lines or
Engraved scalding designs all over their bodies,
who attempted to Snip their lives away from
the grand photo of life,
who fled from a place we call Home,
who Drank alcohol like water,
who Smoked nicotine like a campfire's burn,
who Did the worst of the worst imaginable,
I am here to let you know that there will
always be Hope.

To all those troubled people,
who Deprived themselves of happiness at
the Expense of someone else,
who possessed Gaits of Emaciated strength,
collapsing,
who attempted to Hurt their loved ones for
the Sake of protecting oneself,
who fled from a place that no one Knows,
this world needs your Uniqueness
Beauty, Dignity, Strength
Your Tears can water gardens of Happiness.
Pain can climb Mountains of pleasure.
Tell sadness to Hang itself by a noose,
Tell sadness to Shoot itself in the head,
Tell sadness to Indulge in poison,
Tell sadness to Jump off a building,
Tell sadness to Bleed itself.

For you cannot know what tomorrow will
bring,
do not let Sadness overcome you.
You're your own hero, a steadfast one
Make Sadness **** itself and spare Yourself.
I outstretch my creative hands to you
to all those Troubled people
never let go of what keeps you Going.



Melody
2/14/19
No one can take away your individuality since you're your best judge.
Dominique Simeus Sep 2017
Troubled, tired and did not know what to do
Confused about religion and promises of this world
Looked for answers for my dying soul 'cause I felt so blue
Like someone stepping out a sphere that had been just twirled

Loud I cried, but no words could come out
In the midst of the crowd, was nothing but a Ghost
Driven by misery, I found myself on the lonely route
Burned by the sun like someone who had made a roast

No strength left, I felt face down on the sand
Nothing but silence I heard, thought I was travelling to the other world
Then I felt as if the Living Light took me by the hand
Whispered into my ears “…It’s time to unfold”

Freedom I sensed, life became anew
Courage I gained, my mind was at ease
Peace I found, I felt so true
I deprived of it all to be led by the Breeze
Thescientist Aug 2015
Speaking of Roman Gods,
that love drunk Cupid,
Feel nothing for his lonely soul,
Slaying his victims,
condemning their hearts,
to enternity's unfortunate hole.


A mischievous plan.
Deciding one's  fate
that love drunk Cupid,
I have become to hate.

He is no saint, no angel from above,
it was Cupid who deprived me
from the one I could have loved.

So the next time you're feeling,
"Oh No!Who is Cupid's boo?"
Feel not for his lonely soul
That arrow shooting,
half naked,
love drunken fool.
My feelings about Valentine's Day and Cupid.
She makes things neat and proper
Why he wonders
From behind his ears
He heard
A small voice whisper
She does what she does
For the same reason
control freaks, control
They really feel powerless,
In fact,
They feel like they have
No control what so ever
So maybe
Just possibly
She's seeking out
The order and peace
She's been deprived of
In her artificial safe place
The same voice lurches forward
And hugs the man from behind
Taking him by surprise
The small voice weeps softly
I'm a mess get over it
Kara Jean May 2016
Passion in every position of life
A movement never deprived
Pick your existence carefully
Unique is misunderstanding the rules
Reconsider the energy you produce
Let the you of every aspect come through
nja Jan 8
One thread came loose with alcoholism at a very young age.
She recovered. She forgot and proceeded.
One thread was yanked loose by a growing tendency to self sabotage.
She clawed her way out of the spiral.
One thread pulled at others when she learnt she didn’t need alcohol to have a good time.
She felt deprived by self-restraint. So she slightly caved.
One thread burned along with her personality when she became a stoner again.
She was suffocated yet high.
One thread was singed by ****.
She fell back into her ***** habits. She found herself here, but not quite present.
She became dependant. As she flooded her body parts with superficial happiness, just a quick release, her mouth grew dry. Then the peeling skin on her stained lips began to stick together and she regressed into a still and faded silence. In the end, she was in shreds and blissfully unaware, alone with nothing but one solitary thread left to grasp at.
Based on my own personal struggle with addiction and how instant highs can lead to long lasting lows that i am still dealing through.
My divulging outcries should
match the anguished weeks we've had. I've deceived all of
you with obscured replies, and now this distrustful person
I am is hard to understand. But you see, I can't decipher myself,
for I'm a traveler of my own heartbreak. A nomad without a map, searching for this knack to surviving. Deserted on scattered land, and each fighting "I'm okay" evolves me more lost. An unsolvable destination to which discovered, I may uncover a pumping, breathing new body and fresh spirit clean of a blemished memory. Deprived and striving; I'm holding on for that revival of flared hope, to where I cope with these thoughts in a better way. How long can you
thrive on nothing?
Will I last today?
----------------------
I hold everything in, and then I break. No one gets what I'm feeling, because it usually happens a long time beforehand.
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