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adis g Apr 2015
Thank you, tourists

For pausing.

For capturing
Every moment.

Your cameras draped,
Quivering below your necks

Your necks rosy
with sun.

Sunscreen scents
Swarm the air

But the air bursts
Diverse Dialects,

Dogmas,
and Dreams.

Thank you
From a resident,

A student,
A visitor,

A wanderer.

Thank you
For immobilizing
Glorious minutes

For impeding time
Just for a moment.

For acknowledging-
So that those who neglect to notice,
Once again realize their riches.
Thank you

For your quiet grins
As you regard
The world.


Thank you, travelers.
inspired by my life in granada, spain.
Maria Starchild May 2016
To the man who never loved me back
I have died over and over
On this canvas to paint you
I commit suicide for you
Every time I create an artwork
So that I could live
But still you cannot love me back

Sometimes I wish
To be emotionally and artistically barren
So I cannot therefore create
I cannot therefore write
I’ll just lay by your side
Dead
Maybe by then you’ll love me back

Your eyes tell me the words you cannot utter
The words you cannot whisper
These are the prayers I cannot answer

I know I am physically and mentally impaired
There are things that I can never give you
But I will never apologize
I will never say sorry to you
Instead,
I will offer you the things that she cannot give you,
The experiences only I can tell you
The pictures only my eyes can show you:
My time
My art
My death
I plead:
Will you now love me back?


I love you more than you love yourself.
I love you so much I forgot how to love myself.
I love you more than I loved myself.
Now, nobody loves me
Not even me
Why can’t you love me back?

Tell me honestly
Am I really hard to love?
Am I asking for too much?
How many more deaths do I have to take?
Tell me.
How can you love me back?

I have died a thousand times
Waiting for you to answer me
I have risen from the dead a thousand times
Still you are still
Still you remain silent
You cannot answer me back
But why can’t you?
Why can’t you love me back?

I am dying again
I thought I am already dead
And you are beyond death
Even if I die a thousand times again
I can never reach your death
For you are dead and blind
You are dead and deaf.
You are not lifeless
But you are dead
I am dead
But I am full of life


I think I’m alive because I love you
But loving you makes me feel dead
You’re the only one I live for
Yet you ****** me over and over again
You always rip me in half
You always break my heart.
You always ****** me
But the sun will always rise
From then I’ll be set free

You always break my heart
But not the soul inside of me
The caterpillar is born to be
A humble butterfly and free

You always break my heart
You always incinerate me
But I always rise like the phoenix
From the ashes I’m set free

You always break my heart
I am a willing martyr.
I am a *******,
You are my sadist.
I love you so much
I don’t care facing death
Again and again
Because you are the reaper of my soul
And I trust you
You take my life away with you
In exchange for the answer I am longing for
But you betray me
Still you cannot love me back

I am now hopeless
Now I am dead and lifeless.
You have lost my soul in space
Where it is impossible to find
For there are millions of souls lost in space: the stars
Crying as they twinkle
Waiting for the same answer
I’m waiting for:
When will you love me back?

Now I am emotionally and artistically barren.
I cannot create anything now
I am turning red and yellow
I am smiling
I am laughing through the pain
Happiness is immobilizing me
Writing this line kills me yet still
I write
For you
Can you now love me back?

I have died a thousand times to live.
You have taught me that
Death is rebirth
You said being dark blue is
Being beautiful
In deep sadness I can **** myself
And from the void I’ll be born again
I followed you
I became dark blue
But still
You never loved me back.

I am tired of being your toy
I am tired of being your doormat
I am tired of pleading
I am tired of being a fool
I thought I was tired of being alone
That’s why I needed your love
But now
All I want is to be alone
Because you’ll never love me back

I am tired of waiting for an answer
I am tired of waiting for your love
I am tired of dying over and over for you
I am tired of asking
Why can’t you love me back?


Now, I am waking up from the dead
Facing the reality:
I loved you,
So much
But you never loved me back.
I still love you so much
But still you cannot love me back

I have died a thousand times living for you.
I murdered myself to be someone you wanted to love
But still you made me feel like I am so hard to love.

I have died a thousand times living for you.
You murdered me to be someone who I am not
And now, I don’t know who I am anymore.

I have died a thousand times living for you.
I am not scared to die again
For I have seen death a million times
But if I will die again
It will be for my own sake
It will be for me
And not for you

I thought I would die without you
But without you,
I felt so much alive
I am better off without you
I would rather be alone forever
And die again and again alone
Than to be with you eternally

I am now tired of wanting you to love me back
I just want my lives back.
You are my death
Yet you are the elixir that revives me
You ****** me over and over again
And you bring me back to life again and again
But now why can’t you give me my life back?

I am tired of loving you now.
I am tired of dying
I am tired of living.
Forget my love for you
I just want my life back

I have died a thousand times living for you.
Now I don’t want to die loving you
Because I know you will not love me back

I have died a thousand times living for you.
Now I just want to live again.
I just want my life back.
Give me my life back.

-from the girl you never saw inside me.

(1,079 words)
Madison McEnroe May 2015
Avenging activity among our society
Based behind our bravery,
Centered in our controlled community
Dances our dimes distantly,
Eating the Economy entirely,
Freeing some family’s from financial stability
Giving the Government full guidance to “Give willingly”
Help save history and fix the hired hereby diligently
Isolating the problem Indefinitely before another civil war breaks out immobilizing us internally,
Jacking up jumping prices to live within our jungle of commonality
Killing Kids futures by leaving them in debt for keeps of knowledge to secure their vivacity
Living our Lives in stress leniently because we are your servants dwelling down here in the low depths of poverty.
Massing out our Money on your table tops feasting morbidly on fattening foods while millions suffer from malnutrion
Nobody speaking nervously now
On the open opinion’s on our governments greed
People pacing the streets for a piece to eat
Quiet our questions or riots will quake the streets
Rage ripping through our roads radiantly
So sustain us all seriously separating the needy from situations of squandering
Take hold of our Tantrums and turn them on the ones demanding this tangibility
You’re yearning for yesterday’s better life
Venom of today’s values vast out over our minds
When will they welcome the revolution?
Xenophobia exerts exteremremitys on our souls
Zero Tolerance for Zaberism and Zolism is the way we go.
I hear these things constantly in my ear about how people feel. So I wrote an ABC poem about our government and the revolution so many speak about that has yet to happen and that could. Not that I should part take or believe in this. But I do agree society is as ****** as an other country. Just with less physical abuse.
hiddenvoice Oct 2013
My voice of desperation, sweet and disguised
This culture or lack of, Therefore
Strains at every vein, immobilizing
An obscured feature, hidden away
My once beating heart bound by your forceful grasp
Beneath layers of damaged tissue
A sealed temperament begging to be uncovered
So there; discover

And I have learned to face myself, through retaliation
I bleed red but underneath my blood is blue
Like a twilight haze
Foggy and distant, departed from my soul
And only love
Tear ducts claiming me, my voice
Lost in a sea of others, it's no miracle
Waves overlapping,  I surrender
Defeated and overcome by the chill of the sound
Of my own voice
This misery restrains me
The thought hadn't  crossed my mind
Perhaps the choice was never truly mine
Miko Apr 2012
As every new piece falls into place
it's almost as if every new spectacle
makes the world spin a little slower somehow,
the buzzing and humming of
everyday life
grow faint.
The birds sing a little softer
even populations an ocean away
calm themselves
to listen.

New thoughts are crawling, picking through your
nights and chest in every intense
instant that you're silent
knowing that the only fitting conclusion
is when you
melt and burn
everything in reach,
in thought,
in sight.
To forge a new beauty in the
ashes.
Untouchable in it's eternal glory
that it strikes like lightning inside you
and pulsates like a sore exhaustion within you,
burning it's message into the minds
and throats of all who encounter it.

The moment you begin, it will
grab you by the collar, draw
you in close, demand your
attention, and brush away reality
until...
the words are all you know,
the feeling is all that dwells as an epicenter,
your actions take spark and ignite like sporadic hellfire,
consuming your once well known existence.
All because...
the pulsating force inside you
ripping you apart
is too powerful to hold inside any longer.
A parasitic longing engulfs you
the nature,
the emotions,
it clasps itself
and secures itself
to you.
Hook.
Line.
And sinker.

And as you ponder its cause,
its hectic reign,
you decide you want to recreate it,
if you could only find the words...
or even the sense to do so,
and to understand why.
It's gnawing at your conscious
and disrupting your curiosity.
It's peaked,
and there's nothing there
beside you
under you
no support or basin
to catch it when it
pours out
and overflows.
Wasted, covering the floor.
But you're not too far off it now, are you?
Maybe.
You KNOW it's hard to wait for something you know might not happen.
but
can you make it happen
with the shear thought?
Or will actions have to take place?
Something that will have to happen.
Some things that you've never attempted.
Or some that haven't even
cut across your morals.

Knowing, whenever you begin,
it's as if the world slows down a little
and listens
and waits
and waits
and the few uninspired phrases you scribble
down in a feeble attempt to latch yourself into
a safe spot in a lucid environment
they stop coming.
And you freeze.
And it blurs before your eyes,
which twitch,
suddenly unable to decipher the clever coding before you
that you don't even comprehend what
you yourself are writing
what you're thinking
what you are doing and what you are
putting into motion.
And that same rhythm that once came so easily
that once took you by the hand in a delight surprise
beating in sync with your innocent and glorious heart
MAY BE the place that catapults you
somewhere where nothing matters
or where nothings mattered in the first place.
A realization into a new universe
where it was simple, except the page in your hand
and your willingness to express
and your subconscious will to absorb.

Now?
Every letter, every phrase,
every spoken syllable even,
has a hollow ring
that used to ring so true
populations an ocean way
stop to listen
stop.
to listen.
But all they hear?
Is you
fall apart.
That pulsating force?
Is trapped behind the walls of frustration and ink
tearing at your seams and
shredding your sense of being
your sense of knowing yourself
collapsing you
immobilizing you
right to edge of it all,
and then it reconstructs you
from the inside out.

Every new letter
makes the world spin a little slower
and your diseased and revolting struggle
last a little longer
and makes you ponder:
Does this sound like thunder?
Like roars of oceans and seas of innocent cries?
Of suffering
and injustice?
That God intends this all to happen for a reason?
Thin echoes in the distance,
echoes of a truth
no longer worthy of being heard
ring true
but hidden.
Does this look like freedom?
or right words in wrong places?
Craving life from
within their blue lined boundaries
inside homes where they'll never belong
where they'll never be searched for
or discovered
or interrogated.
A secret that's not so secret
under blankets of mangled beliefs.
What we thought we knew,
is all wrong.
So what do we know?
Does this feel like an earthquake?
Do you reverberate every syllable in your essence?
A population an ocean away
stop
and wait
and listen
but what they hear from you
currently
is a million words that escape
your gaping mouth
when all that is truly coming out
is a sick silence.
I sort of wrote this for somebody, not that they know or that it matters. I write for people a lot. Bleh,
Also, my first real attempt with a free form style and it is my longest poem thus far
Green Eyed Blues Apr 2017
Postmortem, precoitus
Precarious promiscuity
Pantomiming presumptions

Enriched Enouement
Envying earthquakes
Empathetically evolving

Natural naivety
Needing negligence
Nymphomanic nodding

Instrumentally insane
Insinuating innocence
Immobilizing imagery

Sarcastically singular
Sacred succulent
Swallowing Satan
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2014
stepped on a sidewalk crack
seven year's bad luck

If it is chasms
Y'all desire...

sidewalk cracks freeze me
in bad luck repose,
firefly-in-a-jar trapped,
hole'd enough to breathe,
but no prison break escape

come to live
in my little space
these chasmic concrete cracks
my enclosure, my true cell immobile,
it is what they mean when they say,
"have you see his pen?"

boundaries man-built
serving a seven year sentence,
bad luck my only laughing friend,
my midnight to moon
fiend~companion boon

washer dryer closet n' bed
all in a three by three metered space,
my sidewalk castle
now a nyc tourist attraction

rain and shiner, the sidewalk cross
mine alone, even the pigeons
stay away, not so stupid as they look,
fair game for dietary consumption

technical setting details of no matter,
but they come by the thousands
not to see, just
snapping tapping taunting the
immobilizing invisible chasm crackled
sidewalk poet,
writing poems by governmental command,
literarily and literally,
for all to see

seven is not eleven and someday
only time will know, and advise
when cursed lifted, then,

he will never have to
write poems for the public's
insatiable need to
mock and ridicule
ever again
8:35am this day
Jaki Burman Nov 2009
DEPRESSION!
Depression is an illness brought on by a shattered past,
Basic skills, needs, & dreams fade away fast,
Immobilizing your will, confidence, thoughts & goals,
Slowly amercing you into deep holes,
Along come alcohol, poor communication & rage,
Both you & your family wishing they could turn to a new page,
Children caught up in the fight,
All needing to make things right,
Hope & tears burning dry,
And we all SCREAM why!
Life seems to fall apart,
Deep within everyone’s heart,
When & how will it end?
Can this ever mend?
Written by Jaki Burman 23/11/09
ruth Aug 2012
Numbness eats through my soul
I feel her toxins in my veins
solidifying and immobilizing me
In deep sleep I'm falling through
Apathy is oh so popular
Wishing never accomplishes
Neat death is slowly slipping
I see her countenance once again
This is it, I am dead
Wait
A slight brush on my cheek
Your sweet touch wakes me
Sabila Siddiqui Sep 2018
Crippling self doubt
plagues my existence.
Injecting itself into my blood stream;
immobilizing my muscles
numbing my tongue
and muting my voice box.

It quenches its thirst
by tearing my self image
limb from limb and
ploughing my insides
till there is nothing left.

It either bombards like
gunfire inside my head
firing flaws into questions
or drain each cell's confidence
leaving the muscles to shiver and shudder
and words hesitant to leave my tongue.

My flesh that houses doubt
is familiar with every capillary of my insecurity;
Whispering my shortcomings
and scrutinizing the details that make me, me.

It is a constant fight, invisible to the eyes.
Internal;
it's all in my head.
Beatrice Jul 2010
Last night I dreamed of you.
I dreamed you came to me,
Slid your arms around me,
And whispered your apoligies.
"So sorry I'm late. Don't know what
I was thinking."

I used to remember dreams.
Fantastical images in vibrant colors,
Crazy plots that could
Frighten or entertain.

I haven't dreamed in
Three weeks.
"She wants him.
He wants to die"
Is enough to push her to
Never dream again.
She does not want to see
What she saw last night.

Is she not drowning enough?
He makes uninvited cameo appearances
In her head, and she,
Only she,
Is full of cold, choking anguish.
Grieving, they all say.

Grieving what?
Oh, right.
"He wants to die"

This is how the story  really goes:
"She wants him
He wantED her
He leaves, lives
She withers."

Strange twist of events.
She will cling to those nights
Where sleep comes for a few hours
And she clings to the mirages of him.
Personal torture, knife turning in stomach
Windpipe suffocating, immobilizing
Absolute heartache,
But at least she can see him.
And at least he is happy.
Rishawn May 13
Uncertainty is terrifying
Indefinite is paralyzing
Isolation is immobilizing

We take these terms in stride
as we know of the greater struggle
yet the fear of fear itself is not a source of pride

Feel the stress, endure the hardship
and remember there is a family here
that will be there for kinship

What is coming is unknown
what has happened is not overblown
How we move forward will make a noise that resounds

Lets band together and rise
Ensure we mitigate a demise
Keep away and safe
but not alone
not
without good faith
Devin Ortiz Sep 2016
I wish I could go Supernova
To explode
And burn up this crippling anxiety
The chest pumping
Immobilizing pressure
Weighing me down
Luna Nov 2015
tobacco stains everything
it stains my lungs
my love
my life
my brain
it makes me feel alive
it makes me feel okay
and i've started to believe i’ve become addicted
as the shakes start to settle
and the energy begins to flood through my body
motivating me and immobilizing me
i can't stop smoking and i can't believe it's gotten this far
i believe that
this will take over my life
as much as i don't want it to
it soothes my thoughts
but not my hands
i promised myself i wouldn’t get addicted
not become a slave to the industry that ***** me in
the nicotine keeps me coming back every time
everything keeps me coming back
i literally can't handle the thought of being addicted again
addicted to the thoughts of being addicted
after i drank
after i took
after i smoked
i couldn't be without it
it makes me admits things i'm too afraid to admit to sober
it makes everything come out easier
i want someone to understand that this
makes me afraid
afraid for myself, my life
it makes me afraid that this will be something that ***** my money away
penny by penny
i thought that this would be something easy to quit after so many years of abusing it
i thought that this was something that i could handle
i thought
and i thought
and i guess that’s whats brought me here
this was a good year ago, i had already been smoking for at least two years. Sad to admit that i have still not quit.
Frank Russell Mar 2016
Abruptly introduced itself
at the midnight sanctum
in an immobilizing face to face -

The dark substratum
that is everyone's birthright,
infinitely intricate
ominous and exacting -
Taunting, "Think you can redirect me
with your petty conscious resolve?
I am in your dreams and habits,
your very brain stem,
every cell of your body.
Do you understand the power I possess?
Do you actually believe, for a heartbeat,
that you can keep a small
self-conceived candle
aflame?"



- fr
Ben Mar 2012
as i pass through this tunnel i called life
catching a small glimpse of what's outside
only to be obscured by rock walls once more

i can imagine the breath of fresh air
life delivered to my choking lungs
black and withered from the lies i told
        
                                                                          (i can change)
                                                                          (it will only get easier)
                                                                          (there is, love for me)

and my eyes, not open to the sun
see so far in front when blind to the light
everything looks the same granite and grey

deliver me from this overbearing mountain
of self afflicted doubts, weighing down
to the point of immobilizing madness

will path i walk ever lead me home?
the rusty tracks beside, promising change
winding, twisting, never-ending

when

a rumble through the ground
a tremble through my being
a light! a freight train savior!
a step to the tracks,
wait, hold.
arms open to embrace my fate
Hewasminemoon Sep 2014
My body aches.
The spaces between my bones feel like they're filled with glue.
My chest is tight.
When I breathe in, it reminds me that I need to sleep more and dream less.
I consider the kindness of the ground below me as I stand, sipping at chai tea and staring catatonically at the only light in the room.  
I consider the kindness of the walls as my eyes move to your things on the table.
I folded your shirt,
but before doing so,
held it to my face.
It smelt of your skin.
I don't want to forget you.
Promise you won't forget me?
The light spotlights these things,
so I take a picture.
This is what I need to do.
The picture is warm
and reminds me of sunrise.
I close my eyes
and feel orange and yellow.
The scratch of your unshaved face on my cheek.
On your way out the door,
you tell me that you might die today, and that you love me.
My stomach churns.
I hope you know that if these are the last words you say to me,
I won't ever be okay.
I try and slip into sleep.
But "four more days" creeps into me,
wraps around my heart and squeezes it tightly until my eyes fill with tears.
I'm sobbing now.
Clasping my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.
I can feel each day like a rope around me.
Tomorrow, around my neck.
Thursday has my arms and legs. Immobilizing me.
Friday, my lungs.
I'm weak.
Tossing and turning.
When will I see you again?
How many more seconds until then?
Twenty seven days between.
Twenty seven days left lonely.
I'm hoping twenty seven days isn't enough time for you to change your mind.
God knows twenty seven lifetimes wouldn't change mine.
Beth Ivy Mar 2014
The battle begins in the dark.
With a stabbing inhale you rip me open.
Tear me from sleep--heart pounding,
     we wrestle in a distant corner of the bed.
             Wake no one,
                                say nothing;
                                              it's not his problem.

I know every trick in your book:
the immobilizing grip, poisoned gut wrenching fear,
the way you force my eyes open, pushing back fitful dreams.
                                  
                      ­            Yes, I know your tricks, but knowing hasn't helped me yet.

I can drown you with a bottle in the night,
               but your back before the dawn, gnawing my insides.
Should I starve you of sleep,
               your joint locks force and turn the choice against me.

After so long the war has become intimate--familiar and rhythmic--
                                                      ­                            our private, frenzied dance
                             ragged breath and fevered steps memorized
                             culminate in a flawless performance.

In this state I begin to imagine that I wanted it this way.
What would my life be without so practiced, so relentless a partner?
"Won't it be dull when we rid ourselves of all these demons haunting us to keep us company." -"War on Drugs" Barenaked Ladies, Steven Page, Ed Robertson
Ryan Galloway Jun 2017
Unwind within me.
Oh pain,
I knotted you up,
Crudely looped and tore at you,
Yet your strands were too strong,
Those ropes that bit into my flesh
Bound my wrists, held my legs.
I knotted you up
Into a bundle I could hold
Look at and investigate
Gain comfort from keeping you in my sights.
Better than not knowing your devious work
Not knowing which parts of my life
You were immobilizing.
I know you now,
I can see where you begin,
That frayed end,
Yet in the midst of the knots
I can’t find your resolution.
As I try to unwind you
Work this pain through
It is like trying to feed thread
through the eye of a needle.
These knots have become a hindrance
Trying to feed you through my mouth
Onto a page,
and now holding you has gained it’s own kind of pain
like I may never be rid of you.
I pray, unwind within me
Flee from me for I have had my fill,
Yet I know you won’t
For it was I who knotted you up,
So I must sit here and ceremoniously,
Ritually, unbind you.
Clare Nov 2017
The uncertainty will **** me
Slithering towards me
Surging throughout me
Twisting my insides into a knot
Squeezing and pulsating like a python
Immobilizing me
Swallowing me whole
Fating me to a painfully slow, systematic death

I never really know when it's going to strike
Everything seems perfectly normal
Suddenly I'm grappling with the possibility of being betrayed
Of being unloved
Of being alone

Soon my worries will manifest themselves
A nasty new reality will be the punishment for my anxieties
For it is wrong to burden anyone else with them
lauren elise Apr 2017
August is the dreary, immobilizing heat at the height of summer weariness
and languid romantics.
It is alone on the trail in the woods,
arms outstretched,
head thrown back,
against the pavement with sleep in mind,
arms outstretched,
a hand dangling over the edge into the pool.
It is feet dragging through the dirt below the swing,
back and forth,
beneath the dome of stars and the hazy mahogany clouds sauntering past the burnt hue of the nearly colorless sky,
and the heat lightning and the blue and green glow that rests upon the blackened treetops that surround you on all sides
on a canoe in the middle of the lake as mosquitos nip at your skin,
but you care little because you feel just about as small in comparison to the universe as they do in comparison to you,
and you wish that you were as hungry to bite at the world beyond the horizon's trees as they are.
They ***** your skin for the blood that lies beneath it.
You only wish you had the courage to strike the earth.
hello ~ I'm obviously new here so this is my first post. This is one of my more treasured poems so I likely won't be able to stop editing it as I already have a million times. Thanks for reading.
Lily Apr 2018
I’m strapped to a table,
An old, wooden table, where
I can feel the peeling wood digging
Into my back, causing me tangible pain.
The ropes wrap around my whole body,
Constricting my chest and cutting into my arms,
Making it almost impossible to move or even breathe.
I hear a long low buzz, almost imperceptible.
After a short pause, it starts again, louder.
I can’t find its source, as the space I’m in is
Pitch black, an enveloping, smothering darkness
That almost suffocates me in its desire to conceal.
The buzz comes again, louder still, and I feel a
Pounding in my head, as the sound waves travel through
My brain, disturbing it, sending wave after wave of pain.
A sort of sadness seeps through me with each wave, and
Soon I begin to see shapes and shadows, forming a
Realistic picture in my mind’s eye.
Every bad, sad, disgusting, angry, intolerable memory
That I possess is being relieved, with each buzz,
Another memory, another sadness, another heartbreak.
Before long, the buzz hacks into my future thoughts,
Showing me the worst possible outcomes to future situations.
Death.  Destruction.  Chaos.  Evil.  Heartbreak.  Discord.
I squirm on the table, trying in vain to escape,
The ropes wrapping tighter around me, as if they know,
As if they know I’m struggling, that with every memory wave
I’m losing more and more of myself, more and more
Of my good memories as the buzz increases in magnitude.
My mind is imploding, the torment is so great, I feel like
I won’t survive another wave.  That’s when the soft
Laugh comes at me from the shadows.
A cool breeze blows across my right ear, and a
Whisper of a chuckle reaches me, immobilizing me,
Making me stay still in pure and utter terror.
A cold, calculating shiver runs down my spine, and I realize
There is no escape from the confines of my mind.
kyle Shirley Jun 2017
Anytime I try to find meaning in my life my thoughts walk back to you.
My past is a huge Shadow,
Casting over the present,
immobilizing me,
standing still.
It's like walking though fresh deep snow,
slowly moving forward yet can never forget where I came from.
To some this could be a blessing but for me it's a curse,
I'd like to start a new path.
Andrew Rueter Apr 2019
I experience immobilizing aches throughout my life
I experience headaches
That make me not want to think
I experience stomachaches
That make me not want to move
I experience heartaches
That make me not want to feel
All of these aches steer me away from living my life
And the only aspirin is living that fleeting life as I veer off course
Emily Miller Oct 2017
The days drag out,
Unbroken by sleepless nights,
And a bone-deep,
Brain-deep,
Gut-deep
Weariness.
Restless,
Uncomfortable,
But too tired
And too spent
To give to where I am and what I’m doing.
After the sun goes down,
I pace, despite the fatigue,
And let my imagination run in the dark,
To satiate that squirm beneath my skin,
Even if only briefly.
I gently place the needle on the record,
And strip down to a slip,
The sound of vinyl humming over my bare skin,
In a caress as intimate as the satin I wear,
And there it is-
Apparent,
Immobilizing,
And I know-
I have to satisfy it.
At first, just a sway,
Side to side,
Left to right,
Rocking front and back,
One foot,
Then another,
And spinning,
I’m swinging,
Rolling,
Working muscles that hadn’t moved
In what felt like years.
From my bare toes,
To my stiff neck,
To my tingling fingers,
I unravel that itch,
And dance.
Leaping
Twisting
Grinning from ear to ear,
I move like it’s the first time anyone has ever moved,
And I shake off the whole day,
The whole week,
Every worry,
Every word that weighs on me,
I dance,
Until my shoulders feel no burden,
And the ache is thrown from me,
In the shake, rattle, and roll of dance.
My feet don’t stop until the soles blister,
And my arms don’t still until the sockets are weak,
Until my fatigue is true,
And not the creeping,
Crawling
Drain on my bones,
On my soul,
On my everything.
Until the tired makes me smile with gratifying exhaustion,
And my sheets are a reprieve
And not a ritual,
And my body can rest,
Now that the itch is gone.
Megan Fischer Sep 2017
I miss you
Three little, tiny insufficient words
But three sharp daggers of pain

I love you
Three little, tiny insufficient words
But three life changing bullets of emotion

I need you
Three little, tiny insufficient words
But three immobilizing needles of pain

I want you
Three little, tiny insufficient words
But three paralyzing knives of emotion

I hate you
Three little, tiny insufficient words
But three heart wrenching shards of pain
inalienable, inimitable,
     and inviolable sacrosanct
contentiously debated enshrined Constitution
     ratified June 21, 1788

     preceding hallmark Bill of Rights
     (adopted effective December 15, 1791) rank
despite British Monarchy exerting, sans lanced
     strong arm tactics in response to "FAKE prank

asserting original fledgling NON GMO,
gluten and msg free
     thirteen American colonies
     (with a great hee ***)

severely itching for
     (and declared) autonomy
     from Britain with mojo
memorialized On July 2, 1776,

     when Second Continental Congress,
     (with more yes votes then no)
met in Philadelphia voting
     unanimously, where  this poe

whit notates historical
     declaration of independence,
yet since Information Technology Revolution
     trumps Founding Fathers (well nigh

     almost two hundred
     and fifty (CCL) year status quo
as into uncharted figurative waters
     American Democracy doth row,

especially problematic to adapt
     couched freedoms show
cased within storied
     novel innovative though

now confounding, frustrating,
     and immobilizing supposed call
ling on learned scholars
     adept doctors at law,

     resistant to brickbats
     heaved by protesters with gall
or perhaps consulting
     entertainers at Faneuil Hall,  

how in tarnation can the tenets, rubric,
     and precepts, sans seven score
     and four plus orbitz ago
before advent of tele

     communications companies
     exhibited fiercely greedily
     hungry indomitable up pall
ling monopolistic control,
     via erecting a unscalable fire wall  

authorized with an A okay by the FCC
Federal Communications Committee to glee
fully relinquish control
     (blood) letting "Big Cable", thus

     allowing, enabling, and promoting key
purrs of the Internet remain
     under jurisdiction me
ning all content and applications
     can ***** nilly nee  

i.e. be deliberately blocked as well  
     particular products or websites pre
venting unfettered access to thus re
choir ring every man, woman and child even three
yar olds to voice objection,
     and take prescient action NOW!
Like a fly without his/her buzz
even popping a guarana (caffeine) does
not shake the feeling
     like brain covered with fuzz

no matter how hard I try eyelids claps
shut nor how many hours of sleep elapse
offers nary reprieve folds
     welded tightly shut

     feel like they weigh
     much as a ton mud covered *****,
thus thought to summon
     meager energy reserves perhaps

generating poetic lines
     interrupted by taking constant naps
but no matter eyelids
     weigh heavy as a ton steel traps

narcolepsy not ruled out since
     tired body struggles as if grasping for air,
yet such fatigued state uncommon for me,
     though bothersome to grin and bear

this bout of sleepiness, where this
     white knight chess sleeps
     trouble free aye declare
quality deep rapid eye

     movement marked noticed
     since medication taken
     to treat debilitating anxiety e'er
concomitant panic attacks, where psyche

     got rent asunder send
     ding this atheist to hell
     episodes pained me
     forked flaming tongues flare

ling, immobilizing, paralyzing
     and stinging entire body,
     hence methinks primary cerebral gear
and cog glommed
     like a drain clogged with hair

nonetheless, no alarmist worry,
     nor "worst case scenarios" betray
my ordinarily mellow emotional state,
     thus any task I must delay

thoughts unstoppably captivated
     by snoozing upon
     a bed of freshly mown hay,
and then hours later

     diminishing fatigue in catchy rye
ming verse aye re: lay
relishing being awake,
     the mine true valued self I kin portray.
Ria Mehrotra Nov 2018
Once a month my body bleeds
My body aches, my body grieves
The pain makes it hard to breathe
The pain is immobilizing

But I can’t complain anymore

Because now my moms body no longer bleeds
But her heart aches, her heart grieves
Her pain makes it hard to breathe
The pain is immobilizing

I still can create a life inside of me
I am cancer free
My mom wasn’t so lucky...

But mom can I tell you please?
It doesn’t make you less womanly
You haven’t lost your identity
You still had the power to create me
You can ache and you can grieve
Even though you feel like you lost a part of yourself

You’ll never lose me
My mom got diagnosed with cancer this past October. In the process, she had her ******, ovaries, and Fallopian tubes taken out. She kicked cancers ****, but she feels like a part of her is still missing. This is for her
Elisabeth Elmore Jun 2018
Her life was smoke—suffocating any air
that fought to hold certain sight as readily
as eyes starve for immobilizing sequence.

In her frequency, she could eclipse the whole
of your sun and your moon and soon enough
there could be nothing.

Nothing except the hollow hours cast
in disintegrating lilacs, that scorched
simple skin across each tired ending.

Her life was smoke—but at times
there hummed from her, amidst the rolling haze,
slipping chords, not yet callused.

In her spreading, the occupancy of her transparency
dissipated: and behind her eyes, was the quiver
of her flame's decay.

Decay was a ritual she consumed willfully. Even as
her wick sought its end, she would still wander
into the kitchen, seeking empty kisses of *****.

Her life was smoke—spent hovering above heads
that had suffused themselves in gasoline, wondering
which decade it was, she had left them.
chloee Jul 2019
and the truth of the matter is that i am your lesson but you are not mine.

you were not my first real love or heartbreak
you are not the first person to teach me that giving yourself to someone means getting little in return
means leaving a breadcrumb trail of your shattered heart in the wake of what was
means reaching for something in a dark room with all the hope in your chest and finding nothing
you were also not my first round of mistakes
not the first time i realized i let love go too early
not the first time i said goodbye before i meant it
before i needed it
not the first time id crawl back
foot down my throat immobilizing my apologies
you were also not my first dive in head first
my first give everything whole heartedly
my first act before you think before you speak before you fall
because falling comes with breaking comes with heartache
but i was yours.
i am yours.
your firsts.

so you will miss me more than i miss you
you will see me in every person who crosses your path just like i saw him in you
you will compare my blue green eyes to her brown ones and my touch to her hands
and you will not forget my name
or the way i tasted
or the way my laughter filled your dark room
or the weekends we locked ourselves in your room for hours and never needed anything outside those four walls
and you will regret
you will regret not memorizing the stretch marks that line my inner thighs
you will regret not engraving the memory of my eyes
you will regret not capturing the feeling of my head laid across your chest
our bodies tangled together
memorizing one another
and that is okay.

you were never mature enough to give as much as i was
you were never ready to skip the mistakes and the meaningless apologies
you were not ready to love me the way i needed
and that is okay.

when the next girl comes around you will notice her nose is slightly shaped differently than mine
it doesnt feel the same under your kisses
it doesnt crinkle the way you used to love mine to do
but you will love her anyways
and this time it will be the way i loved you
the way that knows how to love
is ready to love
the way that gives and expects nothing in return but still keeps giving
you will remember to cherish her and i hope she has already learned her lessons as well

and when you realize we could have been everything you ever promised me we would be
when you wake up one morning and piece together the puzzle that was our mess
when you finally understand that this love could’ve changed the world
i will smile in your direction and wish you the best
because we all needed those lessons,
i just wish i didnt have to be yours.

— The End —