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Elizabeth Brown Oct 2018
Stop me if you've heard this before
but I feel this feeling fleeting,
running opposite me
to lands unknown
where lost dreams go to die.
Why are words so fickle? Leaving at the lightest touch,
the barest hint of anything new.
A world, undiscovered,
lies within a place I can reach only when I am most bare.
My purest form of self,
mewling and screaming,
pulls from me this insatiable insanity.
Yet with the slightest digression my sleeves roll themselves down
and it's gone again.
I am lost into reality like some suited being,
honking at the other monkeys in futile attempts to make up for lost time.
Was it worth it?
Is that loss of captivation worth an ounce of conversation?
Bring me back to that place.
I want to feel the pen warming between my fingers again.
That smooth ink feel on dead, life-giving friends.
Is this the closest I can get to holiness?
Emmett Aug 2015
You, singing drunk,
At a karaoke bar, low-key like a wannabe star

A hangover with nothing to quench your thirst,
No clothes but your shirt

Living with a person you love who's making a living off of your loving

It's not starvation but inability to feed your child
It's not being unloved but not being able to love
It's not ugliness but blindness to beauty

It's ignorance of the dark side of the moon
Light will be dark but will dark be light anytime soon?
Editing suggestions? Thank you for visiting.
w y n n e Jan 2017
41
ah,
the inability to write poetry
when you find yourself happy
Lizzy Jun 2016
My hands have betrayed me.
Once the means to write pages,
Now my hands are only dead weight.

My hands won't pick up a pen.
Or even type short,
Choppy sentences.

They dangle at my sides
And find refuge in my hair,
Leaving me bleeding.

Like my hands,
My mouth has declared itself
My enemy.

Once the passageway for words
To explain myself,
My mouth is now as useful as a broken bridge.

With nothing of value to say,
It talks  
And sings anyway.

It opens without my permission
But stays closed whenever I try
To scream meaning.

The inability to illustrate
Or translate my mind
And my soul
Is not an unfamiliar ordeal.

But it's lonely on the outside
And frustrating looking in.
It seems I'll always feel like an alien.
mariamme May 2018
you, crowned
by the heartache
of knowing love
and inability
to move further
than flowering
of feelings &
just for show.

does it pain you,
the fear of less
than you gave, to
make up for lost time
in the hours we
spent sharing playlists
and not ourselves?

knowing i've spent
all the bisous i
had saved in my
shirt pocket for
moments like this
of lust & loss
of connection.
i hate love poems
but it seems that's all i have
these last few weeks.

i love love, but
only if it's authentic,
though i've noticed
that's a rarity in my realm.
Carter Ginter Aug 2018
Dear Kailey,

Polyamory was not our downfall
I changed as a person
Much quicker than I anticipated
So I can imagine it felt
Catastrophic to you
Polyamory was not our problem
But it did highlight the ones we had
The reason I left you
Primarily was due to codependency
But more than that
It was your inability to compromise
I told you I needed space
You said you needed me
And that was the end of that conversation
When we tried to create boundaries
To help our adjustment to poly
What you gave me were rules
And when I tried to alter them slightly
You told me I was not compromising
I made my own mistakes too
Neither of us are perfect
And I'm not writing this to hurt you
This is for me alone
Because I've been blaming only myself
Since that night your parents took you home
Because you were blaming me
Or too harshly blaming yourself
It's not as black-and-white as that
This is not an attempt at
Relinquishing myself of blame
This is a bare acknowledgement
For me
That I am not bad
Even if I've done bad things
And I am not responsible
Solely
For your pain
I am sorry for my part in it
But I cannot
And will not
Let this responsibility weigh me down alone
Because I matter too
And it wasn't easy for me either
But it's OK
To love and care for someone
Without being in relationship with them
This series is extremely important to me. It has drastically helped with closure over past unhealthy relationships. They were all unhealthy I'm largely different ways and I did not write these to take away my own fault in the breakups, but I wrote this to rid myself of the unnecessary guilt I have been carrying around because of things that these exes have said to me or the ways in which they treated me. This project is about self-love. Not about hatred or wishing ill will upon others, because I wish them nothing but happiness. This is for me.
laura Sep 2018
on the state border in your wagon
thinking too much about
the future even though we’re just pretend
and this is the last time i’ll see you

illuminating my inability
to tell my own character
and trying to empathize with
your own despite us

being just pretend and our organs
are more than cotton, fabricated
hearts and both using each other
even though we’re unimportant and fake
v V v Jun 2014
There’s a place of perfect simmer
where the flame runs just so high,
never quite to boiling over,
neither still a tepid bath.
  
At least that’s what you insisted to me
in your frustration at my inability
to find a soft place to land between
pulses of ecstasy and re-heated casserole.
  
Even still you love me
like a whirlwind loves the dust,
gathering it in by picking it up,
steadying it's spin by collecting debris.
  
I thought we would make a respectable tornado,
together, instead I find myself
breaking loose from your gentleness
and destroying homes, alone.
  
If only the weather could tell us whether
we were headed for perfection or destruction.
  
If only the *** I stir could be a crystal ball.

If only I could love you
as much as I do.
A co-write with my good friend Jamie Johnson.
Carter Ginter Apr 2013
I'm done with nonsense,
Done with sweating over pointlessness;
Turning a small nothing
into a crazed something.
Done caring for the material things,
And instead truly living for the little moments;
The little details that make a moment special.
Like the rain against our backs,
As we spill hidden truths,
Echoing against wind's resistance,
Into the darkness.
And at that moment we're invincible;
Nothing can touch us,
And everything makes sense.
For once we understand each other,
While discussing our inability to understand the world around us.
But it's all okay.
Because for that moment in time,
Nothing else matters.
My best friend and I had a real heart to heart today while walking by the lake in the rain and it felt amazing just being able to talk about things with someone who could understand, and not caring about the fact that it was dark and we were soaked. With all the chaos of life around us, we were able to find a place of peace and safety. I live for these moments.
Bison Jan 2017
I always love that which
Is far away
From passing aeroplanes
To four years ago's yesterday
Call it nostalgia
Call it an inability to commit
A fear of holding love
In scarred hands and
Knowing I don't know
Enough

I always love the idea
Of love crossed by
Gleaming oceans of starlight
Because there lies safety
By default
No heartbreak in fate
Only a useless fight
As love burns
Forever into that awful
Good night

From where might you
Show love
Little light of day
The coast of Italy
Or distant nebulae
Perhaps too close
For comfort
and yet would you
Know your distance
A picnic lain lightly
Upon salt battered bluffs
Love, would you love from
Far enough
Kewayne Wadley Mar 2017
I was a shirt filed with straw and rags.
Pants that hang loose. Jeans cuffed pinned uncomfortably.
Nothing to think of; a hat filled with straw.
The inability to walk. Pinned to a board.
Hickory oak.
Chest disproportionate to a small waist.
Sleeves flung in the wind.
Left standing still; a face motionless.
Pinned to hickory oak.
A shadow left in an empty field, the boundaries of a checkerboard shirt.
The insecurity of straw hands.
Pickett fences to the feet of crows,
Still she'd visit often.
Distance cut short by dark heavy wings.
She'd caw in my silence,
Not knowing the ability to smile I stood against purpose.
She refused to run, poking fun at my hat.
The clothes that hung loosely in the wind, scurf tied tightly around my neck.
Feeling her ***** the strings of my chest.
Strands of straw filled by her need to find a home.
Was there anything there at all before that moment.
Becoming shelter to the way she pried.
Grey Mar 2016
I have no right to feel this way.
Everything is too loud, too much.
I want to cover my ears, but it gives little relief.
I tear at my hair, and the pain gives an anchor.
My patches are hidden, small secrets.
Mors ultima linea rerum,
a constant threat,
the sword above my head.
Not death itself,
but the inability to find peace.
Sleep is similar, but it is not death.
It is similar, Tarkovsky observes,
but it is not permanent.
Sleep is universal,
but so is waking.
The fool, shepherd, wise, and king
rise with the sun.
Mors sceptra ligonibus aequat.
Mors ultima linea rerum.
Austin Morrison Oct 2017
No.1 I have a fear of heights and I'm okay with that because I fall for you every day which keeps me close enough to the ground that I feel safe.

No.2 The dark. I do not like the inability to see, imagine being trapped in a space with no light, nothing to reach for but just a void of emptiness. You cannot find a place much darker than a blackened, hallowed heart. There are no signs of life, with no trace of light. Yet you still managed to find your way around it, walking aimlessly as if you knew where to go. I was afraid of the darkness within, until you lit a flame inside Of me, trying to send a signal fire to my sanity.

No.3 spiders, nothing poetic I just think they are creepy. Eight legs of hell and they have no need on my life!

No.4 I imagine being on an island stranded alone knowing no-one could find me, while I sit there huddle next to a tree with no reason to move forward. I feel a warm touch press on my shoulder. I open my eyes, everything seems different the white scattered sand is now my bed. waves which held me back from moving forward, now my blanket which seems to feel heavier than a tsunami of depression and deep thoughts. I lay there stuck being buried by the sand and drown by waves. Being held down by my past and worries of my future. two hands lifted all the weight off me, I looked up and there she was, she grabbed me by the...

No.5 my heart is beating faster and faster as I run an endless marathon. My palms get sweaty, it gets harder to breathe as if I was trapped in space with no air tank. I try to push through I will not let myself drop out of this one so early. I have a fear to love, not of love but to love. I want to find it but I'm too afraid of letting myself become vulnerable as if I'm joining a war with no gun just my heart hoping not to get shot down but be accepted with open arms. I have scars and battle wounds from past wars. But for no reason, you lent a hand to patch me up. You showed me not all wars are worth fighting Alone, so we joined hands and walked strong. I am afraid to love, I am not afraid to say I love. I am afraid to say I love anyone who isn't you.
Finished copy
Carter Ginter Nov 2018
My chest aches
As tears threaten the corners of

My eyes

They're dry
Like the wind
She really damaged me

Y'know

I don't like to admit it
I'd rather just hide

The scars

Are red from scathing acid
It's not like you can see them
She didn't hit me

Afterall

We went through a lot
That's what we said

Back then

She told them
She might love

Only me

She never told
She never showed it either
I knew I loved her

More

Or less she admitted it
It feels like a curse
The people I deeply

Love

Others, too or more
Which could be fine with him
If it weren't for

Her

Inability to carry out
Multiple relationships
Or at least to care about what

I felt

Alone and abandoned
Unloved and unworthy
To her I wasn't

Apparently

She loved me more
I don't care that she never told me
Just that

She never showed me

Lasting love or compassion
Never proved that poly works
And then poly came up again

With him

I'm sad about it
The idea makes me feel broken
I'm so sorry
I don't want poly
The structure of this piece is intended so that the single lines are utilized twice, both for the line before it and for the one after it.

Polyamory was really freeing for me at one point, but then it hurt a lot. I know poly can work, but, as of right now, I am actively choosing monogamy. I feel bad for not giving my partner the chance to experience poly with me, but I am not ready.
Carter Ginter Jul 2013
I'm sorry that I'm not sorry
That I can't love someone who's caused me so much pain.
You ask that the bad out weighs the good,
But you really have no idea.
You have no clue as to how many deep seeded problems I have,
How many issues that could have been avoided,
If you could have just picked me.
If you could have seen the life slipping out of your daughter,
The pain every day brought;
It was deep and kept burrowing,
Deeper and deeper.
Into not just my body but my soul.
Now I pay for it with anxiety
With violence
And don't forget the depression.
But it wasn't my fault right?
Not my fault that I can't break these bad habits she burned into me?
The borderline eating disorder
And the inability for any emotional stability.
So they wonder why I can't let people in.
Hell even I questioned it.
But then I realized,
That in those 5 years of hell,
Wanting to take my life at the age of 12,
I stood on my own.
And I fought my battles without help from ANYONE.
So how can I change that now;
Convince myself that things have changed,
That I'm allowed to be weak for a little bit?
I'm going to fight for this,
Until I'm my own person again.
And I will NEVER be like you,
Or her,
I'd sooner take my own life than to witness that result.
Finally let some of this out..I guess it's too hard to explain. Just a ******* up family and not any better now even though that's the way it looks. Then again it never really looked bad in the first place did it. Never left any bruises, no proof. But memories never die.
Shanna Stylee Jul 2018
Fantasies of a being in a Family,
   Collecting Clouds that dim reality.

Looking the past in the eye of tragedy,
   Better off than dead, it is so sad to see.

Never anything more; only to Abound in secrecy.
   Time & time again; failing to see it through

How do you expect me to fall in love with you?
   Will you stop yourself? will you ask for help?

Or will you just continually act a fool?

Lies are owned in the mirror
   Inability to tell yourself the truth

Will you start with something new
   Or go back to the old tried and true

Simply dying to live
   Is music the only reason to breathe?

Will you ever stop running to hide?
   Making excuses and manipulating chance

Cry out for real for once
   To fall in love with your self, first desire the painful relief

from dropping your heavy head in your tired hands
love, forgive, forget, hate my self, keep secrets, honesty is hard
Lizzy Nov 2015
It's a darkness that surrounds you.
It covers your eyes,
And swims in your ears.
To keep you from seeing light,
Or hearing laughter.

Instead you see everything
In a dull and dark way.
Colors are no longer vibrant,
And lines seem to be blurred.
There is no more beauty in a sunset,
Or majesty in the ocean.
It's just water now.

And every sound is muffled now.
You can't differentiate your favorite song
From any other anymore.
The sound of laughter is more bitter than sweet.
Every song is the same bleak humm.
And laughter just makes me wish I was deaf.

The darkness even dulls touch.
A kiss doesn't make your heart beat fast anymore.
And contact seems nauseating.
A kiss is just a reminder
That nothing good lasts.
And most other interaction makes my skin crawl.

But now the darkness is in your brain.
In here, sometimes it's not dull at all.
Sometimes the darkness
Takes the shape of a monster.
A monster that whispers terrible things
And just gets louder when you try not to listen.
Sometimes the darkness
Feels like war inside your mind.

But yes, again, the darkness is dull.
Sometimes there is no monster,
No war,
And no yelling at all.
Sometimes when the darkness gets in your mind,
It becomes a silence.
I can't make out a clear thought,
Because all there is
Is silence.
The darkness takes the shape
Of death.
The silence, the nothingness of death.
And it becomes part of you,
Making your mind nothing but silence
And nothingness.

But the worst part about the darkness
Is my inability to communicate its existence.
I can't make anyone understand
The many shapes it can take.
How it can be torturous and loud
But comfortable just the same.

It's easy to talk about the monster,
Because it's something foreign and
Something present.
But everything else,
The dullness of senses
And the silence it becomes,
Can't be expressed.
Because in these forms,
The darkness is absence of life.
It's absence of color,
Sound,
Touch,
And thought.

And it's so hard to paint a picture
Of something that isn't even there.
I can paint a picture of a monster
With ****** teeth and devilish eyes.
But I cannot paint the nothingness
The darkness so often is.

And to me, nothingness is the most dangerous.
I can fight a monster.
But I cannot fight nothing.
Nothingness will swallow you.
It will take over your senses
And thoughts,
And eventually will to live.

Life is colorful.
Life should be loud.
Life should be funny.
And sometimes painful.
But when the silence,
The nothingness arrives,
There is no color.
There is no sound.
No laughter.
Or even pain.
There is no life at all.
w y n n e Feb 2017
45
i will try to deprive myself of you, to distant myself from you

i will try not to look at you too much nor initiate a conversation  with you

i will try not to mind how you look nor to mind how you speak

i will try to resist breaking your wall; to resist trying to approach whenever i see you online or alone

i will try to look at what's bad about you - your inability to be true to yourself of what you really feel, to your coldness, your indifference, your offenses

i will try to ignore you each day in hopes that i will not hope for you

i will try to calm my heart whenever i see your messages on my phone or whenever you're near

i will try not to admire your music taste, your smarts

i will try not to think of you nor dream about you at night

i will try not to sneak a peek

i will try to protect my heart from you

i will try to hate you really hard

but please

don't go looking at me, too

with those gentle eyes of yours

it makes all of these futile if i catch you checking on me too

you're a tease boy, don't make this so ******* me
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2016
~
words given life's first breath by this comment from
SE Reimer  
"thy tiller has found a storied port"

~~

captain of a city street ferry,
upon the choppy holy waters of
scarlet fevered spotted gum stained
christened concrete streets

daylight guided by the starlight
of quartz sparklers sidewalk embedded,
resurrecting, overwhelming,
the grayness of men's mortared materialism,
these textured bright city lights,
from murk morn steam-pipe risen,
signposts of a city boys life,
navigation tools on his
steerage cruises

'tis only my poor torso
I captain,
my bus driving days retired,
single masted, obedient to the sun's paths plotted
on a personalized AAA TripTik,^
my cargo, my tiring physique,
the refined mettle product of a
sixty five year too short voyage of
deep diving mining defining,
and for surety, water divining

city walking life driving,
debtor-in-possession of a
city infection
of perpetual motion sickness

enabled inability
for standing stilled,
lane weaving,
people receiving and perceiving
as buoyed obstacle objects
to be passed by
in a higher lane
of shaken and stirred
city waterways

muscle's squeak in sonnet speak

Why speed thy errant boots
upon lanes of wandering men,
is there not time enough,
words suffice,
in history's future present
unlived long life,
to recompense
all your recorded stanzas,
mariner's tales and wrote recitations of seafaring voices?

sea nat run.
sea nat go.

dodging tween his fellow citified citizens
and the puzzled and puzzling drowning tourists,
sea nat write his unsecreted visions,
sailing from street to shining street poetry

this glorious grime,
this delicious dirt,
stuff of my blood,
genes of my children's children inheritance,
of thee I sing,
in thee I revel,
of thee I am composed

when my decomposing time scheduled arrival
lately comes on time,
bury me in its cemetery of memories,
within the soft earth of a watery grave
that the jackhammers drill bit paddles can uncover,
in rough canvas toss my worn smooth
failed frame overboard,
so I may become but one more
fable
in your fabulous liquefying
cement oceans

~~~

3:53 am
5/18/16
nyc

^
http://pearlsoftravelwisdom.boardingarea.com/2014/01/remember-triptix/
with apologies to all the great poets from  I liberally borrowed
Carter Ginter Dec 2018
I hope this is the last set of letters
Because I am so tired
Of hanging onto these things that
Happened so long ago now
And allowing other people
To have this type of control over me
I love myself now and
That really is an amazing thing
I didn't even like myself back then
I couldn't even comprehend the idea
That I could care about myself this way
And that's exactly the reason
Why all of these past occurrences
Suffocate my thoughts so much
Because I cannot fathom how
People who claimed they loved me
Could treat me the way they did
How I could let them
Use me and
Abuse me and
Manipulate me to such a degree
Where I stayed in those conditions
For much longer than I should have
The reason I haven't let go yet
Has nothing to do with my exes
It has to do with the ways in which
I allowed important people
Those who I shared love and a life with
To hurt me so deeply
It is not about the people
It is not about their names
It is not even about the individual love
It is solely about me and
The love I carry for myself now
And my own inability to comprehend
How I could hurt myself so much
By letting other people
Actively hurt me so much
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