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Donall Dempsey Feb 2019
HALF A POUND OF INSOMNIA WITH A LARGE DOLLOP OF TIREDNESS ON TOP

Sleep lies languidly
upon the chaise longue.

I sit uncomfortably in
an old wicker chair.

We stare at each other.
Say - nothing.

Neither of us
blinks.

I have counted  exactly
two thousand and 2....3. . .

sheep.
They fill up the room

with a loud baaing.
There is no grass in the room.

But I am more awake
than ever.

Sleep and I
do not see eye to eye.

Sleep annoyed by now
goes to the window

where even the moon is
dreaming.

A  hill
long gone.

Trees snore
their breath rustling their leaves.

"Why do I always
have this trouble with you?"

Sleep snaps
without looking at me.

I try to change
the subject.

"I didn't know you
could manifest like this?"

I venture for the sake
of the argument.

"Oh no...now you've gone
and trapped me in a poem!"

In the early hours
of the coming day

even Sleep
falls asleep.

I yawn
exaggeratedly .

Hum KLF's
"It's three am eternal!"

Each of the now 2000 and 4...5
join in

with a tuneless
baaing.
C Cavierre Apr 2016
Then fear comes
with exaggeratedly elongated fangs
with gasping breathes and hungry growls in the background
Whose feverish savagery is snapping at my heels
the whole poem is broken into three separate posts, to enhance the reader's experience. they all have the same title
sunflower Feb 2014
I fell in love with the girl behind the screen. You were an ex-convict who spoke too sweetly of the way my legs looked in the exaggeratedly posed photos I would send you. In my state of false teen rebellion and defiance for society, I did the one thing you told me to never do; I fell in love with you. Thoughts of you sent me into a fourth dimension where sunrises did not signal the end of sleep but rather the beginning of a slothful day. I wanted to kiss every freckle I imagined would be on your face; imagined only because I never knew what your face held, and feared I never would. I fell in love with a faceless girl. Mirages of walking hand in hand through the streets were inevitable, until darkness came and those sweet mirages morphed to the pleasure of your whimpering body tied to the bed. Whilst I dreamt of being with you, you were enveloped with your girlfriend who spent too much time with others who were not you. I imagine I gave in to giving you everything you plead for all too easily, giving you too much. I gorged you with texts of compassion when you begged for relationships of sadism, a gorging of the type I did not wish to give you. I wanted to be the girl that caused your empty breaks in conversation when you would forget how to speak for the brevity of a moment. For weeks I incessantly checked my phone for your messages I would never receive, for you would never love me. No, never in the way I was in love with you. I fell in love with the one thing that could destroy me without ever laying eyes on me. I fell in love with a face I would never see.
Anais Vionet Apr 2023
I’ve been cutting Peter’s hair for a year. When covid lockdown occurred, I learned to cut my brother’s hair - and yes, he still has two ears. When I first met Peter, he had a great thick tangle of unkempt black and, in certain light, blue hair. It was **** as hell, in a lost puppy way.

Then, one Saturday morning last year, as summer began to settle in, he buzz cut it - out of the blue - you might say. When he showed up that morning for breakfast with Lisa and I (we were at Stillman), Lisa saw him first and turned just in time to see me, see him. She saw my squint as the sign of trouble it was.

Lisa’s yoda. “Guys,” she said simply.
How can I put this: Eeuuwww, creepy. Peter’s tall and lanky, like descriptions I’ve read of a young Abraham Lincoln, although unlike that great man, Peter’s rather handsome - with hair.

If the stubble were red, I could say he looked exactly like a matchstick, but with his black hair against his bone-white head, he looked more like an escaped convict.

When he got to our table he rubbed his hand over the ruin of his lost hair, and grinning, said, “How’d you like it?”
“Wow,” Lisa said, recusing herself noncommittedly.
I looked up from my phone, “We need to get you a HAT,” I said softly.
“Why?” he said, his grin dimming by a good 50%.

“Because,” I said, summoning all of my notable tact, “you aren’t going to hang around ME looking like Forrest Gump.” I’d just looked up hat stores and found one five blocks away, DelMonico Hatter, on Elm street. They even had the hat I was looking for in stock.
“What?” He started defensively.
“Get something to go.” I said, standing up and starting to gather up my things.
Peter, swimming like he usually does, got an egg & sausage biscuit and a cup of coffee to go.
As the three of us were walking, I asked Peter, “You like 'Breaking Bad', ya?”
“Sure,” he said, with a mouth half-full of biscuit.
“We’re getting you a heisenberg” I said, grinning. “or two.”

“No, I don’t know,” he said, slowing his walk. I could tell he was worried about the money. Peter and I had only been seeing each other casually at that point - we’d never even kissed - but I knew he lived on a small stipend, he received monthly, while completing his doctorate.

“Look,” I said, coming to a stop. We all came to a stop. “I’m flush, this is MY treat and I don’t want you to worry about it.” When he still looked hesitant, I said, exaggeratedly, as I started to walk again, “Don’t worry, you won’t owe me any ****** favors.”
“Aww, ****,” he said with a grin.
“She does this,” Lisa whispered to him, too loudly.

Eventually, we found him two Heisenberg hats for around $200. One, for summer day wear, a light beige Bailey Carver Straw Porkpie and the other, for nightwear, a Roche, DelMonico Palma Felt Pork Pie - just like Walter White’s. He looked quite the bengali menace.

Of course, his hair grew back in a few months, but he kept wearing the hats.  And now I cut his hair - to prevent any sudden, k-mart inspirations.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Recuse: to remove oneself as judge


Slang…
yoda = wise and all knowing.
swimming = a good sport
flush = money’d up, holding a bag
bengali menace = a handsome man
k-mart = cheap looking and unwanted.
Yanamari Sep 2019
I like it when you
Call out to me
Catch up with me
So casually gentle

I like it when you
Smile at me
And redirect my focus
An aura of gentle
Ambiguous clarity

I like it when you
Take your time with me
Talk to me
Even when you're
Running late

Thanks for listening to me
Even when my words
Are exaggeratedly outspoken

It's not all the time,
But in the moments that
You do
I cherish
And I appreciate
You
Thank you
The Aura series:
Crushing Love Dec 2014
ヽ(゚▽゚)乂(゚▽゚)ノ
Happy
(ღ˘⌣˘ღ)
Cute.
̿' ̿'\̵͇̿̿\з=(◕◕)=ε/̵͇̿̿/'̿'̿ ̿
Over exaggeratedly mad.

It's okay to be sad.
╚(•⌂•)╝
Surprises are sometimes scary.
\(〃^﹏^〃)/
I really hate confusion.
(╯°□°)╯︵ ( ͜。 ͡ʖ ͜。)
If only  could flip my brothers.
(=^ェ^=)
Kitties are cute.
(∩`-´ )⊃━☆゚.*・。゚
This was just some serious randomness.
Random.
Anais Vionet Dec 2020
(tales from the viral lock-down)

Brice (my brother) is cutting through what smells like a stack of cinnamon french toast.
My stomach growls at the aroma like a hunting cat.
I jump out of bed, grab my robe and rush excitedly to the kitchen.
I see the pan in the sink.
gasp “You didn’t MAKE me any!!?” I accuse, in indignant shock.
Brice, looking up, “JESUS, get on some fu-kin' clothes!”
He waves his arms like he's fighting a flock of birds.
I look down, “GOD, I AM wearing clothes, you PERV! - and a bathrobe”
"Who says THAT’S a bathrobe??” He says, sarcastically.
Me: “Kiki Montparnasse!”, I say, indignantly.
My mom enters to fill her coffee cup.
Brice: “Will you please tell YOUR DAUGHTER to get on some clothes?”
My mom inspects me and I twirl for my audience.
“That IS a little sheer”, she pronounces.
ARGH!, FINE,” I say, before stomping off to change.
I start to fume."HE CAN GO ALL OVER IN BOXER SHORTS BUT I CAN'T WEAR A BATHROBE?!!"
“And HE didn’t make EXTRA TOAST”, I yell back in pointed accusation.
“Get to work,” (on more toast) I hear her tell him, just before I slam my door.

another day…

My brother Brice is fighting with his girl-friend on the phone.
Of course, I'm only hearing 1/2 the conversation - but he sounds like a ****.
Me: "apologize," I silently, slowly, exaggeratedly mouth
Brice: "fu-kovv," he mouths back, silently
Me: "I'm your sister," I say, "I get to boss you around, besides, I KNOW what’s BEST"
A minute later - He actually apologizes!!! And they make up.
(I dance around the room like Rocky)
siblings may fight, but we know EVERYTHING about each other and stick up for each other with anyone else
almat011 Apr 2019
Sweet candy
You are my life meaning, only you are forever beautiful in my eyes, you are like the utopian harmony of the universe, being your husband is like going to heaven. When nature created you, she was idealized, poetic, exaggeratedly embellished even the smallest details of your beautiful body. Your skin is a masterpiece of painting, the voice is a masterpiece of music, the shape of a body is a masterpiece of sculpture, the eyes and character are the masterpiece of a romantic movie. Oh baby, you're just a piquant sweetheart, you too much juicy and hot, savory relish, aesthetic ****, nu erotica, pin up, you have the perfect body, brought to absolute perfection.
You are my powerful pull, the limit of my dreams, my most ****, desirable dream. I would insatiably lick, kiss and caress like ice cream all day long, my skin glows like a juicy cream, give a body massage with my kisses and thank fate for every second I spent with you. I feel for you a powerful attraction and attraction for 1000% of you I can think and dream day and night to fly. When I see you nothing but true love I do not feel, you can look at you forever, you are my heaven on earth, my whole mind is focused only on you.
Your sweet body shapes, powerful lures, my sweet sweetie. Each microparticle, atom, molecule of your body, a brilliant masterpiece of the universe, time, nature, is brilliantly beautiful, as detailed as possible, everything decorates you literally everything.
The highest form of beauty in its true form. A majestic ideal, a completed masterpiece. You have a special energy of charisma and charm. The skin is like thousands of rose petals, kisses burn the soul with the heat of lust, you are the warm light of tenderness illuminating my soul, so the rich shades of your juicy skin shimmer so picturesquely.
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
Amelia of Ames Jun 2022
At the concert of an artist we've both listened to for years
The opener soothes us so that
I finally put my head on your shoulder
You breathe an audible sigh
And lay your head on mine
At the next song, you yawn exaggeratedly
To put your hand over my shoulders
I giggle, and relax into you

The next time I see you, a Saturday morning
We agree to make muffins
You find a recipe and lay out the ingredients
I direct the baking process
Our coordination is natural
As if done for years
I end up staying til after dinner

Soon after, we lay in bed
I ask you what you would like
Lay your cards down before I do
Partners?
Partners
Of course
Why would we call it anything else?

We are very different people
But on the same page
When it comes to who we are together
Hours spent together, talking and not
It is not eroutic, it is not platonic
It is companionship
It is our partnership

The luck of an easy love

— The End —